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Keiji Tanaka — Evangelion SP (Practice) at Rostelecom Cup 2021

[v6quewrlds]

THIS LOVE I HAVE FOR YOU, JUSTIN HERBERT.

pairing⠀⁎⠀justin herbert x high school sweetheart!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀9.4k.

summary⠀⁎⠀you've spent the last ten years of your life supporting, adoring, loving justin herbert. for ten years that was all you needed: loving justin. until a night out with colleagues strikes you with the realization that loving justin has come at the expense of choosing almost anything else.

author's note⠀⁎⠀did a ridiculous amount of reddit forum research on finance + private equity for about three sentences. loved writing this one! potential au/series <3 warnings⠀⁎⠀3rd person (she/her), angst, language maybe?, one usage of y/n.

When you're sixteen years old, you think you know everything. You're in the throes of adolescence, your whole life ahead of you, and you're certain that the person you're with now is the one you're going to be with forever. You make promises in the hallways of your high school, whisper plans that your teenage brain isn't fully capable of understanding the sheer magnitude of into the phone, and organize every waking breath around the desperation to be together.

She had been that girl. Obsessing over emoji choices, angling her selfies just right, and idly writing his name in the margins of her notebooks in swirled cursive. Justin, Justin, Justin; she painted her entire world in shades of him.

For ten years, those shades of Justin, all things Justin, had been her entire life.

College was a learning curve for them both, but they managed to make it work. Justin's football scholarship had taken him just a few miles from home, and she had followed. She chose a safer, albeit more difficult major, finance, which kept her mind occupied while Justin's star on the football field grew brighter. Weekends were spent at his games, cheering him on as he threw touchdown after touchdown, her heart swelling with pride. Weekdays were spent in the library, her nose buried in textbooks and assignments, the fizz of energy drinks and the hum of her beat-up, noisy laptop her only companions.

Reaching the second semester of their senior year offered only a week of respite before Justin was thrown in the world of NFL Scouting. Her own dreams of graduate studies and a career in private equity felt like whispers in the shadow of his burgeoning football career. The conversations grew shorter, the dates grew less frequent, and the shared glances grew colder. Yet, they held on, promising each other that once he was drafted, once he had a team, once he had a season under his belt, things would go back to normal. But "normal" remained a mirage on the horizon, a concept that grew more and more distant with each passing day.

The only point of "normal" in their lives was her commitment to being exactly what Justin needed. She'd put aside her own aspirations to support him, to be the rock he leaned on. She'd given up on the idea of going to graduate school across the country on the east coast, accepting the offer of USC's more expensive Master of Science in Finance program to be close to him, to be his source of "normal" so far from home.

Paradoxically, his star power had awarded her praise and made her invisible at the same time. Everyone knew her as "Justin Herbert's girlfriend," the one who'd been with him since high school, who'd stuck by his side through it all.

She still remembered the way she had been praised online for a week after his draft night. When his name was called, 6th overall, he rose to embrace his parents first, his brothers, then her, a gesture that had been captured by cameras and splashed across the internet. "The girlfriend who said no to a full ride for love," the headlines had read. They raved about her dress, her smile, her poise. How she never hogged the spotlight, never took the shine away from him.

Their parents had always been thrilled, beaming with joy at the thought of their star-crossed love story. Holly had a running list of gorgeous wedding venues, while her father had mentally started envisioning the father-daughter dance. But as the years went by, and the seasons changed from football to weddings, she kept wondering when it would be their turn.

"Soon", was always Justin's promise. "Soon that'll be us. Signing marriage certificates, sharing a first dance, honeymooning in Hawaii". But soon had become a taunt in her mind. The season had a way of swallowing up time, leaving her with crumbs of attention and a mountain of empty promises. Her own life had become a series of "not yet"s and "just wait"s. And she had, she had waited.

She waited so long that she no longer had to carefully construct a hopeful response when their friends and family spoke about their future together. She waited so long that the question of "when are you two tying the knot?" had become a greeting rather than a curious inquiry. She waited so long that Justin's non-reaction to her hints about marriage had turned into a hope that by just ignoring it, it would come sooner.

All of these realizations had floated near her consciousness, just out of reach with the constant buzz of Justin's schedule. But during a night out with her coworkers, it had all crystallized.

She wanted to go to Johannesburg. It was possibly her most defining characteristic aside from who her boyfriend was, a desire that had been with her since she was a child, sparked by a documentary she had watched with her mother. She'd always dreamed of seeing the wildlife, the vibrant culture, and the stark beauty of the city she'd seen in the footage. So when another third-year associate, Noel, asked why she had never gone, she blanked.

The truth was, she had never left the country. Not once. Justin had never shown an interest in traveling, always citing his discomfort with flying private or his need to unwind at home, in Oregon, after the season. So, she never got a passport, hoping her lack of documentation would keep her from even looking at potential flights. But tonight, she finally had to admit to someone else what she had been too afraid to admit to herself. "Justin's schedule keeps us pretty busy," she'd murmured, her voice barely carrying over the chatter of the bar. "We haven't had the chance."

The silence that followed her confession to Noel was deafening. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, leaving her chest tight and her eyes stinging. So the conversation moved on, but the weight of her truth remained, a leaden presence in her chest.

Lightheartedly, the conversation eventually moved to relationships - or the group's general lack thereof. Not her. When Jordan casually asked how long she had been with Justin, she felt like a spotlight was shone on her. "Ten years," she replied, her voice a mix of pride and something else. Something that didn't quite fit with the expression on her face.

The group's collective gasp was a mix of awe and sympathy. "Ten years?" Folake questioned, a hint of pity in her voice. "And you've never been with anyone else? That's… intense, girl. You're only 26."

Her cheeks warmed with a rush of embarrassment she hadn't felt since high school. She took a sip of her drink, trying to swallow the discomfort. "It's not like that," she protested, her voice small. But the words felt hollow, even to her own ears. "We're good together. I've known him forever." She lifted her drink to her lips again, adding a monotone "literally" for good measure.

Her coworkers nodded politely, but their expressions remained skeptical. They were all young and eager, exploring the world beyond their cubicles, and she suddenly felt ancient and untouched by the world beyond her relationship. The realization grew sharper with each nod, each kind but knowing smile.

Her mind raced as she headed home that night, her thoughts swirling like a tornado of doubt and regret. While she had spent her college years tied to the sidelines, her peers had traveled the world, stayed out all night, and experienced the thrill of one night stands and heartbreaks. They had grown into their own people, shaped by the people they'd loved - and grown to hate. They'd learned from their mistakes, grown stronger, and had stories to tell. But her? All she had was Justin. For ten years, Justin was enough. But now, with the starkness of her own stagnation laid bare, she was no longer sure if it was enough.

The floorboards creaked under her feet as she entered the living room, the house eerily quiet without the usual background noise of Justin's video games or his humming of some Yacht Rock hit under his breath. She inhaled deeply, smelling the lingering scent of his meal prepped dinner - something packed with protein and greens, a meal she had learned to cook because it was what he needed.

She tiptoed into their bedroom, her eyes immediately picking up on his sleeping form despite the darkness. The TV was off, remote discarded haphazardly on the bedside table. She took a moment to simply look at him, the man who had been her entire world for so long. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and she felt the tug of something deep within her, a strange cocktail of fear rising in her throat.

As if symbolic of that fear, she could feel her drinks come up, threatening to spill the truth along with their contents. She swallowed hard, gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. She tried to ease her breathing, the quiet of the night seeming to amplify every little sound.

Then the sheets rustled, and Justin's eyes blinked open. "Babe?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "When did you get back?"

"Just now," she replied, her voice wavering slightly. She stared at the floor, avoiding his gaze. Swallowing thickly, she added, "Go to sleep, J. I'll come to bed in a minute."

Justin exhaled deeply through his nose, nodding without protest and closing his eyes again. She chewed her bottom lip nervously, burying her face in her hands. How could she explain that she was breaking down because she had never truly lived? Because she had given up so much of herself for him that she didn't know who she was anymore?

She loved him. She swore she did. But as she stared at the ceiling, listening to his even breaths, she couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness. The house, once filled with the warmth of their laughter and shared dreams, now felt like a museum of memories rather than a living space. Each room was a shrine to a past she wasn't sure she wanted anymore.

"So, Saturday morning, Pat's gonna come over to help me with that entertainment center," Justin announced casually at breakfast the next day, his eyes on his phone. She stared at the cereal in her bowl, her spoon hovering above the surface.

"Okay," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't look up from his phone. "It's been sitting there for like a year, might as well get it done since I have some time."

She nodded, her mind racing. Time. That's what it boiled down to. Time for him to build his man cave, and no time for her desires to travel. The cereal in her bowl had gone soggy, the taste of the milk turning unappetizing in her mouth. "Hey," she started softly, unsure. "Can we… talk about something?"

Justin looked up, his eyes scanning her face, looking for a clue to her mood. "Yeah, sure," he said, setting his phone aside. "What's up?"

She took a deep breath, her heart racing. "Do you ever wish you had explored other options in college?" she asked, her voice quivering.

Justin blinked, once, twice, the question seemingly catching him off guard. He paused, tilting his head as he considered his response. "What do you mean, like majoring in something else?"

"No, I mean… with us," she clarified, her voice growing stronger. "Do you ever think about what it would have been like to date other people?"

Justin balked at that, as if immediately rejecting the idea. "What other options?" he asked, his tone one of genuine confusion. "I had you."

The simplicity of his response hit her like a sledgehammer. He had never doubted them, never questioned their destiny to be together. He had never felt the need to explore other relationships because he had her. But she was doubting, she was questioning, and it was tearing her apart.

"I know, but…" she said, pushing her cereal bowl away with a frustrated huff.

Justin's eyes tracked her movements, a frown furrowing his brow. "But what? Why would I need anyone else when I have you?" He reached out, placing a gentle hand on her arm. The warmth of his touch was familiar, almost comforting. Almost.

She looked at her hand, feeling the weight of the promise ring on her finger. "Because maybe we've been too comfortable," she murmured. "We've been together since we were sixteen. We've never really lived apart from each other, never experienced other relationships, other people."

"Babe," he began, his voice low. "Are you being serious right now?"

Her throat tightened as she met his gaze. "Yes," she whispered. "I just… I think we need to take some time apart."

Justin's hand retreated from her arm like it had been scalded. He sat back in his chair, the color draining from his face. "What?"

"I know this isn't what you want to hear," she started, her voice shaking, "but I think my entire identity has been wrapped up in being your girlfriend for so long that I don't know who I am without you." She watched as Justin's eyes searched hers, desperation and confusion swirling in his gaze. "I don't know if this is what I want anymore."

Justin's jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white as he clasped his hands together. "Are you breaking up with me?" the words spilled out. "Did I do something?"

She hesitated, her heart aching as she watched the shock wash over Justin's face. She had never seen him so vulnerable, so lost. "I don't…" she trailed off, averting his gaze. "I just think we need some space to figure out what we want."

His hands unclenched and he sighed, the sound heavy with disappointment. "Okay," Justin said finally, his voice barely a murmur. "I guess if that's what you think you need." He drew in a slow breath, closing his eyes and pinching at the bridge of his nose, as if trying to hold back his emotions.

Her eyes filled with tears as she watched him process her words. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's just…"

"It's fine," Justin said, his own voice tight. "We can take a break or whatever. I don't care."

But it wasn't fine. Not for either of them. The air in the room had thickened, their shared history hanging heavily around them like an invisible shroud. She felt like she was drowning in the weight of the words she had just spoken.

"Justin," she began, her voice cracking, "I'm sorry. It's just…" But she couldn't find the words to explain the maelstrom of emotions inside her. She felt guilty for her doubts, for the years of sacrifice she had made, for the future she was now unsure of.

Justin's eyes searched hers, his face a canvas of pain. "You don't have to justify it to me," he said. "I just don't know how we're gonna explain this to everyone else."

It was wedding season. A lineup of white dresses and happy couples with months-old RSVPs that now felt like a cruel joke. The thought of attempting to explain to her family and friends, to the brides and grooms who had eagerly invited them, was nauseating. So they agreed, not to lie, but to omit. They would still attend the weddings, dance, laugh, take photos, and play the part of the happy sweethearts.

The first wedding they had to face was a family friend of hers, someone she had known since childhood. The ceremony was held in a picturesque garden, the flowers in full bloom and the air filled with the sweet scent of roses and the distant chatter of guests. Justin looked dashing in his baby-blue button-up and dress pants. His skin glowed under the soft sunlight, and a pair of black sunglasses hung casually on his collar.

Her yellow bridesmaid's dress, her fourth in five years, hugged her body in a way that highlighted her figure. The fabric whispered against her skin as she walked down the aisle, her eyes focused on the altar. She felt Justin's gaze on her, the weight of his stare heavier than any bouquet. She didn't dare look at him, afraid that if she looked at him, she'd shatter the illusion or crumble on the spot.

The wedding was a blur of forced smiles and small talk. Every time her thoughts drifted to their impending breakup, she'd be yanked back to reality by a well-meaning auntie or uncle asking when it would be their turn. She would laugh politely, playing along, while the ache in her chest grew sharper with each passing minute. Justin, ever the charmer, fielded questions with his media-trained ease, but she could see the sadness lurking beneath his surface, a numbness that kept the creases from reaching his eyes when he smiled.

His familiar way of reaching out for her burned. The habitual hand splayed on the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd, the casual kiss on her forehead as he left her side to refill their drinks. It was second nature, and she hated herself for craving it even as she knew she needed to break away.

"You ready to go?" Justin's voice broke through her thoughts as the reception began to wind down, the newlyweds having made their grand exit. She nodded, clearing her throat and forcing a smile. "Yeah, let's get out of here."

They left the party hand in hand, a silent agreement to keep up appearances, but the second they were out in the open air, she let go. They walked the two blocks to their rented hotel room in complete silence. The room, much like their RSVPs, had been booked, for a couple, nearly a year in advance. A king-sized bed with crisp, white linens taunted her from the center of the room.

"I can call the front desk," Justin offered, his voice strained. "See if they have a single room available."

Her gaze remained on the bed, her heart racing at the thought of sleeping in the same room with him. She took a deep breath, willing her voice to be steady. "No, it's okay. It's just one night." She turned to him. "We've shared a bed for years. What's one more?"

Justin's eyes searched hers, his expression a mix of hope and despair. He began to say her name, breathing every syllable out as if it were heavy on his tongue, but she stopped him with a shake of her head.

"Justin," she said firmly. "I'm the one who put us in this situation. It's my fault. I don't want to cause any more trouble than I already have." She pasted on a smile that she hoped was convincing. "Let's just get through the night. I know you're exhausted."

He nodded, his throat bobbing with the effort of swallowing his emotions, all the thoughts passing through his mind dying on the tip of his tongue. She felt a heavy weight settle on her shoulders as she approached the bed. She slid under the covers, turning her back to his side of the bed, willing sleep to come and relieve her of the turmoil in her heart.

She was fast asleep by the time Justin finished his shower. The room was dark, the only light coming from the gap of the curtains allowing the city lights to leek into the room. Her rhythmic breathing filled the space, a sound that had once been comforting but now almost felt like a countdown. He slid into the bed with as much grace as he could muster, his movements calculated not to wake her. But as the mattress shifted, she rolled towards him, her head coming to rest on his chest.

Her skin was pebbled with goosebumps from the cold, her breaths shallow and quick. She was still asleep, her search for his warmth unconscious. He could feel the heat of her cheek against his bare chest, the softness of her skin against his. He wanted to turn the other way, to maintain the space they had agreed upon, but he knew her too well.

She didn't sleep well when she was cold, and the chill in the room had always been the perfect excuse for their cuddling. Realistically, he could call down to the front desk, request a blanket, and she would sleep well enough, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to give up this moment of closeness, of normalcy. So he lay there, feeling his chest rise and fall with each of her breaths, feeling her warmth spread through him like a warm blanket. For just one more night, he could pretend that she hadn't broken his heart. That she didn't want something that wasn't him.

He knew he should move her, give them both the space they needed to begin the process of breaking, but he couldn't. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her, pulled her closer, and kissed her forehead, her skin smelling faintly of the floral perfume she'd worn to the wedding. For a brief moment, everything felt as it had before their conversation—right, complete, as if their hearts were beating in sync.

The next wedding was for a college friend of theirs. It was an elegant affair at a historic mansion. High ceilings and chandeliers reflected in the polished floors, creating a dazzling display that managed to distract the other guests from the fact that she and Justin had kept to separate sides of the venue.

Justin had been avoiding her gaze all night, his heart hammering in his chest every time he caught a glimpse of her in her floor-length gown that brought out the warmth of her eyes and the radiance of her brown skin. He watched her mingle from the other side of the room, a chilled beer in his hand, his smile plastic as he talked with friends he hadn't seen in months, others in years. They all asked the same questions, the same "What's the mood in the locker room?" or "How do the new guys look?" and dreadfully, "When are you gonna be sending out your own invitations?" His answers were rehearsed, delivered with the same charm that had won over so many, but for some reason had pushed her away.

"Yo, Herbo!" A deep, jovial voice boomed across the reception hall, cutting through the chatter and the clinking of champagne flutes. Justin looked up to see one of his old college buddies, Jeremiah, striding towards him with a beer in hand. Jeremiah Wells was a towering presence, with a smile that could ease the pants off a snake. "How's the off-season treating you?"

Justin managed a smile, his eyes darting to her across the room, who was deep in conversation with two of her old college friends. "It's… yeah, it's been good, Wells."

Jeremiah slapped him on the back, bringing him in for a hug. "It's good to see you, man. And Y/N too, of course." Justin nodded, his heart twisting at the mention of her name. "But where is she?" Jeremiah scanned the room, his gaze finally landing on her. "Oh, there she is."

Justin's ears perked up at that. For all of Jeremiah's easygoing nature, he had always had a keen eye for the truth. He had a high level of intuition, a trait that made him an excellent day trader, and it was clear that he sensed something was amiss with her and Justin. "Is everything okay with you two?" he asked, his smile still in place but his eyes searching.

Justin took a sip of his beer, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. "We're fine. You know, life gets busy. Shit happens." He hoped the steadiness in his voice would be enough to throw Jeremiah off, but the way his friend's eyes searched his told him it wasn't.

"Come on, man. You can tell me," Jeremiah urged, leaning in closer. "If you guys are going through something, maybe I can help. Give you a different perspective?" He nudged Justin gently, his expression earnest.

Justin felt the pressure building behind his eyes, the strength in his posture threatening to crack. He took a deep breath, trying to keep the emotions at bay. "Jere," he began, his voice gruff. "It's not that simple."

"Try me. I swear on my life," Jeremiah said, his voice low and serious. "If you just need to vent, I got you, man. Whatever's going on, you know you can trust me."

Gray-green eyes flickered over to her. She was laughing at something one of her friends had said, and for a moment, Justin felt a pang of jealousy. He remembered making her laugh like that, the way her eyes crinkled at the sides and her mouth stretched wide, revealing that familiar row of teeth. He missed it. He missed her.

He didn't know how he was supposed to let that go.

"We're taking a break. Or breaking up? I don't—" he shook his head, cutting himself off. "I don't know what we're doing."

Jeremiah's smile faded, his eyes searched Justin's. "For real?"

Justin nodded, the motion almost imperceptible. "Yeah," he said, his voice thick with unshed tears. "For real."

Jeremiah's expression grew serious. "Shit, man, I had no idea." He took a step closer, his hand resting on Justin's shoulder. "But I'm guessing that was kind of the point? Not letting anyone know?"

Justin nodded again, his throat tight with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. "Yeah. She came home one night and said she needed to find herself and explore her options. Said she didn't know if this was really what she wanted." His voice cracked on the last word, and he took a deep, shaky breath. "We've got one more wedding to get through before we start telling anyone."

Jeremiah's gaze remained on him, filled with concern. "Justin," he said, his voice gentle. "Is that what you want? To 'explore other options'?"

Justin took a long pull from his beer, the cool liquid doing little to ease the burning in his chest. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I love her. And if that's what she needs, I'll do it."

If the way Jeremiah's lips pressed into a thin line told Justin anything, it was that his friend wasn't buying the act. "I didn't ask what you thought she needed," Jeremiah said, his eyes unwavering. "I asked if that was what you want."

Justin took a moment to consider the question. The truth was, he didn't know what he wanted anymore. All he knew was that the thought of her with someone else was like a knife twisting in his gut. "I just don't want to lose her," he said finally. "But if this is what it takes for her to be happy, then I guess I'll have to figure it out."

That wasn't it either. Jeremiah laughed, a low, knowing sound. "So I guess the answer to my question is 'no'?" A dark eyebrow quirked up. "If you don't want this to be the end, you gotta tell her, Justin. You can't just sit back and hope she reads your mind. If she's feeling lost, you've got to be the one to help her find her way back."

Justin stared into his beer, the condensation on the amber bottle pooling down the side, creating a wet ring around the bottom. "What if she doesn't want to come back to me?" he murmured, the words barely audible over the music.

Jeremiah's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Then you fight for her, man. You don't let the girl that you love just walk away without showing her what she's really giving up." His voice was firm, filled with the kind of conviction that only came from personal experience. "But you've got to be honest with her. If you keep playing this game of pretend, you're just going to end up hurt. Both of you."

Justin nodded, the words resonating deep within him. He knew Jeremiah was right, but the fear of rejection was paralyzing. What if she truly didn't see a future with him? What if he was the reason she felt so stifled? The mere thought of it was enough to make his heart ache. He took a deep breath, nodding with pursed lips. "Thanks, Jere," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'll think about it."

They stood there for a moment longer, the music and laughter of the wedding party a stark contrast to the gravity of their conversation. Then, with a final pat on the back, Jeremiah excused himself, leaving Justin alone with his thoughts.

He couldn't help but watch her across the room, the way she moved, the way she talked, the way her eyes sparkled with life. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time in years, really seeing her, and the pain of knowing he could lose her was unbearable.

He shifted his weight, leaning his back against the bar to get a good look at her. From across the room he was reminded of the first time he realized he was in love with her, before he could fully articulate all the intricate little meanings of love. It was at his Senior Night, after the final football game of his high school career. He had been surrounded by the cheers of victory, the smell of the field still in his nostrils, but it was her, with her smile and those damn beautiful eyes, that mattered most.

It took an entire PowerPoint to convince her to walk with him on the field. She was worried about taking the moment away from his parents and friends, but he insisted that she was just as much a part of his moment as anyone else. So, she'd walked with him, reluctantly, but with him nonetheless. He remembered the fro-yo date afterward, the way she'd laughed to the point of snorting when he'd accidentally spilled a spoonful of sugary ingredients all over the floor. He remembered her dragging him to the bathroom to retrieve a handful of paper towels to escape the glare of the unamused teenager behind the check-out counter. He remembered the way her eyes had shone when he'd told her that he'd follow her anywhere—even to the ends of the earth, if that's where her dreams led.

And here he was, a decade later, wondering if he had ever truly followed her anywhere at all. The realization was a slap in the face. He had been so focused on his own dreams, his own ambition, that he had failed to support hers. He had been so caught up in following his dreams that he wasn't sure if she was living out hers.

It was then that her point became clear. The weddings were a microcosm of their life together—beautiful, expected, but ultimately not hers. Just like her dreams, just like her life.

Finding a realtor had been surprisingly easy. She had a great job, an excellent credit score, and a clear idea of what she wanted. A one, or two-bedroom apartment with a decent view, a reasonable commute to work, and a park within walking distance. The real estate agent, a bubbly woman in her mid-20s named Esme, had shown her half a dozen options before she finally found the one. It was a cute, modern space with an open-plan living room and kitchen, and a balcony that looked out over the city lights. It checked every box and added a few more she hadn't realized she had.

"I think we like this one!" Esme announced in that sing-songy tone of hers. She shoulders wiggled in a little dance as she bounced over to her.

She nodded, her eyes scanning the space. It was a nice place, no doubt about it. The white walls contrasted nicely against the dark hardwood floors, giving the room a clean, spacious feel. The kitchen was on the smaller side but functional, with a sleek fridge and a gas stove that called to her inner chef. The living room held a plush couch and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that seemed to whisper promises of quiet nights and good reads.

But there was something missing. As she wandered from room to room, her excitement was tainted by the ghost of what once was. Justin would hate an apartment like this. He had always talked about a house with a big backyard and enough space so they could host barbecues and watch the sunset. She could practically hear his grumbled complaints in her ear. Not too loud that the realtor would be able to hear. No, he was always much too polite for that. He would grumble just for her with a pout that was so cute it made her want to laugh, even when she disagreed with him.

They had talked about their dream house so many times over the years. It had grown and evolved as they had, but it had always been a shared vision. Now, as she pictured herself living here alone, the vision felt like it was slowly slipping away.

"I do like it," she smiled weakly at Esme, who was watching her expectantly. "I… I think we can move forward with this one."

Esme clapped her hands together with a cheerful smile. "Perfect! We'll get the paperwork started right away. It's a popular building, so you're lucky to have snagged it." She began to gather her brochures and keys. "I've had a few clients wait just a little too long and miss out. But with your income and credit score, you should be good to go!"

She nodded, trying to keep the smile plastered on her face as she thought about the last time she had moved, the excitement of moving into her home with Justin after college. How they had toured homes in South Bay, looking for the perfect place to start their life together. Now, that perfect place with the marble counters she chose and the custom pool tiling Justin picked out was drifting farther out of her reach.

"Thank you," she said to the realtor as they exited the multi-storied, sleek apartment building, her voice a mere echo of its usual self. "I'll try to give you the green light as soon as I can."

Esme nodded understandingly. "Take your time! This is a big step. But I'm here to help." With a cheery wave, she left her side to find her car.

She stood on the sidewalk, the evening air thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and the distant sound of a laughing child playing in the nearby park. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks: this was it. This was her new life. No more sprawling suburban mansion with Justin's elastic headbands scattered on every surface possible, no more weekends spent hosting pool parties for their friends. She took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that were beginning to spill over.

With a click to her remote control, the driver's side door of her sedan opened. Her hand trembled around the handle as she slid into the driver's seat, the leather cool against her skin. The door shut with a solid thunk, and she sat there, the sun beating down on the car through the window. Her eyes stunk, her breath hitched, and the tears she had been holding back for weeks finally fell.

Her chest heaved with the weight of her sobs, the keys still clutched in her hand, the metal digging into her palms. Her tears fell hot and thick on her cheeks, mixing with her makeup and leaving a salty taste on her lips. She didn't bother to wipe them away, letting them flow freely like the emotions that were tearing her apart. The dashboard of her car was the only witness to her pain, the only place she could let herself break down without fear of judgment or pity.

It was a painful, aching cry that seemed to come from the very marrow of her bones. The kind of cry that left her feeling both raw and exhausted. The kind of cry she hadn't had since her grandmother passed away. As her tears fell, she struggled to catch her breath, her heart feeling like it was being squeezed in a tight grip.

There was no relief in her sobs, no catharsis in the release of pent-up emotions. The reality of their impending breakup was sinking in, and she felt like she was drowning. She had never felt so alone. Despite the years they had spent together, it was as if she was just beginning to understand the depth of her sacrifice. She had been a silent cheerleader, a supportive girlfriend, but in the grand scheme of her life, she had willingly taken a back seat. And now, as she faced the prospect of starting over, she wondered if she was even making the right choice.

They had one wedding left. One last day to play the happy couple before they would finally, truly, be apart. In forty-eight short hours, the last ten years of her life would be over.

Yet, she couldn't bring herself to tell anyone.

The next wedding, a breezy ceremony down by the beach, was the last hurdle before their charade ended. The sun was warm on her skin as she stood in her bridesmaid's dress, a soft blush pink that matched the setting sun. A solid, white platform supported the couple and the wedding party as they exchanged vows, the ocean waves playing a soothing melody in the background.

Justin stood on the other side, his groomsmen's tuxedo fitting him like a glove, the light playing with the strands of his dirty blonde hair. It was a miracle he wasn't shifting uncomfortably in his suit, considering the heat of the late afternoon sun. She took a deep breath, trying to focus on the words of the bride and groom. The gel inserts in her heels were doing wonders for her soles, but she felt anything but grounded. She felt like she was floating, detached from her body, watching the scene unfold like a movie she was supposed to be experiencing first hand.

The ceremony seemed to fly by in a blur, and before she knew it, the officiant was prompting the bride and groom to repeat their vows. She glanced at Justin to find his eyes already focused on her. His hands were clasped tightly together, as if attempting to hold onto something unseen, his expression was one of quiet desperation. The love in his gaze was palpable, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to crumble on the spot.

"I, Alannah, take you, Tai, to be my lawfully wedded husband," the bride's sweet voice filled the air, and she felt the tension in her chest tighten.

"To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part," the bride continued, her voice strong and clear.

Confident.

Sure.

She felt the words hit her like a wave. Tears pricked at her eyes, the very same affect reflected on Justin's face. She knew he was thinking about their own future, or lack thereof.

When the groom spoke up to echo the vows, Justin broke. He had to look away from her, his eyes stinging with a pool of tears. The weddings had been torturous, but none more so than this one. They had always talked about their future, what their wedding would be like, the vows they would write for each other. It was cruel irony that the final wedding of the season was their closest friend's, and they would have to stand there, just across from each other, and watch someone else live the fairy tale that should have been theirs. The fairy tale that once was so close that Justin had started brainstorming all the promises he'd make to her at the altar.

She watched as he tried his best to keep his composure, feeling the weight of his pain mirroring her own. The wedding was beautiful, filled with the kind of love and promise she had always hoped her own wedding would hold. Yet here they were, standing before their friends and family with the fractures of their relationship laid barely beneath the surface, ready to shatter at any moment.

She barely blinked before they were inside for the reception. The ballroom was a whirlwind of activity, with guests mingling and congratulating the newlyweds. The sound of clinking glasses and laughter filled the air, the kind of joy that made her heart feel both full and hollow at the same time. She found a seat at the bridesmaid's table and picked at her dinner, her appetite lost in the sea of emotions crashing against her.

Neither of them had looked at each other since the vow exchange, the weight of the words still heavy in the air. The reception was a blur of small talk and forced smiles. They danced with other people, their bodies moving through the motions while their hearts felt like they were stuck in quicksand. But as the night grew late and the party grew tired, the DJ announced the final slow dance.

The opening chords of the DJ's song of choice filled the reception hall, and she recognized it instantly.

If I go a million miles away

I'd write a letter, each and every day

Nothing Can Change This Love by Sam Cooke began to play. The slow, soulful melody drifting through the speakers like a ghost from their past. It was their song, the one they had heard in a movie and decided it was written for them, the one they had danced to in the kitchen when they were both miserably under the weather, the one they had talked about playing at their wedding. Her heart lurched as she felt a hand gently on her shoulder. She turned to find Justin's blue eyes filled with a silent plea.

"Dance with me?" he asked, his voice maybe the softest she'd ever heard it. His eyes searched hers, looking for something she wasn't sure she had the power to refuse.

She felt the air leave her lungs as she nodded. They took their places on the dance floor, their bodies close but not quite touching. The music swelled around them, a poignant reminder of their shared history. The dance floor was crowded with other couples, but she could only see him, feel him. His hand found its way to the small of her back, pulling her closer, and she laid her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Make me weep and you can make me cry

See me coming and you can pass me by

But honey, nothing, nothing, can ever change this love I have for you

Her body melted into Justin's embrace as they swayed to the rhythm, her hand resting on his shoulder, her cheek pressed against his chest. The warmth of his body seeped into hers, bringing a comfort she hadn't realized she missed so profoundly. His heart thudded beneath her ear, a reminder of the love they once shared, the love she was trying so hard to let go of. She could feel the dampness of his shirt where her tears had fallen, a silent confession of the pain she was in.

You're the apple of my eye

You're cherry pie

And oh, you're, you're cake and ice cream

You're sugar and spice, and everything nice

She could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest as he softly sung along to the lyrics, the words muffled and filled with a sadness she hadn't heard in his voice before. His hand slid up to the nape of her neck, his thumb brushing against her skin in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Her eyes closed and she let herself lean into him, the fabric of their wedding party attire rustling as they danced. It was as if the world around them had disappeared, leaving only the two of them, their hearts beating in a silent admission of love and loss.

You're the girl of my, my, my, my, dreams

That had always been his favorite line of the song. She knew it well, had heard him whisper it into her ear countless times, had felt it in every kiss and caress. Now, it felt like a knife twisting in her chest. She didn't know if she could do this, didn't know if she could stand here and pretend like this dance didn't mean anything when every fiber of her being was begging her to stay, to forget the ache of her heart and the doubt in her mind.

But if you wanted to leave me and roam

When you got back, I'd just say 'welcome home'

'Cause honey, nothing, nothing, nothing can ever change this love I have for you

She felt the warm, steady trickle of tears continue slip down her cheeks as she listened to the lyrics, feeling Justin's warmth and the gentle pressure of his hand guiding her through the dance. She could hear the way the lyrics caught in Justin's throat, the tremor of his voice as he sang along to the song, their song.

I know, I know, I know, I know, I know that nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing can ever change the love I have for you

The last lines of the song left her lips, finishing off where Justin's voice had completely given out. They held each other tighter, the music now just background to their silent, desperate conversation of touch and regret. Her breath was ragged, her chest heaving with the sobs she'd been holding back for nearly two months.

Justin leaned down, his cheek against hers. He didn't say anything, just held her there, the two of them moving in unison to the music that had played so many times before in happier moments. She felt his breath against her skin, the warmth of his body surrounding her, and for a moment, she pretended they were in their kitchen again, just two teenagers lost in the music and perfectly content with their love alone.

But the moment was shattered when the song ended, the applause of the guests echoing through the ballroom. They separated slowly, awkwardly, like two magnets forced apart after years of clinging together. She could see the wetness in Justin's eyes, the unshed tears that mirrored her own. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head, the words caught in her throat like shards of glass.

He nodded at that, releasing her hand to shove his own into his pockets. Then he turned on his heels and disappeared into the crowd. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She turned in the opposite direction, finding the bathroom to touch up her makeup before returning to the reception floor to enjoy the last few moments of mingling.

In the haze of her emotions, she had completely forgotten about the hotel room. Another room booked nearly a year in advance with a king-sized bed meant for two, for a couple that was no longer. As the reception wound down and the last of the guests bid their congratulations to the newlyweds, she found herself unable to move from the spot where she had been standing. The reality of the night ahead washed over her like a cold shower.

The silence in the car on the way to the hotel was oppressive, each mile feeling like a countdown to the end of an era. Her eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, avoiding the reflection of the city lights in the rearview mirror, which only served to remind her of the apartment she had just seen two days prior.

They managed to make it up to the room without a word, the weight of the evening pressing down on them like a heavy fog. Visibly, they both looked exhausted, drained from the weight of every emotion under the sun passing through them like conducted electricity. Once inside, she made a beeline for the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a soft click that echoed through the suite.

All she wanted was to get out of her dress, take a shower, and crawl into bed. But even in the solace of the bathroom, she couldn't escape the universe's inconvenient timing. The dress that was perfectly tailored to her measurements and had slipped on so easily early that day was now unfathomably difficult to remove. The metal zipper seemed to have a vendetta against her, sticking and snagging with each painful attempt to pull it down. The shake in her hands and the tears welling in her eyes didn't help the process. It was as if the dress had become a metaphor for their relationship - something that once fit so snugly now felt suffocatingly tight.

She wasn't sure how long she had been fighting with the zipper when Justin's voice called out softly, "Hey, do you need help?" His words pierced through the silence. He was close, just beyond the door as if he had heard her frustration and come running. She took a moment to compose herself before responding, "Please." The door creaked open, and he stepped in, his eyes avoiding hers in the mirror. Gently, he took over, his strong hands making quick work of the stubborn zipper. The dress slid down her body, revealing her bare back to the cool air. She stepped out of the dress, the fabric pooling at her feet.

She sniffled, failing to maintain her composure as she wrapped her arms around herself. Justin took in the sight of her, his heart clenching. He had seen her in various states of undress over the years, but this moment was different. This was not intimate, but a silent understanding that this could the last time he'd ever see her like this. Vulnerable, near naked, and so utterly beautiful.

"Hey, talk to me," Justin whispered, reaching for a white robe to hand her. The fabric was soft, the hotel's emblem embroidered neatly on the chest. She took the robe, her trembling hands proving useless in the task of tying it. Justin stepped in, his hands deftly wrapping the material around her, his touch gentle and tender.

She turned to face him, her eyes swimming in unshed tears. "I can't," she whispered back, her voice cracking.

Justin took a deep breath, his own eyes glistening with the same pain. "Can't what, baby?" He stepped closer, his hand resting on her shoulder.

"I can't talk to you," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's too hard. Seeing you, touching you, it's too much." She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay strong. "I'm not ready to let you go, but I feel like I have to."

If Justin could fall to his knees and thank whatever deity had brought him to this moment, he would. Instead, he swallowed his pride and fear, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. He could feel her body tremble against his own, and for a moment, everything was right in the world. "You don't have to," he murmured into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. "We don't have to do this. I don't want to do this."

'Want'. His conversation with Brandon echoed through his mind. He could practically hear him say, 'What do you want, Justin?' The answer had always been relatively simple. But now, it couldn't be more simple. He wanted her. The woman who had been his everything for a decade. The woman whose hand he had held through countless highs and lows, whose smile had been the brightest spot in his darkest moments.

"But we—" she started, only to be cut off by Justin who shook his head.

"No," Justin said firmly, pulling away to look at her. "We don't have to do anything we're not ready for. I know we said we'd go through with this, but I can't lose you." His eyes searched hers, looking for a glimmer of hope. "I don't want us to go on a break or break up. Not because it would be inconvenient or… or because I'm comfortable. I don't want to lose you because you're the only woman I've ever loved."

She looked up at him, the robe feeling like it was made of lead on her shoulders.

"Every time I've told you I love you, I meant it," Justin continued, his voice shaking. "I can't imagine how much it must hurt you to think that I don't mean that wholeheartedly. I know I've dropped the ball; I know I haven't been there for you like I should have been. But, baby, I want to be. I need to be."

She felt her resolve slipping. "Justin, you're going to be okay," she said, trying to convince herself as much as him. "You're a catch. You're going to find someone who'll love you for you."

He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers. "But I don't want anyone else. I want you. Only you." His hand reached out to wipe away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. The touch was electric, sending a jolt of feeling through her body that she hadn't felt in so long. "You said that you thought we didn't experience enough of the world to know that this is it for us," he said, his voice low and earnest. "Well, I'm telling you now, I don't need to. I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I will do whatever it takes to make this work. To make you happy."

She exhaled but didn't speak, allowing him a chance to finally fight for her. "I can't let you walk away from me without telling you that I've spent the last ten years of my life in awe of the woman you've become," Justin whispered, his thumb lingering on her cheek. "I want to wake up to your smile, watch you conquer the world, and be the shoulder you lean on. I've made mistakes, I know, but I want to learn from them, and I'll keep learning. For you, I'll do whatever it takes."

"But, you could make another woman so happy," she replied, her voice cracking with the weight of her words.

"I don't want to make another woman happy. All I've ever wanted is to make you happy," Justin said. It was his turn for his voice to crack with emotion. "If you want us to start over, relearn each other, explore who we are now, I'll do it." He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "I will relearn everything about you, no matter how long it takes, because my favorite part of living this life is living it with you. I don't know how I'm supposed to let you walk when you're everything I need. You're all I've dreamed about and everything I've planned for."

He reached for her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "I love you. And I'm not willing to let go." His voice was a gentle plea, the desperation in his eyes mirroring the tumult in her heart. "Give me a chance to make it up to you," he whispered, his thumb brushing away another tear. "Give us a chance. Please."

Her breath caught in her throat, the words she had so desperately needed to hear echoing in her ears. The love she had pushed aside in her quest for self-discovery rushed back to the forefront, threatening to drown her in its intensity. She searched his eyes, looking for any hint of doubt or insincerity, but all she found was raw, unencumbered love.

All she could do was nod, the dam of her emotions giving way. Justin's eyes searched hers, hopeful and desperate. "We can work on us," he murmured. "We can grow together, support each other's dreams, and build the life we've talked about for so long." He paused, his heart racing. "Just please say yes."

Her eyes filled with fresh tears as she whispered, "Yes." It was the softest, most hopeful sound she had made in weeks. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. The relief that flooded through him was palpable, radiating off of his skin, his embrace tightening around her. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent as if it was the sweetest perfume in the world.

[daylightstring]

how to become the source of what you desire.

to become the source of what you desire, you need to stop seeing your desires as something separate from you. everything you want already exists within you, and your job is to live from that state as if it’s your natural baseline. here’s how to actually do that in a real, embodied way:

1. stop waiting and start being

a lot of people wait for the relationship, the money, the dream body, the recognition, thinking then they’ll feel confident, secure, safe, or happy. but the truth is, nothing on the outside will ever create lasting change unless it reflects who you believe you are. start now. stop saying “once i have this, then i’ll be…” and start asking “how would i feel, act, walk, speak, breathe if i already had it?”

2. create a stable inner world

to be the source, your internal state has to be stronger than your external circumstances. develop emotional self-discipline. that means not reacting when things don’t look how you want. feel what you need to feel, but return to your center. ground yourself through breathwork, meditation, or journaling. remind yourself daily that you are the creator, not the victim. your power doesn’t come from controlling the outside, it comes from mastering the inside.

3. shift your self-concept

your self-concept is the root of everything. if you still see yourself as someone who is unlucky, unwanted, behind, or insecure, your life will keep reflecting that back to you. every day, affirm the version of you who already has it. “i am chosen. i am adored. i am magnetic. i am respected. i am living in my dream life.” don’t just say these things, feel them. own them. let them become your new inner identity.

4. take aligned actions, not desperate ones

being the source means you trust deeply. you’re not chasing, begging, or forcing things. instead, you’re taking inspired steps that match your vision. if you’re manifesting luxury, how would you treat yourself now? if you’re manifesting love, how would you treat your body, your time, your energy? if you’re manifesting success, would you procrastinate or would you move like someone who believes their work is gold?

5. drop the fantasy, embody the version of you who has it

manifestation isn’t about daydreaming forever. it’s about closing the gap between what you want and who you’re being. embodying means making decisions as that version of you now. how do they dress? how do they speak? how do they hold themselves? how do they spend their days? start becoming them piece by piece.

6. detach from the timeline

the version of you who is the source isn’t checking the clock or obsessing over when it will come. she knows it’s already hers. when you detach, you’re saying “i trust that it’s done and coming in the most perfect way.” you move with grace, confidence, and calm because you’re no longer in lack, you’re in alignment.

7. live in the “of course” energy

you don’t need to prove your worth to receive. it’s not about deserving more, it’s about being more. the you who is the source doesn’t hope she’ll get it, she knows. she’s not shocked by her blessings, she’s grateful but unfazed. “of course i got the role.” “of course i met him.” “of course i’m glowing.” make this your dominant energy.

you become the source the moment you realize it was never about attracting, it was always about revealing. peeling back the doubt, fear, and programming until all that’s left is you, fully aligned with everything you’ve ever wanted. not because you chased it, but because you finally let yourself be it.

[leaderwonim]

𓇻 I’M A FEMINIST, OBVIOUSLY, BUT I WOULDN’T REALLY MIND HIM SAVING ME.

▸ PAIRING.. class president!yang jungwon x outcast!fem!reader

▸ SYNP. jang y/n hated yang jungwon. perfect, loved by everybody, class president yang jungwon. people only liked him because he was a man and he was charismatic. however, when she’s being picked on by the girls at school, yang jungwon comes to her rescue, and weirdly, she didn’t mind it?

▸ GENRE. enemies to lovers (it’s one sided though, yn just hates jw😭) angst, mentions of bullying, mentions of sexism, fluff

author’s note: this is based off of olivia rodrigo’s unreleased song! This was honestly so much fun to write and it took me about 3 days cause I fell violently ILL like the day after I started writing😭 As usual, REBLOGS and COMMENTS are so greatly appreciated <33

Jang Y/N was what people called an outcast. Although she was pretty and had the grades, she heavily disliked half of her class, which in turn, didn’t exactly make her very popular.

“I hate him.” She says as she shoves a spoonful of rice into her mouth. Her only friend was her sister, Wonyoung, who told her that she shouldn’t be so negative all the time.

“Who, Jungwon?” Wonyoung asks, frowning. “Yah Y/N, you can’t hate him forever. He’s nothing but nice to you.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N mumbles angrily, putting away her lunch. “Wonyo, people only like him because he’s a man who can say a few charming words. He smiles and at least half of our class falls onto their knees or something.”

Wonyoung chokes at her sister’s comparison, and can’t help but let out a little laugh. “I’m just saying Y/nie, you can’t just despise him because he seems perfect to the naked eye. In fact, I say become friends with him. It’ll be good for you.”

Y/N shuts down the idea right away, much to Wonyoung’s dismay.

“I am just saying,” Wonyoung stands up, finished with her lunch. “I mean, don’t you find it sad? That you eat lunch everyday with your sister instead of eating with friends or a boyfriend?”

“No,” Y/N says, frowning. “I like eating lunch with you Wonyo.”

“Hm, I guess.”

The Jang sisters lock arms, strolling to their next class. They miss the longing glance that Yang Jungwon sends towards Y/N’s direction, already too far gone into the Decelis Academy hallway.

‏‏‎ ‎

Unfortunately for Y/N, she had her leadership class with Jungwon, where they would discuss things like student politics and how to better the school so that Decelis could stay at its rightful place of number one on private academy rankings.

It was stupid, Y/N thought, Decelis shouldn’t even be close to number one, this school was filled with a bunch of spoilt children who were obsessed with the idea of money and power.

“Is there a problem, Miss. Jang?” The teacher asks, noticing the little scoffs she was adding each time Jungwon spoke about an initiative he wanted to add.

“No,” Y/N shrugs. “I just think Yang Jungwon’s new initiative is just a waste of time. It's not going to solve anything.”

Jungwon smirks, something that Y/N so desperately wants to wipe the floor with. “Y/N, always the critic of my ideas. Very well, let’s hear your brilliant solution.”

She rolls her eyes. Of course Yang Jungwon wanted to pretend to remain civil, if he had blown up on her, it would’ve tarnish his reputation, and Yang Jungwon would be nothing without his reputation, right?

“Instead of your one-size-fits-all approach method, we need personalized mentorship programs. Each student faces unique challenges, and your initiative doesn't address that.”

Jungwon smiles. “Well I suppose you’re right. But perhaps if you actually joined the initiative, you'd understand its effectiveness.”

Y/N grits her teeth, not enjoying how much Yang Jungwon was enjoying this. “Oh, right, because following the herd blindly is the key to success? Unlike half of Decelis’ population, I prefer independent thinking.”

The boy leans closer in, face almost touching the girl. “Sometimes collaboration is the key to progress, Y/N. Try it sometime.”

The two students make eye contact until Y/N breaks, finally pulling her eyes away.

“As usual, Yang Jungwon always has to be right.” She mumbles under her breath. “God, please save me from being in this class any longer,”

‏‏‎ ‎

Y/N throws her backpack on the floor as soon as she steps into her house, not caring about the expensive computer her grandmother had bought her last Christmas that was stuffed inside. Her parents were in the kitchen, discussing something in hushed whispers, almost as if it was top secret.

Always being the curious child, she leans onto the wall that separated the living room and kitchen, trying to make out what the topic was about.

“I’m just worried honey,” she can hear her mom say as her dad rubs her back comfortingly. “Y/N doesn’t have a lot of friends at that school, Wonyoung told me about it. You know she only hangs out with her sister and that’s it?”

“I mean, is it really that bad that she only hangs out with Wonyoung? She’s always been quiet, I think we’ve just got to respect that. She’s an excellent student anyway, there’s no harm in having little friends.”

Although her parents truly just wanted the best for her, Y/N felt like a complete loser by how they were going about it.

She quickly rushed to her room, biting her lip in annoyance at how everybody seemed to have an opinion about her life. She was happy with how it was going, and she didn’t care that her only friend was her sister, Wonyoung was a sweetheart and lived with her, it was a built in best friend for life.

“Just you wait,” Y/N huffs, sharpening her pencil. “I’m gonna go to university, leave this place, and I won’t have to hear about any of these kids ever again.”

‏‏‎

Y/N woke up the next day with a red eye, probably from crying last night despite telling herself she didn’t care.

She cared, a lot.

Romanticizing being alone was fun until she realized that she was truly all alone, with no friends to lean on.

“Is that Jang Y/N?”

Park Jiwon. The devil herself. She was evil as she was pretty, and she had no problem making Y/N’s life a living hell.

“Where’s Wonyoung? Did your own sister finally get tired of you?” Her little group of minions laugh as if it was the funniest thing ever, and Y/N tries and stops herself from giving them all a swing to the face.

“No, but I’m sure you’re used to that feeling, right Jiwon?”

“Oh you little b—”

“Jiwon, you can’t hit her! You’ll get suspended and it’ll go on your permanent record.” Her friend says, which makes the girl straighten up right away.

“You’re lucky Jang,” the girl snarls. “But yah, what were you thinking? Talking back to Jungwon? He’s so smart and handsome, dedicating his time to make initiatives for the school. You should be more grateful.”

She and her minions get so close that they practically push Y/N back onto the locker, suffocating her with their glares.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” The voice of Jungwon doesn’t go unnoticed by a single girl, who, all but Y/N, straighten up their hair when they realize he’s behind them.

“We’re just talking, right Y/N?” Jiwon says, pinching onto the girl tightly.

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.” Jungwon rolls his eyes. “Park Jiwon, don’t make me give you detention for picking on other students. It doesn’t make you attractive.”

The girl gasps, immediately letting Y/N go as her face heats up in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t—”

“Just go.” With one point of a finger, Yang Jungwon got Park Jiwon and her minions out of the hallway, leaving Y/N and him alone.

“You okay?” He asks her, eyes concerned.

“Thank you,” she breathes out. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Why didn’t I?” He raises his eyebrows. “You were getting picked on.”

“Well, I’m not the nicest to you.” The girl says, suddenly embarrassed. “At all, actually. So thank you Jungwon, really.”

“Ah,” the boy smiles. “It’s nothing. I don’t hate you if that’s what you think, I think you have a brilliant mind just like me.”

And for the first time since she’s stepped into the school, Jang Y/N finds herself liking Yang Jungwon, and not just for his looks.

‏‏‎

“Y/N!” The loud voice of Yang Jungwon doesn’t go by Wonyoung, who gives her sister a smirk as she slightly pushes back her shoulder.

“Wonder why he’s coming,” she teases, which makes Y/N scrunch up her nose in annoyance.

“Would you like to come with me to this new bread place?” He asks, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “Sorry—I ran all the way from the cabinet office to here.”

“It’s alright,” Y/N giggles, which makes Wonyoung’s eyes pop out of their sockets because she swears she never heard that sound coming from her sister’s mouth before. “I’d love to Jungwon.”

“Great! I’ll uh.. I’ll see you later!”

Wonyoung turns to face Y/N as soon as Jungwon leaves, giving her the biggest grin ever. “What was that?!”

“Let’s just say, I don’t hate Yang Jungwon anymore.” Y/N smiles, laughing as she watches Wonyoung’s jaw practically drop to the ground.

‏‏‎

“It’s cold, isn’t it?” Jungwon says as he and Y/N walk to the new bread place.

“Yes,” Y/N puffs out, “I should’ve brought a jacket.”

Before she knew it, Jungwon already takes off his jacket and wraps it around the girl’s shoulder.

“Jungwon,” she whines, “then you’ll be cold!”

“It’s alright really!” He laughs, giving her a big smile. “I’m practically invincible to cold. Was just asking because you seemed to be freezing.”

“You’re sweet,” she says, looking down at her feet. “I feel really guilty for trying to one up up all the time or prove you wrong. I just hate it, you know?”

“Hate what?”

“You might not realize it but a lot of people don’t want to hear what I say because I’m a woman, and that’s it. Just because I’m a woman. Like sometimes, I have ideas just as brilliant and changing as yours, but everybody says I’m complaining and over analyzing. When you say it, with your handsome face and clear voice, everybody’s suddenly entranced, and they’re so interested in school politics.”

“So you think I’m handsome?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, pushing back Jungwon slightly as he laughs.

“I’m kidding, Y/N. I know what you mean now. I’m sorry that I can’t change how people view and perceive things, but I want you to know that I listen to your ideas, that I care. You might not realize this either but whenever you’re talking, I always listen. Like your initiative about bringing better programs into the school, I listened through the whole thing because I just—I’m inlove with the way you articulate things and the way you speak. If I was half as good at speaking my mind like you were, I’d be unstoppable. You’re a great person, Y/N, and I’m so glad I’m able to see that.”

The way Yang Jungwon speaks about her makes Y/N want to cry and smother him in a hug, which she does a second later by bringing him into a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you Jungwon.” She says, face in his neck. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He feels like he’s out of breath by how close the two of them were, his heartbeat racing by each second that passed. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N.”

‏‏‎

“Hey!” Y/N is practically used to seeing Yang Jungwon come up to her everyday now, the two even spending lunch together every two days.

“What’s up Yang?” She says, noticing a packet of papers in his hand.

“You know your feedback on my initiative? Your personalized mentorship program idea! The headmaster really liked it and he’s implementing it starting next semester with your name as the credit on it!”

Y/N’s eyes widen in joy, shrieking as her hands unconsciously come in contact with Jungwon’s, the two holding both of each other’s hands tightly as they jumped in happiness.

“You’re amazing Yang Jungwon!” She says giddily, “you really are.”

The two of them stop to stare at one another for a brief second before Jungwon finds himself leaning in, closing the gap between their lips.

When they pull away, the smiles on their faces never fades, Jungwon’s dimple ever so prominent.

“I love you,” Y/N breathes out. “My wonderful class president.”

And although Y/N is a feminist, obviously, she wouldn’t mind a man like Yang Jungwon saving her, for he taught her what love was like, and that she should never ever settle for less.

[hyperfixiation-station]

Hi!!

I am totally obsessed with your fics!!! Your writing 🤌💕

I just wanted to request a fic where the reader is new to the task force but she's experienced and tough. Vibez similar to Ghost to elaborate she's more scary than Ghost cuz of her past maybe she was experimented on or trained brutally....

Reader is working hard to prove herself even if everyone knows she's the most lethal person. So one time she gets injured badly while protecting someone from the 141( probably Ghost 👉👈) and she wakes up has an emotional moment Ghost comes know about her Trauma . More like hurt/comfort....

Happy Writing 💝

Guilt-Tripped

CW: Mentions/references of kidnapping, torture, canon typical violenece Part 2, Part 3 Hiii Anon!! First off, thank you! Secondly, I am so, so, so sorry for how long this took😭 I did make this a two parter, the first part is kinda like backstoryish and the second part will be the actual story. I was gonna wait until I finished both to post but you have been waiting for way to long so I'll give you the first part now instead of waiting, again I am so sorry! I hope you like it :)) Summary: F!Reader was a part of a special program(LMK if you can guess what it is) and once she was released she joined the military.

WC: 1467 As always, I didn't proof read so lmk if there are any mistakes :3

Life had not been kind to you. Ripped from your family at a very young age, you had never known the type of love and safety a nurturing home could provide. Instead, you grew up in the confines of a Russian base, with cruel instructors and a dwindling group of girls as your only companions.

From the moment you could walk, you had been told you were a weapon. A lethal force to be honed and trained, nothing more than a tool for others to use to further their games. Brainwashed, tortured, and trained into submission, a perfect puppet. Both your brain and body were sculpted into absolute perfection, a rigorous process most people did not survive. By day, they trained to be a lethal force, an unstoppable, unnoticeable, killing machine. At night, you were handcuffed to your bed, listening to the screams of students who did not make the cut.(to this day you sleep handcuffed)

You watched, at first in horror, then with a sense of detachment, as your friendsrivals bit the dust, unable to keep up with what the program demanded of them. It got better as you got older, less girls died from their tasks. But in some ways it got worse. It was a competition now, a fight to see who would remain victorious, to see who would come out on top. It was not a place for friendship and comradery, and you learned that quickly.

You stopped trying to make friends with the other students when you were forced to shoot your best friend in the head after giving her some of your dinner when she was being punished. You were 8. And you stopped trying to even just be friendly with the other girls at 10 years old, when the instructor broke every bone in your hands after your bunkmate framed you for something you didn't do. To this day your hands are not the same, always hurting and forever scarred.

Your world was kill or be killed, and you'd be dammed if you didn't come out on top.

And come out on top you did. You graduated top of your class, a position you had fought and killed for, won through bloodshed and pain. If you had a conscience, it would have been screaming at you for the things you had done to get to the top(You laid awake every night consumed by guilt and grief)

The program was disbanded(re: destroyed) when you hit 18, just two weeks after your 'graduation'. You were given two options: Join the American military, or face a life sentence in prison. 

You had a lifetime of sins to atone for, and knew there was only one way to even begin to ease your guilt. Two days later your background was sealed up and you were shipped off to boot camp. 

And you excelled. This was nothing to you. What was a six mile run when you used to run until you passed out, then wake up and keep going? What was surviving on four hours of sleep when sleep deprivation had been the norm your whole life? What was any of this compared to what you had been forced to do everyday since you were five? 

You scared your instructors. And the other recruits. And everyone else you came into contact with. And you were fine with that. You didn't like when people got close to you anyhow.

Love got you nowhere in the world. It was a lesson you learned hard and fast. You did not care for others, they did not care for you. And you liked it that way. Until you met the 141.

A woman named General Laswell came to you one day with a job offer. Well, not a job offer exactly, but more of a…transfer of positions. A small, (mostly)four-man team that she oversaw.

You had gotten disciplined for beating the ever-loving shit out of a recruit the week before, and Laswell had watched it all unfold. She went back to her office, read your full file, and decided you would make a good fit for John's team.

You took a look at your bunk, at the trunk that held zero worldly possessions, realized there is nothing for you here, and said yes. 

Price had not wanted a new recruit, and told Laswell as much. She simply said he had a penchant for picking up strays and left your file on his desk. It took him a week to actually get curious enough to read it. A paper copy, the only one in existence that had your full, undisclosed background. He pretended he didn’t see her smug grin when he hit accept on your transfer application. 

You had been trained since youth to fight and to kill, yes, but your true purpose was espionage. You were trained to study those around you, to lie, to mold yourself to the expectations of those around you. You excelled at fitting into your surroundings, at assimilating perfectly with your peers. It was all you were good for, in your opinion. So you asked Laswell for files on your new teammates. And she gave them to you. They were full of gaping holes and redacted information, but there was enough there for you to profile them. 

Soap would be the most receptive to you. He most likely would also be the one to not give up in trying to get you to be open with them. Gaz would be receptive as well, but you know that your sealed background would put him on edge, Ghost, well…Ghost was a lot like you from what you could piece together. Yet another person who learned that the world was cruel and unforgiving, who had learned the lesson that love does nothing but hurt. And because he was like you, you knew he would trust you the least.

You felt a small pang in your chest when looking at this masked photo that you hadn’t felt in years. Not quite sadness, but…pity? No. It was different, it was sympathy. It weirded you out. 

It was hard at first, joining the 141. You had court-mandated therapy you had had to attend, and you had slowly come to realize that some trust was good, necessary even, for life. You knew you wouldn’t be able to open yourself up to them, that you would never be able to feel the sense of brotherhood you had seen amongst other soldiers, but you wanted to try. 

It was harder than you thought it would be. Hard joining men who already had comradery, who had a bond that had been forged with blood, sweat, and tears. men who weren't sure how to fit another person, much less a female, into their group. 

As you suspected, Soap was the most receptive. He was fun, you thought. His Scottish accent and affinity for filling the silence made him a very pleasant conversationalist. You didn’t have to do any of the talking.

Gaz was wary of you, but did a good job of not showing it. As you suspected, he stopped inviting you out after you said ‘no thanks’ for the third time. 

Ghost didn’t like you. You could see it in the slight tensing of his muscles when you walked in the room, the way his eyes pinched when you spoke. 

It was a rough, rocky start, full of distrust and misunderstandings. Everything about you set his senses on high alert. They way you could sneak up on him completely silent, the way you could hold your own when you sparred with him, even the way you moved had his hair standing on end. It wasn’t until a mission that would have ended with Soap's death if you hadn’t risked your life to shove him out of the way that Ghost began to trust you. 

And then he began to notice something else about you. And the more he noticed, the more concerned he grew. He noticed the way you threw yourself into battle, what little regard you held for your own life. He noticed how you never instigated conversation, never gave away the slightest bit of information that could be used against you. Noticed that you always wore gloves. In fact, he's never once seen your hands.

His constant observations of you had an unintended side effect. The longer he watched you, the more he realized you were a lot like him, the more he was drawn to you. And vice-versa. 

You found yourself willfully seeking Ghost out, willingly sharing information with him. Nothing about your past, no, you would never tell anyone the things you had done. But little things, how you liked the food served this week, how your mission went, that your new pants were really itchy. And he told you things too. Told you really bad jokes, told you Soaps stupid Scottish saying of the week. And slowly you branched out, agreeing to go to the bar the next time Soap asked you, telling Gaz that you liked his new sunglasses. 

It was nice, having people who looked at you like you meant something to them. Having people who didn’t know what you’d done, people who didn’t look at you with disgust and distrust. It was nice to have…friends. 

So of course everything had to go downhill from there.

End scene :3 let me know what you think!!6 and be on the look out for pt.2, I hope you're ready for a buttload of angst >:) Also requests are open <3

[spookberry]

Shadow High series 3 my new beloved

I didnt even like most of em until i saw them in person, but the knowledge that they'll probably never be in the show has my brain in a "well its free realestate" kinda mood

Random list of information cuz ive been plotting out friend dynamics and background lore

-i like to pretend Rainbow High/Shadow High are actually Rainbow University/Shadow University cuz im in art college Right Now and i think it makes more sense with the whole dorm room situation. And also major makes more sense than focus IMO

-I changed Pinkie's major from film to just undeclared. I think she eventually does land on Film. She just has a lot of interests! Her dream has always been to one day direct films, and I think she comes to love them even more while developing ideas her with the group as she winds up in a Director/Producer position for most of them. BUT also every time she takes a class in a different program she cant help but fall in love with that way of making art too. So she has a hard time picking for a while and changed her major a couple times before landing on Film.

-Pinkie and Berrie bond a lot over a shared interest in vocal synths (tho Berrie knows more about them than her).

-The two made Pinkie's vtuber model together!

-the fandom wiki says PJ is from germany?? Idk how canon that is tbh but ive decided to embrace it i guess

-Rooney's canon name is Scarlet Rose, but i thought it was kinda lame especially when Rosie Redwood is also in this line sooo I renamed her! Stuck to the color name puns tho. Mar Rooney. Maroon. Haha

-Speaking on her though i love that shes from texas and likes writing scifi mystery type stuff and that being said i just Know deep in my bones that she was a Voltron Legendary Defender fan and Keith was/is 100% her favorite. She has a continued fondness for mothman specifically cuz of this.

-PJ and Rooney actually talk about fandom and shows/movies ALL the time. They dont have a ton of overlapping interests, but where they do? The two literally never shut up.

-Rosie is such a random character, like outside of her design she feels very poorly considered. So I scrapped the cosmetology thing and made her an illustrator instead! I think it works better with her love of making art in nature. I can see her being really into illustrated guide books. I think shes a bit snooty when it comes to art too. It takes being friends with other artists to become more open minded.

-I like the idea that Rosie is mainly friends with Rooney and Berrie ontop of that. The three of them often tag team storylines and how theyd interpret them into different mediums. Rosie will draw up a bunch of concept stuff while Rooney writes up a pitch bible and Berrie will start making shit move and throwing in her own ideas on camera angles and character designs.

-as an animation major Berrie was required to take a sound design class early on, which is where she met Oliver! Hes very laid back, and likes to go with the flow, but functions a little like the "mom" of the group. Often reminding the girls to take breaks, drink water, stop looking at their screens lest they get eye strain etc. He's multi-talented tbh but Music is his one true passion and he likes how the girls are always giving him collaboration opportunities.

-Oliver and Rosie like to talk sports a lot, both having played a bunch when they were younger and throughout high school.

-Lavender Lynn is Oliver's number one "person who needs constant reminders to settle down" she is in a constant buzz of trying to get the best shots and is utterly obsessed with the process of artistic documentation. Everything must be documented.

-the whole school loves her for this actually, she has a whole side gig where other students hire her to help photograph their projects. She saves everything she earns from this for her future dream plans to visit paris. She has it set really, many of the artists who she helps photograph now will remain steadfast clients of hers forever onward.

-PJ and Lynn actually took a print media class together at one point. Which didnt at the time spark an everlasting friendship. But it did give PJ an easier in to ask for Lynn's help documenting a project the group was working on. One of Lynn's first times photographing them work happened to fall on a day where Rosie had planned to trick everyone into going on a nature walk sans devices... Lynn wound up really appreciating this outing and decided to continue hanging around the group even after that project had ended.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In Plain Sight: Family Dinner

summary: nathan meets your sisters— alternatively, you get grilled by your family (nathan joins in of course).

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: this entire series is 18+, SIBLINGSSSSSS, talks of dating, bi!reader, teasing, food mention, mentions of caretaking/sick parent, kissing, nathan is so in love (so is reader)

wc: 1,465

an: back at it with these two again. i adore them. i love them. this is lowkey chaos. and nathan sort of fits in perfectly with her family’s chaos which i was expecting to struggle with a bit. thank you to @juneknight for always being there to listen and brainstorm, you’re too good to me!

in plain sight masterlist | tiana | planted | little hamlet

3 months post To Atomize

“If neither of you are ready he doesn’t have to come. But, he’s very excited to meet you.”

Emma and Phillipa are sat on the couch as you stand— more like pace— in front of them. You shouldn’t be nervous, it’s not like this is the first time they’ve met someone you’ve been involved with. Nathan isn’t just somebody is he though? Asshole boss turned slightly less asshole boyfriend. The word feels weird in your mouth, not just because 6 months ago you were calling him Mr. Bateman, but because he seems like so much more than that.

All of his talk of being obsessed, about being consumed, well you feel the same way. You aren’t sure that the term boyfriend really compasses that. But, who would you be to shut that down— saying it doesn’t feel right, or strong enough— when Nathan had the most smug, giddy look on his face when he called you his girlfriend for the first time?

“Oh my god, don’t be a chicken, we’re ready,” Phillipa gripes, leaning back against the couch to more easily fish her phone out of her pocket.

“Hey, don’t call me a chicken.”

“You’ve been dating Mr. Bateman forever,” She says, scrolling on her phone. “It’s been on Twitter.”

“Its been 6 months. Call him Nathan, he's not some stuffy old man.” You say. Well— he’s not old at least. “And please don’t mention Twitter, I’m perceived enough these days.”

Emma pipes up finally, “Phil says that’s a hella long time.”

You narrow your eyes at the older girl who’s giving your younger sister a similar look. “Phil says hella, does she?”

“Emma you swore you wouldn’t tell!”

“I didn’t! I used it in a sentence!”

“Okay, okay— we don’t yell at each other.. You’re both sure?”

“Yes!” They say together with different levels of eagerness, though they’re both excited.

You regard them with wary eyes. Nathan’s excited. They’re excited. Your nerves are certainly there, but you are too.

“Alright but I need you both to be on your best behavior. Be the sweet girls I know you are. And no more cussing. Either of you.”

—

Nathan’s been uncharacteristically quiet but you know that he’s just gathering information, feeling things out. But, Phillipa takes that as nerves and being the rebellious teenager that she is, she wants to have some fun.

She mixes up the pasta in front of her, examines it as she nonchalantly asks, “Nathan, where do babies come from?”

Nathan bites back a nervous laugh. “Don’t they teach you that in sex ed? I mean scientifically speaking it’s a bore but—“

“Nathan,” You grit out in warning, your eyes meeting his.

He gets the message straight away, going in for a different method of attack. “I could make a baby with my bare hands. Program it to never cry or eat, to sleep its 16 hours.”

Emma perks up. “Like a babydoll? Mine is broken.”

“Emma, a new doll is on your Christmas list. It's not broken, you just want the new one,” Phillipa says, reaching for the red pepper flakes.

“I could build her one that's better than anything you could buy on the market. Those things crap out, they malfunction.”

Your brow furrows as you look over at Nathan, this is not where you expected this conversation to go, though you’re not ungrateful. “You’re going to build my sister a doll?”

“Oh, please? Please, please, Mr. Bateman!”

“I told you to call him Nathan, Em.”

Phillipa leans in, “Hey, what about me? Emma gets a doll what do I get.”

“Nathan isn't here to give you thinks, Phil, he was just here to meet you.”

“That depends on what you like Philippa. I can do anything,” Nathan proclaims, leaning back against his chair and crossing his arms.

“Nobody can do anything.”

“That was before you met me. Name it.”

“I’m gonna think of something super impossible.”

“I look forward to proving you wrong, Phil.”

Phil studies him for a moment, trying to decide if she’ll say what’s on her mind. “You’re cooler than anybody she’s ever dated.”

“Oh really?”

“Phil, please,” You plead, completely abandoning eating in turn for twirling your pasta anxiously.

Phillipa ignores completely ignores you, grinning at Nathan’s interest. “Yeah, the last guy she brought looked like Goofy and sounded like Mickey Mouse.”

“Mickey Mouse, huh? You into rats, sweetheart?”

“What about the lady with the curly hair? I liked her,” Emma says softly.

Nathan’s brows raise as he trains his gaze on you. “The lady?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Your sisters and Nathan grilling you— together. This was simultaneously the best and the worst idea. They had to meet of course, what with you being pretty sure you want to spend the rest of your life with Nathan. But did they have to gang up on you like a well choreographed dance? Especially on the first go of it.

“We were friends. How do you even remember her, Em, you were a toddler?” You look at her with eyes that say back off but she’s 7, in her own world, having a great time.

Nathan’s building her a babydoll for gods sakes.

Emma grins, “She always gave me candies.”

“Wait a fuc—“ He stops himself, mindful of your sisters, repeating with just as much shock as before, “a lady?”

“Friends,” You emphasis again.

“I literally caught you two kissing,” Phil says, rolling her eyes.

“Philippa—“

Nathan throws his head back, laughing loudly, “Not much of an explanation for that, is there honey?”

“It never went anywhere— not that I owe to any of you to explain,” You give all of them narrowed eyes, your face feeling hotter than the surface of the sun.

“They were all nice at least,” Philippa muses, twirling some pasta around her fork.

“Like I would bring home somebody that would be mean to either of you.”

“Phillipa says people say Nathan’s a jackass,” Emma announces before stuffing more garlic bread in her mouth.

You fix Phillipa with an icy look, and she quickly looks away, suddenly very interested in the basket of garlic bread in front of her. “When I told you to spend more time with your sister, that really did not include teaching her swear words.”

“I like swear words!” Emma protests.

Nathan leans in, smiling wide, eyes glittering mischievously, “Emma, so do I.”

You lean closer to Nathan, whispering, “Honey, you’re not helping.”

“Right. Lips zipping,” He whispers back, straightening up.

You turn back to your sisters. “Less swear words, more dinner. Or are you finished?”

“I’m finished. Can we have the brownies Phillipa made?”

“Of course, little one. Phillipa? Nathan?”

Phil just gives you a nod, while Nathan says, “All good, sweetheart.”

Dessert is much more mellow, and afterwards Nathan offers to do the dishes for you so that you can make sure your sisters get to bed alright. Once you’ve said goodnight to them, you return to your room. You find Nathan there, fingers tracing the trinkets and family heirlooms that sit on your desk.

You shut the door quietly behind you, “I told you they were…”

“Like you?” Nathan suggests, his mouth sitting in that smug grin.

You scoff. “Nosy. I’m not nosy.”

“You’re pretty fucking nosy.”

“Am not.”

“I didn’t say I disliked it about you honey, don’t get your panties in a twist,” He reaches for you, crowding you against the wall near your bed.

“My panties are untwisted, Nathan,” You say matter of factly, unimpressed with him.

He grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek, your jaw, your neck. “Can I take them off then?”

“My sisters are down the hall, so is my mom,” You whisper, a little breathless and Nathan takes note of that.

“I thought you liked covering my mouth?” He asks, pulling away from your neck to wag his eyebrows at you. You stare up at him, eyes alight, mouth flat. He wants to kiss you until his brain melts out of his ears but digresses. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bateman,” You say, your voice a little exasperated though there’s a smile pulling at your lips. You detangle yourself from him, starting towards the door. “I’ll get you some towels to shower and check on my mom.”

“You’ll let me know if she’s up for company?” Nathan watches you deflate, sorry that he even asked. But, he’s eager to meet the woman who raised you. He wants to ask questions and know more about the both of you.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know,” You murmur.

“If not, I’ll just write her a note. You know I’m good for it,” He murmurs, nodding head towards the note he’d written you that sits on your nightstand. “Come back here. Please.”

When you cross the room to him, he pulls in close, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that makes you so dizzy you can’t remember that you were sad.

“What was that for?”

He raises a brow at you, “What, I can’t kiss my girlfriend whenever I want?”

“You and that word are really going strong?”

“You jealous?”

“Nathan, that would make a negative amount of sense, my love.”

He starts to kiss at your neck like before, using a little more teeth this time. “Oh that’s new. I like that. Say it again.”

“To the shower, Bateman.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho, @redcake333

[theglamorousferal]

So if you’re new to the Danny Phantom fandom whether that be because you have joined us via a crossover, the new graphic novel coming out or just somehow got hooked into this fandom there are a few things you should know.

90% of content you will see is purely fanon lore.

I’m gonna divide this into two different sections, going over what is canon and then the most common things from fanon.

So if you go by the show, we have at least three different kinds of ghosts. We have ones like the Fright Knight who is a spirit formed from the feelings and beliefs of people surrounding the thoughts of Halloween and we have ones who were once humans like Sidney Poindexter and Desiree. There are also some who are the product of two different ghosts like Box Lunch. We technically also have the Ancients, but we don’t know anything about them except that they existed many years ago and then they enclosed Pariah Dark in the Sarcophagus of Forever sleep.

We know that a high concentration of ectoplasm introduced very quickly can causes human to turn into a half ghost. This happened with Danny at least 3 times, and the accident Vlad had (as well as Jack in an alternate timeline). Danny was changed twice by the portal and then once by being blasted by a bunch of ectoplasm.

In canon, the Fenton parents are very loving parents with just a bit of absent mindedness to them that leads to them missing the obvious signs that something is up with Danny. Every time in the show that he is exposed to them, he is accepted by them entirely. Even when in an alternate timeline where his parents never got together, he is accepted by them.

In canon, Jazz started out not knowing how to help Danny, Tucker and Sam, but it is shown in the show that she trains to be better later on. She still calls the ghosts by things she designated them as though, not how they would like to be called.

In canon, Vlad is awful. He regularly tries to Hamlet the main character. He tried to ruin/kill Jack to get with Maddie and make their kids his kids many, many times. He cloned a child, gaslit the clones into thinking he cared for them and then planned to melt them down to have his “perfect son”. In canon of the show, Vlad is not redeemable. (This sorta changes a bit in the graphic novel, but it’s a toss up whether that is actually considered active canon or if it’s its own canon now.)

In canon, Tucker is a genius after he was forced to sit through 12 hours of study programming. In canon, he is the reincarnation of a Pharaoh. He can speak a made-up language, Esperanto, and can hack into nearly every piece of tech he comes across.

In canon, Sam is obsessed with all things goth and so has tomes about magical beings and artifacts. She is athletic and is always ready to throw down. She only has plant powers in the episode “Urban Jungle”.

Now onto the Fanon, at least the most popular headcanons that I have come across.

The most common thing among the fandom is that Danny is half-dead. Some have him a ghost possessing his own corpse. Some have him be Schrodinger’s boy. Some have him have lower vitals or just no vital signs altogether. He is said to have died and not come back all the way or right. Common things have him be cold to the touch, a lower heart rate, and him forgetting to breathe entirely.

Probably the second most common headcanon is that Danny is the Ghost King after having fought and defeated Pariah Dark in single combat. Ways he takes the throne are varied, everything from him being forcibly put onto the throne and unable to go to the human world, to having to name Jazz or Maddie as regent until he reaches either human or ghostly majority, to him taking the throne but it being more of a figurehead thing. Most stories will have him have a plethora of titles and names he goes by. Along with this he now has a lair inside the Zone, most have him taking over Pariah’s Keep and some do have him have his own new lair.

Another popular headcanon is Ancient of Space or the Balance Danny (going with AGIT, the balance actually is now canon). These lead to things like Danny having an eldritch form. Something that is obviously “other” and hurts to perceive.

Both of these result in an OP Danny and probably around half of them will have him stuck at 14 and/or functionally immortal.

Another very common DP headcanon is Bad Fenton Parents and that their research caused the GIW’s formation. Alongside that come the most common type of fic you will come across which is where Danny has been captured by either the GIW or his parents and then is vivisected. Majority of them will have him vivisected by his own parents. Many of them will have them be varying levels of neglectful, from just not noticing things about their kids to straight up forgetting they were there and Jazz having to take care of them both.

In most fanon, the GIW are actively trying to genocide an entire species. This is closest to a canon thing considering that they did try to nuke the GZ, which would have resulted in their universe also collapsing. The things that some people write/draw for the atrocities the GIW and Bad!Fentons are things that I bring up to my therapist frequently. Be prepared for descriptive gore.

There are a few characters that have spawned in fanon that are widely accepted as canon characters now. The main one is Wes Weston along with his brother Kyle. Wes Weston was a background character that we see for about 3 frames in one episode, but he looked similar to Danny and had green eyes and the fandom latched onto that. It started out with someone claiming the A-listers would think that Wes is Phantom because he’s athletic, had the same build and green eyes. From there, the fandom has decided that he also is the only person to figure out that Danny was Phantom and tries frequently to expose him. Kyle Weston is Wes’ older brother, in the same class as Jazz and he doesn’t believe that ghosts are real and is played for gags a lot.

Another major piece of fanon lore is ghost cores. This stems from a remark Frostbite said talking about Danny’s core temperature and the fans took it and ran with it. In fanon there’s all kinds of different types of ghost cores, usually an element or an aspect of existence. Many have Danny possess an ice core, in some he has a space core. Others take his “death” into consideration and believe him to have an electric core. Commonly people have Vlad have a fire core. Usually cores are an orb that a ghost can retreat into to heal. If the core is shattered, the ghost is ended and no longer exists in any capacity.

Similar to cores is obsessions. These are essentially the purpose of the ghost, their drive and purpose. Skulker’s is hunting, Ember’s is recognition etc. Most give Danny a protection obsession, but will sometimes give him a space obsession.

Something that has gained traction in the last few years (to my knowledge mostly since the pandemic) is liminality. Liminality is where people are contaminated with ectoplasm due to overexposure or ingestion of it and it gives them ghostly abilities. Different people have liminality give people different abilities. Some have glowing eyes, lengthened canines and pointed ears. Some have enhanced senses, strength and speed as well as extra durability. Some have eyes that reflect like a cats and night vision. Some even go so far as give them at least one of the major ghostly abilities.

How someone becomes liminal differ depending on if the writer wishes to have it just be main characters or if it’s the entire town. If it’s just main characters then usually their frequent exposure to ghostly things as well as close proximity to it makes them liminal. For the whole town people will usually have the portal give off essentially radiation or when the town was pulled into the GZ be the cause.

Frequently Sam, Tucker and to a lesser extent Jazz are given extra abilities. Sam usually has residual powers from her time possessed by Undergrowth, Tucker usually has some form of techno Nancy and Jazz usually has some sort of empathetic ability, if not that she get’s the basic extra strength, speed, durability and senses.

There are some lesser known ones that should at least be mentioned in case you come across them. One of those being ghost hunger. This is where ghosts or liminals thirst for ectoplasm similar to how vampires thirst for blood. Another common thing is that ghosts socialize by fighting. That most of the fights are ghosts greeting the baby ghost. The last thing is that the main characters are known as Team Phantom.

I’m probably going to think of more later and I’ll post when I do, but this is the basics that I could remember on the fly. I hope this helps people!!

[dxmedstudent]

Thank you for being open abt your age! i, too, am a physician in my 30s and still working on my application for residency program (not even started on one yet). I always feel so hopeless and kind of embarrassed about my age (almost all of my colleagues are way younger than me) but then i saw your post :)

I hope you have a good day because you certainly made mine better

You're welcome!

I started studying medicine late by UK standards - after a prior degree, and I retrained from being a hospital medical doctor into GP, so for me, finishing training has been a long process even though I was full time for all of that (it hurts the mental health, I don't really recommend full time hospital training TBH). I also took a couple of years out along the way to try different specialities as well as work on applications because it was what I needed to do at the time due to when I was applying.

Funnily enough, along this winding path I have worked under colleagues who used to be in the same year of training as me, and that feels a little weird. Because you realise you haven't progressed nearly as much as some people even though you've been working pretty damn hard. Some people absolutely zoom through training the fastest they possibly can, but many of us need to take our time. And that's OK.

I did feel in limbo for a little while towards the end of my CMT training as the exams weren't happening (covid) and you can't progress without exams, so they offered to let me continue my training for at least a year (likely two) to get those exams and slot into the new IMT system. I just no longer wanted to be in any of those hospital specialties badly enough to put up with the system as it was, and saw a life for myself in GP with perhaps special interests in certain things. Over time your priorities can change and honestly it can be tiring to do this thing for years.

Life takes us all on different paths. I might have felt a bit old in med school but maybe 1/3 of our year was graduates so it was a common experience. When I was in med school we had people in their 40s in our class - people with grown kids and entire previous lives. And medicine is richer if the people I'm it are more varied or have different life experiences.

Life happens, we can't put it off and wanting to be young forever doesn't actually freeze us at age 25. I'm not sure I'd even WANT to be 25 forever - I like the growth I've had since then. Society REALLY obsesses over youth, but there's nothing magical about being under 25 or under 30.

You just have to do things along the way and fill your life with the things and people you enjoy. The time will pass far faster than we think.

[literallys-illiteracy]

The floor of technological sciences:

ahhhh i realised that the other one had some things that i wanted to change so i thought that i might as well upload it all in one post.

this one is longer than Malkuth's, shorter than Tiphereth's (i dont think that any are going to get to that length)

The harms of Technology, Capitalism and selling your soul to the devil:

i dont know if this title is better than the one i had before but i have a headache and cant be bothered titling it any better than this

Forsaken murderer was at one point in the past, a murderer on death row; rather than execution he served as a test subject so that scientists may learn how to cure a disease, though injections and chemicals his violent tendencies, along with humanity, were removed. 

Following these experiments he was no longer considered dangerous, as he had seemingly no intention to attack, meaning he was unrestrained, after this, the murder began having delusions, specifically of his head turning into metal (hence the EGO line for meursault) which caused him to begin bashing his head into solid objects - in the time following this, an incident occurred involving the murder of one of the researchers, leading to the murderer to be dissected.

Though the helper was designed to assist humanity, to recognise and assist human behaviour, it is never able to do so, its instruments being replaced with sharp blades rather than cleaning tools; The helper does not act from a will to help however, it simply follows its programming, there is no reason for it to question these instructions, rather it need just act them out as it was ordered.

Singing machine doesn't really have a backstory like others, it's simply the machine itself, and the obsession that it induces over its music; the noises produced are so addicting that those who seek it will sacrifice other employees into the grinder for it to continue; or, if we dissect it as a metaphor, the machine rewards those who willingly sacrifice others in order to succeed (yup its capitalism)

“They're bound to the company the moment they enter. Even if they do resign, they are doomed to stay here forever."

The Funeral of Dead Butterflies tells the story of a pious man who entered the company carrying a coffin to mourn those who could not leave, who soon became trapped inside the company walls himself, becoming a husk with burning memories of an empty faith.

The Funeral of dead butterflies can be separated into 3 thematic faucets, although all connecting back to the abnormality and floor as a whole.

The first is shown primarily in its, and the city’s, story as a whole: The concept of a corporatocracy.

As you enter the company, you sign the contract, you may never leave, even if one retires, they are bound to stay with the company forever.

The second is the funeral, formerly the religious man, coming to mourn those who’s souls are bound to these company walls, to act as a saviour; The Funeral too is trapped inside the company, slowly losing their sense of self, endlessly walking the halls without meaning.

The third is the Kaleidoscope of butterflies, the souls of those who were mourned in the company, trapped inside the confines of this coffin. 

The thematic of the butterflies is best demonstrated through a quote from the Abnormality’s story: 

“Butterflies are supposed to pollinate flowers, but not a single proper flower blooms in this place. There is no choice but to wait. After all, there must be an end to every world” 

In this, the Funeral of dead butterflies embodies the concept of death. Not only does it represent death in the sense of mortality, the Funeral relates to the concept of death and change, the embodiment of endings and new beginnings.

The butterflies being cocooned inside the coffin, the employees being trapped within the company; Through the ending of the company, the souls will be free to fly forth, to live as a human does, rather than a slave to those better off.

Der Freischütz, German for “The Freeshooter” is based off of figure in german folklore of the same name, who sold their soul to the devil for 7 bullets, the first 6 able to hit any target the marksman desired, but the last of which would only follow the will of the devil himself; a story of selling your soul 

In their backstory within Lobotomy Corporation, Freischütz, before taking this deal, murdered all their beloved, so that the destined bullet would have no target, yet in the end it pierced his heart. 

The Freischütz then wondered across different worlds, acting purely off of base impulse, having lost their soul long ago; The Freischütz did not only lose their soul when the devil pierced their heart, but when they gave up their loved ones in an attempt to trick the devil, but the devil seeks only suffering, which the Freischütz has long caused.

Floor Realisation links:

…I am Angela, your AI secretary whose role is to assist you in adjusting to your new workplace.

Linking Angela to our abnormalities of this floor, a new link begins to reveal itself, all linking back to Angela’s imprisonment, her lack of discretion throughout Lobotomy Corporation:

In her past, Angela was a puppet to the script, being directed, given orders she could not understand nor refuse; Her life written in stone, orchestrated by Ayin.

Though she was designed to assist the facilities, act as a helper, an assistant, she soon realised that she could not act on emotions.

Ayin’s script allowed no room for humanity, each step must be enacted as it was written, each order to be followed exactly and without question.

Though one may argue Angela to be cruel throughout Lobotomy Corporation, these sufferings were not made under her discretion, rather, this pain was merely an outcome of her script, the one she could never disobey.

After all:

A machine had no use for values. There was no point discerning between good and bad when the principles were already set in stone.

Though witnessing, causing and abiding by these sufferings, Angela was not in a place to question this, for she was in the same suffering as all others trapped within the company.

There was a time when I was sick of seeing any more death.

Despite Angela’s stoic nature throughout Lobotomy Corporation, Anglea was not willing in these sacrifices made in the plan, seeing countless, horrible gruesome deaths, yet shedding a tear would dampen the wings, and the play would reset; In this mourning, Angela embodies the funeral, yet should others not also mourn for her? Can the sufferings, the sacrifices made by others compare to how she has suffered? 

Angela was too mourned in the coffin, being trapped within the company, yet she was never allowed the rest that this confinement provided, she need endlessly fly towards the end, Angela is both the mourner and the mourned in this story, she is the butterfly inside the butterfly’s coffin inside the butterfly’s coffin (inside a bag of milk).

“Butterflies are supposed to pollinate flowers, but not a single proper flower blooms in this place. There is no choice but to wait. After all, there must be an end to every world”

And, just as the butterflies are meant to pollinate, those with a soul are meant to live freely, not confined inside the corporation, not dictated by a script, but with discretion and on their own accord; Just as the Funeral says, there is no life worth living within this place, so Angela must bring an end to her confinement, break free from her chains, and pollinate flowers i guess? 

A morbid script written for the purpose of treatment, and a machine slowly becoming numb in the act, losing her sense of guilt…

Along the course of her confinement, Angela’s sense of self withered away; Akin to the Forsaken murderer she was, for lack of a better word, forsaken, by the script, by her creator.

Though Angela suffered in their stead she was never rewarded, never applauded on the stage alongside the others; Chained to her role, never given a chance to live, never given a reason, her humanity began to erode, her guilt for these actions, her grief at witnessing these deaths faded, and in their place came a burning resentment, a hate towards those who put her here, who confined her, who decided that she would suffer before others, and that she would never be thanked for her role.

Just like the Murderer, Angela was trapped, an unceasing loop of ending, beginning, ends. Begins. Ends. Begins. Until… it ended, in a final rest for the murderer, and in the first life for Angela.

“Am I not allowed to help that person…? But they seem to be in so much pain…” …The sound of weakness.

reflecting the past of Lobotomy Corp alongside mirroring our current Angela, the singing machine represents her past, yet also her lack of reason. While she seeks freedom, she is a prisoner to the library, lacking any discretion, and suffering being the only path:

Angela was long a bystander to the machinations of Lobotomy Corporation, being powerless to help those who suffered for the greater cause, fed to corporation for Ayin’s plan, yet she also may manifest as the sacrifice herself; 

Angela was cast aside by Ayin, abandoned to be the only one in the machine, left aside even at the end, never hearing the melody that she suffered so long for; For this, in order to spite Ayin's plan, she now takes the role of the maddened employee.

We all take the sacrifice of others for granted, so that we can have immediate satisfaction.

Angela’s single minded nature mimics that of those employees who crave the song from the machine, entirely dedicated to pursuing this promised song, not caring for any consequences, never stopping to see what she has caused.

In essence, Angela’s quest for the one true book, makes her a slave to the library, being unable to live without it, no more free than completing Ayin’s plan, her single goal, her only motivation to continue living.

I came to a realisation; perhaps the last bullet was meant to puncture no one else but me.

Angela’s single minded desires, her loss of grief, and her sacrifice, both of others and herself, culminate in her taking on the EGO of Der Freischütz;

No matter how many lives would be lost for her ambitions, no matter how many innocents were in the line of her target, she would not hesitate to pull the trigger, to act out the script despite their suffering and to seek the one true book through the pain of others.

This sacrificing of innocents, this selfish act, is mirrored in the Freischütz bargain, their acceptance of this devil’s deal, their sacrifice of all they called beloved, and finally, of their soul.

Though Angela, as a machine, may not have been born with a soul, she is revealed to have one in the finale of lob corp, manifested through her desires to live, through the fragmented remains of her human nature, through her heart.

It is in this where the story of the Freischütz differs, whereas the bullet may have pierced Angela’s heart long ago, her soul was not claimed, she may have lost her humanity as she lived through her torment, yet she was not without emotions, she felt every second of pain, every moment of grief, of agony within these chains, the bullet never removing what she had not originally.

The finale of the Freischütz leaves them alone, without even the devil to whom they lost their soul, alone in the depths of this hell, much the same as Ayin planned for Angela in the end. 

The day I got my hands on this bullet, I sank down upon the ground. Was it despair that the Devil wished for?

In terms of thematics, Angela may resonate much closer to the Schütze, rather that the Freischütz, through the longing, the hope, that one day she may too become the cold machine, uncaring as the Freischütz: Angela, like the Schütze, may have hoped freedom through the loss of their soul, through the freedom brought about by nihilism (note to self, write essay about memento mori by William Woodium).

Not a sliver of impurity is allowed for the mind of those who mourn, it must remain reverent and solemn.

The Rationality to Maintain Discretion:

Gabriel: We thought relying on emotion wouldn’t help a thing. However, it became clear that to accept sadness was just as important. The false rationality we held and clung to only made our hearts rot. It is hard to accept at first. You’ll feel like you’d crumble in. But it’ll get better, I’m sure of it. - Yesod

Following Elijah's Death in the events before Lobotomy Corporation, Gabriel, now Yesod, suppressed himself, leaving only his rationality in stead of his emotions.

Gabriel began to be obsessed with safety, compulsively covering every part of his skin except for his head, ensuring that all rules must be followed perfectly, hoping that these rational precautions will be enough to prevent further death.

This obsession lead to psychosis, Gabriel believing that he was rotting from the inside, compulsively scratching at his skin until forced to take a medical checkup preceding his death.

Gabriel's death was caused though his obsessive rationality, believing that he should bury emotions, even those of mourning for Elijah, so that his decisions would not be clouded.

In holding to this false rationality, that he must suppress all his emotions, Gabriel, Yesod, mirrors his floor's abnormalities, foremost being the Der Freischutz.

"The despaired heart couldn’t go out in a passionate flame. It would only burn with a cold fire."

"Now I see; I have been wallowing in despair, for such a long time."

Akin to Angela, Yesod's relation is in the loss of ones soul, or wishing that they had; Gabriel attempted to bury his emotions, sacrifice his soul in the same manner the Freischutz did, to view all this death and suffering without a clouded mind.

The root cause of Gabriel's psychosis was wishing to not see suffering, to not witness the deaths of any others for the research, mirroring the position of Angela's beginning, and the story of the Funeral of dead butterflies, not wishing to see others suffer, yet losing ones self rather than mourning those who are lost to them.

Angela:

Similar to the way that Gabriel, or Yesod, hoped that rationality would be able to prevent death, Angela too wished to not see the death and horrors of Lobotomy Corporation, the reason that her eyes are closed in a majority of the game’s sprites.

Both Angela and Yesod were viewed as cold uncaring machines due to this trait within the events of the game, hoping that a cold emotionless approach would minimise suffering, thinking that clinging to their false rationality would bring the better future they wished for.

In the transition from Lobotomy Corporation to Library of Ruina, Angela begins to show more and more emotions, experiencing situations for the first time, acting without the puppeteer’s strings which controlled her for so long, she no longer needs to maintain her robotic facade.

Despite this, in the earliest sections of the game, Angela is unable to show the full depth of her emotions, attempting to seal the memories of her past behind, to not be driven by her irrational emotions, the same desire held by Gabriel before the events of the first game.

This suppression of emotions in pursuit of rationality is the same pitfall which held both Yesod and Ayin before her.

What Angela lacks is that of emotions, the drive behind her actions is which she views as rational, yet is driven by a suppressed hatred and sorrow, a buried past rearing its head to drive her forward. 

While Gabriel’s actions were driven from grief, the loss of Elijah, he maintained the view that he was driven by rationality.

Just like Gabriel in the past, Angela must uncloud her vision in order to pursue her dream of becoming a human

Thanks for reading, find the others of this series below:

Angela Floors:

<Malkuth>

Roland Floors:

<Tiphereth>

[thegreatyin]

i'd like to give my guesses for your oc's enitity affiliations!

scoundrel

avatar - spiral? majorly based off her shenanigans in the neon future as mr cards and her current business as a 'nightmare cleanser' when silvering. all avatars are snacked on by their patron a little (e.g jon is the beholding's special little boy, but he is very afraid of people finding secrets about him) but im not sure what scoundrel would suffer from!

victim - flesh/buried. a need to constantly modify one's body to be more while fearing that you've already hit the limit. he fears he will be forever caged in a body hostile to him.

2. caeru

avatar - the beholding's would-be special little girl (ex-seeker and homunculi creator twice over), but the end's most successful daughter (would say slaughter, but don't know how much enjoyment she gets from the violence). is snacked on as she fears the death of her loved ones.

victim - flesh (objectification instead of modification like her husband, but she would probably have her powers influenced by this, like how jon can compel people like a web-avatar otherwise would) and desolation (nemesis pc, is a flesh victim BECAUSE she wishes her loved ones the best)

3. lark

avatar - going to say something crazy here but i think lark is a hunter 🤔, perhaps with a hint of slaughter depending on how much he relishes in the goriness of his kill. is snacked on due to the fear of being prey

victim - buried. lol. lmao. (outside of literal claustrophobia, its the fear of being trapped under someone else's thumb. would say web, but lark doesn't seem the type to get lost in the intricacies of someone's motivations?)

4. greylu

avatar - web. he's ourple-coded, a servant to the great game (thus people fear the manipulation of information), and he's connected to orphans. as for snacking, i am looking pointedly at the vake yearner.

victim: don't know enough about the guy ;w;. children of the mother of puppets are also her victims to a degree far more than other powers (annabelle cane, tma's most recognisable web avatar, was forcibly turned into one during a program she joined specifically to GET OVER her fear of spiders, as the web had marked her since she was a child) but i would also say desolation, as he runs an orphanage in good-faith. perhaps also the lonely and the stranger, as he relies on others (so far) to make sense of the world, as he does not know himself.

HI. SORRY THIS TOOK FIVE MILLION YEARS TO ANSWER. I STARED AT IT AND ADMIRED IT AND THEN FORGOT IT EXISTED LIKE A FUCKING FOOL.

anyway. this ask is everything to me u have no idea. spiral scoundrel is so based i'm obsessed with her. it fits so so well and i am so so delighted by her existence. it reminds me of these tags i made awhile back about what her neon future casino business looks like;

she's deceived herself to the point of losing touch with reality! she's locked herself in a literal and figurative maze and she can't escape either! get spiraled idiot!! get absolutely spiraled!!!! flesh is also perfect, of course, but that was obvious from day one.

and caeru. caeru caeru caeru. i am biting and chewing the way you phrased this. the end's most successful daughter,,,, very fitting for her status as Insane Transfem That Technically Almost Ended The World, and doubly fitting for what i have in mind for her advanced destiny. and desolation. DESOLATION IS SO GOOD I'M MAD AT YOU? in a light hearted way, of course.

seriously. it's called a reckoning. you assign caeru with The Reckoning Fear. this is so brutal to her specifically. it fits to a T though.

lark, shockingly, is indeed hunt coded. i know, none of us could've ever predicted this. he's actually less slaughter than i expected, though he's definitely a favorite of the buried. you're right in that he doesn't have many ties to the web? if he cared about motivation he wouldn't have latched onto tormenting poor edward so much. it doesn't matter to him that edward is brainwashed, it matters that he's a threat. nothing more, nothing less.

greylu,, you're right in that he's definitely a web avatar, but i think you're underselling just how much he's a victim of it as well. desolation kind of fits him, but not nearly to the extent it does caeru. its entire state of being is wrapped up in what other people want out of it/what they choose to tell it. there's never been a point in the shadow's (admittedly, so far, very short) existence where it hasn't been manipulated into the shape of someone else's design. the stranger and the lonely, for reasons that haven't yet come up in conversation, are also excellent fits.

anyway. as stated, i love this ask, i'm obsessed with it, you earn a gold star in yin oc reading comprehension, 10/10 no notes

[thatgirloncrack]

helloww!! first of all I want to say that I LOVE YOUR CORRUPTION AU FIC, IT'S SO $+@)#+@(#;;@;@;2!1 it's one of my favs! 😭😭 but I'd like to know if you have some hcs of the average toxic couple

and again GREAT FIC I LOVE IT 😭✨

Oh wow I didn’t expect to see a comment about my fic on Tumblr what a nice surprise! Thanks a lot for saying you like my fic as much as you do. If ya want toxic Beckory then I’m your gal! I have a bunch of hcs of my GGY fic so I’ll just tell you my favorite/main ones.

1. This one is less of a hc and more of a rant. It’s kinda obvious but Tony puts Gregory on a pedestal. And when I mean pedestal, I mean a pedestal so high he can’t even see him. Basically the main reason Tony’s so desperate to be with Greg and know his secrets is simply because it makes him feel important. In his la la land Gregory is absolute perfection and is almost like god to him. He’s the greatest mystery. An anomaly. A real life Fnaf Wikipedia if it was written by Scot himself. He’s the key to the history behind the horrors that have haunted the city of Hurricane since, like, forever. And having free access to said knowledge makes Tony feel special and important. Also the known fact that Gregory could perfectly tear his guts out at any moment but chooses not to makes Tony’s feeling of superiority worse. Basically Tony’s winning a game only he’s playing. He sees Gregory as an outer being, and doesn’t understand why people don’t view him the same way he does. And think Tony’s want for him and his knowledge is impractical because they don’t view Gregory in the same light Tony does. Which translates too, “you don’t know him like I do 😫🥺” in Tonys head. In conclusion, being with Gregory and knowing his stories makes Tony feel superior to others because he sees Gregory as god and wholeheartedly believes that Gregory is the only one who can understand him or love him because only he’s good enough for Tony. Course there are other reasons but that’s the main one,

2. Gregory loves Tony because of the way he treats him. Basically how his programming works is that it calculates a situation and matches emotions and responses based on what is most appropriate at the time. Constantly being surrounded by death and his agony making him violent is how his AI got thrown out of wack and is why his system tells him to kill people. Same logic goes to Tony. His code tells him how to act to Tony’s clear affection and devotion to him. Which is why he acts like he loves him and doesn’t harm him. Since they met Tony’s wore his emotions on his sleeve about Gregory, which overtime caused his AI to basically say, “Hey I think he likes you. Dky, but he unhealthy craves your attention and your secrets and will literally kill himself for it. Isn’t that funny! We should keep him around!” And that’s was the story of how Tony became Gregory’s pet basically.

3. Tony and Greg play off of each others egos. Knowing Gregory’s stories and being with him in general makes Tony feel better than everyone because he’s gained the favoritism of one of the demons that have plagued the city for decades. Gregory enjoys Tony obsession with him greatly and finds his feelings for him amusing and adorable. He keeps Tony around because he’s basically a yes man and would willingly let Gregory kill him and not give a shit because he loves him more than his own life.

4. Tony has SEVERE separation anxiety when it comes to Gregory. The first few days since they met Tony literally stopped him from leaving because he was afraid he was gonna disappear again. It took a bit for Gregory to reassure Tony enough that he won’t so he could leave. Even after that Tony still gets weird whenever Gregory leaves. But he’s working on it and Gregory doesn’t put it against him either.

5. Gregory has the glamrocks parts. This one’s pretty self-explanatory. Basically he used the broken machines to upgrade himself before he completely destroyed the place. Now he’s a weird mix of his original ends and them. He has Roxy’s eyes. Monty’s hands, teeth and backbone structure, along with other parts as well. Making him strong and durable as fuck.

6. Anything related to Afton or FE is under a curse. This sounds kinds obvious, but it’s not cursed the way you think. This idea was sprinkled in the books so I took it and decided to make it a main focus of the fic. The curse placed upon the pizzerias basically goes as follows. Animatronics are filled with others agony and are constantly wanting more. Some Joe walks into a location barring some kind of agony (such as jealousy, dissatisfaction etc) and the animatronics sense it. The building finds a way to get said person to A come back into the building, or B gets a animatronic out to hunt them down. Animatronics feed off of people’s hatred, and the only way to get rid of that is to either die or let go of whatever agony you carry and metaphorically throw it away to get eaten by the building so they won’t target you anymore. I like the theme of this idea from the books a whole lot so I implemented it into my fic.

6. Gregory feeds off of Tony’s negativity. Like I said in the last thing Fazbear animatronics feed off of agony. And Gregory is no different. Which is another reason why he kills. Basically the only person that’s been able to cheat the curse is Tony. He went inside a FE property and almost got killed. He should’ve died there because according to the rules you have to let go of your pain to escape. But he didn’t. Somehow he glitched the system and managed to escape the building without letting go of his pain. Which is why many years later after they find each other Gregory turns Tony into an agony dispenser. With FE gone Greg can’t have his hatred fix consistently anymore. Which is another reason he sticks around Tony. Tony basically oozes negative emotions. Such as pride jealousy and envy. Which are all things they feed on. Instead of killing Tony, Greg uses him as a battery almost. Being around him lets him have a constant supply of negativity to feed off of without having to kill something everyday to satisfy his placed urges. Which is the reason he tends to act more normal around Tony. Being with him doesn’t make him docile, but it does keep his instincts at bay.

7. Tony doesn’t like death. Despite him not giving a fuck about his boyfriend’s kill count he doesn’t like death. He doesn’t like people dying or seeing death at all. He doesn’t care that Greg kills people and always finds a way to justify it. This person hurt him. That person was in his way. Are all things he had told himself to excuse his tendencies. He has never once asked Gregory to kill somebody for him. Even though there are many people he would prefer dead, the idea of indirectly ending a life didn’t sit well with him. Course that later changed after something happens later in the story.

That’s all I’m gonna share for right now cause it’s getting kinda long. If ya want anymore or if you have questions or sm else feel free to ask me again! Thx for reaching out and giving me your support :)

[kiruyeen]

omg hi me again hehe

i could rant forever about just, everything going on right now but i dont want to waste your time. this arc right now is like insane??? /vpos

back in mid december, i got recommended episode 11 of ava, and it completely reignited my passion for this show. i loved it back in 2018 (6 years ago *a grey hair appears*), 'the virus' is like top 5 episodes for me. i could go on about alans storytelling but i want to talk about yours >:3

dark is actually my favourite character in media right now, and is top 3 for me in my whole life (number 1 goes to rainbow dash). hes arguably the most complex character in the whole show, and you convey him perfectly!? the witty cold-but-has-a-soft-spot™ attitude, the flirting with enemies, the over protectiveness of chosen, the "he learns quantum theory for fun"; its just so perfect and is what id imagine dark to be like if he was an anti hero in a cartoon.

the art, dont even get me started. your art style is so scrumptious 5 star meal yummy in my tummy it makes me stim so hard when i see it. and OMG DARKYELLOW. ohhhhh darkyellow. i love love love love love love love love them SO MUCH. im thinking about making a shrine to them like HOLY SHIT. combining one of the most underappreciated members of the CG and my favourite character in the show!? youre killing me over here. im kinda grateful my dark rp blog didnt get big because i wouldnt have been able to see your amazing art.

what im trying to say is- im like your #1 hype man. you seem like such a cool person then you roleplay my favourite character!? what are the chances!

also our dark alter is like annoyingly obsessed, he wont shut up about you LMAO

YOU!!!

THIS IS SUCH AN AWESOME THING TO WAKE UP TO???? ARE YOU SERIOUS????? I CANT EVEN PICK IT APART TO REPL YTO INDIVIDUAL BITS BECAUSE WE GO EEEEEAAAAAAAA EVERY TIME WE READ UT OK HOLD ON

it was also the 11th ep that got me into this fandom. well. I had it in my recommended and went "huh. last time they were fighting a spider. how did we get here" and then I got caught up and uhh yeah. 2 months and 8 spontaneus headmates (most we ever acquired in a short period) later this thing is beloved to me.

it genuinely makes me so, SO happy that you not only enjoy my depiction of dark, but see my vision!!! because if the person I literally have the programming to destroy within my code was also the only friend I had and they consistently overshadowed me without even meaning to Id probably develop some sort of wretched mental health about it too.

and like!!! most people miss this but Dark didnt try to kill Chosen. because he clearly had the chance and was in the mindspace to after destroying CG, but he did not. despite it being literally in his code, he did not! that takes SO much self control you dont even know. he simply tired them out and subdued them so they couldnt get in his way about it. that was what the bracelet was for, so he didnt tire himself out as well. it was always more of a defense mechanism first and a weapon second and I think abt that a lot.

I could probably yap about this man for hours if given the chance and Im not joking! I hate that for a character with a lot of possible intricacies, Alan didnt do much with him. but Im also glad a little because uhm. whatever alan would come up with I can do better. by projecting my NPD symptoms onto him. /exag /silly

and darkyellow was NOT planned, surprisingly enough, and @hiiperfixate has as equal of a hand in it as I did. but Im genuinely so happy with him and Im glad others are too. ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING IF DARK DID HAVE SOME SORT OF HEIR TO HIS THECNOLOGY ITD DEF BE YELLOW!! FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE!! yellow deserves a chance to go ape shit just because, I think. also I love how he reminds me of caution tape thats what I was calling him before darkyellow got caught on.

I really did not mean to overshadow any other Dark blogs. that was my main concern when I first made the blog (that or I would get overshadowed) jdjdjs. the most common rp format as it is right now isnt very accomodating of doubles unless u wanna go the spiderverse route and that sucks a little :']

I endlessly appreciate your words and I will be printing it and taping it on my wall and eating it (in that order). also, it is very in character that Dark's biggest fan is also Dark. just saying. /silly (for good reason too, we rock!)

- Spencer/TDL. Ive been stuck in front for weeks how the hell do I get ou-

[alt255]

staring at the ceiling at 3am, thinking I should get even more obnoxiously obsessed over shuuen than I already am.

No, making and maintaining a Shuuenpro guide website for over 5 years wasn't enough for me. Neither was spending 2 weeks programming an entire Discord bot that can play every music track.

Nor was buying physical copies of every album version (that i could find) and light novel and manga volume. Nor was ripping every light novel and manga raw + other things. Nor was going frame by frame in every single MV and crossfade and taking a billion screenshots of notable frames (twice, since i recently redid all of that).

Nor was spending a week writing a 9000-word summary about the damn thing. Nor was making a Twitter bot that posts clips of every track.

nor was planning an art week for 3 summers in a row, or making a Shuuenpro fan discord server for that I literally will never, ever regret making. and the list kind of goes on. if you also consider the literal tally counter I made to keep track of how many times I mention Shuuen. but even then.

I need to like, devour this 13-year-old now nearly dead-for-10-years abandoned Vocaloid series. Whole. or I need it to swallow me whole instead. It's so important to me, forever. i'll take it with me to the grave, and I know I'm not the only one who feels this way

but I guess it's a little weird for me to say that. I mean, I pour my heart into something I never even got to see when it was alive 😭. getting into shuuen in 2019 felt like visiting the tombstone of someone you didn't even know and trying to find out stuff about them post-mortem.

...not sure how i wanted to end this post! Uhm. thematically fitting when shuuen no shiori itself doesn't have an endiYeah okay goodnight.

[nataliabelok]

i’ve been hyperfixated on specifically eve for almost two years now so i thought i should take it upon myself to try and explain how hope works the best i can. although i fear when writing this it just divulged into hopelena rambling… i know there’s other arrowverse “i got replaced with ai” lore but idgaf so just pretend it doesn’t exist

to me, the point of lena choosing eve as hope isn’t just because she’s angry but also because lena misses working with her. i may be the number one evelena warrior of all time but i think even if you think they are purely platonic this still seems to be the case. eve is really the only person (other than than lex) who lena has been able to work with and truly understand. quotes that come to mind of their relationship being “i let her in and she lied to me” “i know how much she hurt you” clearly they were close… so it makes sense to me that lena would choose her as hope’s vessel

this is important because it is implied that hope is still somewhat alined with eve’s headspace. she has her thoughts and memories and lena implies that some version of eve’s consciousness is still alive (“both hope and eve, gone forever”) so i feel like it’s not totally insane to say that hope is sort of the lovechild of lena and eve’s feelings about each other. she is both of them. she has their love and their hatred and everything

i also think that hope mainly runs off of her directives in a kind of precedence order. even though she has non nocere and is quite literally the personification of it, she still offers to “facilitate” kara’s actual murder because not doing that would good against her more important directive which i assume is to protect and appease lena. as soon as she has a physical form she is full of just wide eyed adoration and physical affection. hope is full of love and lena is her sun. she’s literally all she has. she has never been to costco. her entire existence is dead set on making lena happy and all she has from eve’s life is her obsession with her and the pain of being alone again after her betrayal… lena repeatedly talks about how she’s programmed with no inherent biases but obviously that’s a lie because she shows them over and over again

and the thing about lena being all that hope has. it goes the other way too. lena has lost pretty much every significant relationship in her life in the last week. she only has hope (ironically). and if i thought eve was chosen as the vessel only for malicious reasons i wouldn’t really assume that she would treat or look at her like that. lena only treats hope with love and mentions constantly how much she enjoys having her around (“your partnership has meant the world to me, hope”, “it be short-sided to lose you now”). i don’t think her anti-eve bias is very active here

i think that hope is a very broken down, condensed version of eve. people can only stomach the real eve if she’s amicable and sweet and does what they want. the minute they get the actual real eve they don’t want it. so after like a 3 hour session of gaslighting to figure out where hope should end up, it’s not shocking to me that she is quite literally the epitome of her desirable features. still, i think a part of the way the she interacts with lena still exemplifies her obsessive personality and carries some of her thoughts and feelings for lena, if not just sweetened a bit (“i believe in you. eve did, too.”, “i wish there was more i could do for you, ms. luthor”). she’s equally insane but lena just looks over it because she’s insane for her.

anyways idk if i actually talked about anything i meant to talk about so maybe a part two later

give me your ramblings in the comments or follow me on twitter corvaecorp for an insane amount of eve tessmacher content

[gotta-bail-my-quails]

Tags masterpost

i tend to shove everything onto one blog so this post's gonna be pinned so anyone new can just block what they don't want clogging their dash or look things up if you wanna do that for whatever reason (mostly in order of how many posts that tag currently has in my blog archive--not necessarily what I'm currently posting most about)

cat/cats/pretty kitty - self explanatory, it's just cat posts

cool art - also self explanatory (but has more overlap with fandom than the next tag)

for reference/reference for later - really cool art + medical, writing, and tech advice posts + writing/drawing ideas

lol/lmao - uh...just stuff i find funny?

free palestine - posts in support of a free Palestine! (zionists fuck off)

important - activist stuff + more medical/writing/tech advice posts/PSAs

us politics - because not everyone lives in/wants to hear the latest shitshow going on (might add a more general politics tag for non-US stuff later)

pretty pic/cool pic - photographs i like (btw if anything I ever reblog is AI, please tell me so I can get that shit off my blog! <3)

my art - art I've made!

quail's wails - random personal ramblings

now for the fandom stuff...I won't add any tags for fandoms I have less than 15 posts in since most of those are ones I am no longer in (for instance, I haven't been into the dsmp since like, forever, so I've just deleted/privated the posts; also, in light of the not so recent news about Neil Gaiman, I probably won't post anything from the Sandman/Good Omens anymore although I respect the latter as also being sir Terry Pratchett's work--I will therefore not be adding it to the masterpost although the posts will still be in the archive)

sheer art attack - (riffing off of the Queen song lmao) art I really, really wanna look at again. and again. and again. and which might also give me an actual sheer heart attack

RSP - (regularly scheduled program post) queue tag

Original content (i.e. posted by me) won't be tagged with the '[media name] shtick' thing I've got going on--it'll use the regular tags you'd expect. Content reblogged from others will be tagged with the shtick scheme ONLY, but I'll likely change that to use my own tags on all fandom content both mine and others'.

fandom shtick - all fandom posts

loki shtick - both marvel loki and general mythological loki (haven't rb'd anything loki in over a year though)

dislyte/dislyte shtick - for the game dislyte

dislyte toland - specifically for the character Toland from dislyte who I'm obsessed with

iruma shtick/mairimashita! iruma kun/m!ik - for the manga/anime "Welcome to demon school! Iruma-kun"

moriarty shtick - for the manga/anime "Moriarty the Patriot"/"Yuukoku no Moriarty"

ddd shtick/dandadan - for the manga/anime "Dan Da Dan"

sxf shtick - for the manga/anime "Spy x Family"

tbhx/to be hero x/tbhx shtick/tbhx art - for the donghua "To Be Hero X" (what i'm currently posting most about)

💯 au - my personal tag for the ship civilian X/top 10 from "To Be Hero X"

homexwreck - my personal tag for the Nice/Wreck ship from "To Be Hero X"

hxh shtick - for the manga/anime "Hunter X Hunter"

apothecary shtick - for the manga/anime "Apothecary Diaries"

i'm 95% certain I have more fandoms somewhere buried in there but tumblr won't show me them so I guess they're lost to the depths of my blog now whoops