"Tears In The Rain"

"Tears in the rain"

"On my knees, head weighed down; this is how you left me, crying on the ground. 'Please don't go', was all my heart ached to say; but before I turned, you had already walked away"

Whitney Theory Time

[CW- talks about mental health, child neglect, random character analysis and unnecessary deep diving into little details (lol)]

I went down a little rabbit hole pertaining to Whitney’s oral fixation. I have known that when something is brought attention to constantly during any story, then it’s not a simple coincidence. I feel like (how Sydney said in the library) that Whitney has a lot going on. And it’s probably not good. I feel like their back story will be very angsty and sad.

So as someone who has studied psychology for a while, I found this…and I feel like I hit the nail on the head (for those morbidly curious like me this is Freud’s theory on oral fixation…and yeah don’t judge me for going all Freudian analysis on Whitney/silly)

So chances of our Whit being a neglected child are very high. But from their general appearance in the game (m!whitney wearing a blazer and f!whitney wearing a long school skirt. Both items are on the costlier side in game) I feel like they come from a well off family? the general hate towards the privileged people they hold, points to either them living a life of privilege but they are so miserable they want to escape? (Tbh their whole schtick sometimes gives rich kid doing all kinds of weird stuff trying to get attention from their absentee parents trope)

Or maybe used to be a part of a well off family? I feel like they are not being able to cope with the sudden change in their lifestyle if this is the case. Thus are trying to sell this fearless image of themselves.

And Is it just me or do you find it weird too that although Whitney is sent to detention Leighton almost never does anything to Whitney besides scolding? I feel like they do come from a powerful background. Otherwise why would all these lackeys follow them around?! And they own a phone to top it all off. I know all the other NNPCs have a phone too but amongst the LIs only Whitney (and Avery) owns a phone?!

The lowkey neurotic and manic tendencies they have towards PC also screams of separation anxiety. (Ahem collection of stuff toys?) For example, them needing to control PC at all times. Their love stat going high only when PC willingly chooses to act on their every whimsical/cruel wishes, them wanting to tattoo their name on PCs face of all places, not being able to be more open/ vulnerable with PC because they feel that PC might leave them.

And their dismissal event also shows just how much their image matters to them, and why they crave to be in control. This is yet another trait they share with Avery, when on low dominance, you can see how humiliated they get whenever PC fights back with them. Add insecurity about looks on top and viola, you have some deep childhood issues (I love complex fully fleshed characters so much)

Also the not being sufficiently fed during nursing part (I’m referring to the picture above) makes me think that the Headcanon about their parents being divorced and maybe their mom moving out at a very young age, seems like a possibility. Hence Whitney not being able to withstand emotional cheating seems like a result of that (I’m just spitballing here…)

So yeah. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. I feel good after hyperfixating about a fictional character.

[Bonus Angst Headcanon] I like to imagine, if it indeed turns out that Whitney lives in some mansion with their dad, and their mom left when they were young, why do I get a feeling that their mom left them/ said goodbye to them near the water fountain on a rainy day. Them just staring into the fountain with a solemn mood, feels like there is a definite reason behind it. Or maybe they used to come to the fountain and make wishes with their mom? (Yes I like to torture myself with sad thoughts)

Your door slams open. It’s Bailey

Him after snatching money from my PC…“Alexa play Money by Lisa💅”

Prism

If I were to give a color to my emotions they would be white. Blindingly white. The all consuming white, that holds the green of envy, the blue of sadness and the red of anger. The pink of my love hides shyly under the black of my fears. They lay dormant under the plainness of white. Yet the only one capable of bringing them out is you. Holding the prism of my heart in your hands. And watching me break apart like a rainbow in your palm.

Yandere! Business man x Fem! Reader Word count- 1409 (proofread) [CW- stalking, obsessive behaviour, mild abuse insinuated, abduction, insinuated noncon acts,Stockholm syndrome]

5 Things he HATES about you

“There you are, walking without a care in the world. Hair billowing in the gentle wind like a halo atop your head, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, bunny?

You hum to yourself, the beginning of a sweet song, and it sounds like honey to my ears. Any words that slip from those rosy lips tempt me to taste them. Sigh you have made a besotted fool out of me.

So why do you test me so bunny? When I have been nothing but oh so good to you?!”

I HATE THE WAY YOU MAKE MY HEART RACE~ He had been living a perfectly normal, uneventful life. Going about his daily routine, working, keeping to himself and his eccentric hobbies. But that morning, you had to spill piping hot coffee on him, ruining his tailored suit and mood. His jaw ticked and he looked up at the clumsy menace ready to give them an earful when he felt shaky little hands dabbing at his suit. She blubbered apologies, a flustered whimpering mess, and something in him shifted. The sight of the woman before him, reminded him of something pitiful. Like a small bunny. He dropped a few bills and instantly left the cafe, irritated at the way the coffee clung to his scalded skin. Why had he gone soft? Something definitely had shifted in him, and he soon realized what. His traitorous heart had shifted allegiances, thrumming for a woman it barely knew. This was an inconvenience, and he hated you for it.

I HATE WHEN YOU DON’T LOOK AT ME~ His hands furiously typed at the keyboard of his laptop, eyes trained on the woman fluttering about the cafe with a cheerful smile. Her hands were laden with trays of food and coffee. She made small talk with some customers, greeting the regulars so sweetly like she knew them personally. When she came up to his table, her smile tightened and her eyes dropped to her feet. A smirk sneaked its way on his face at her docile behavior, yet something irked him. ‘Why won’t you look at me the way you look at others?’ Although some petty part of him loved seeing you uncomfortable around him, he couldn’t understand why his hands itched to grab your chin and make you face him properly. ‘Screw the coffee I’d rather drink in the warm pool of those eyes’

WHEN YOU TALK TO HIM? YES, I HATE IT~ Her shift had ended hours ago. Had he got the schedule wrong? No…he had it memorized by now. Your home, every place you went to, some spots that you visited frequently? Yes, those were his favorite haunts too now. So when he hung by the dimly lit alley, and his eyes landed on you having an animated conversation with the guy that you worked with, his fists clenched at his sides. It had been pouring heavily, and here he was soaked to the bone, waiting for his bunny to leave so that he could see you walk home, but what did you do?! You were busy with another guy? See bunny, you should have known better than to talk to other men. Don’t you realize that you are naive and so innocent? They would use you. Stop hurting me and making me mad bunny.

I HATE THE WAY I CAN’T GET YOU OUT OF MY MIND~This has gone on for weeks. He has become a pilgrim visiting the cafe everyday religiously. So much so that even the regulars know better than to occupy the table at the farthest corner, with the best vantage point of the counter. Today is no different either, his eyes are preoccupied with their silent vigil, watching…appreciating, your lithe form moving between the tables delivering order after order. But he has changed. You have changed him. Gone is his need to uphold perfect appearances in crisp three piece suits. Rather these days he is like a foolish boy in love. Not mindful of what he is wearing or where he is. Nothing matters anymore. It’s only you, all you. His employees are worried about him being absent from work. But they don’t realize that if he doesn’t watch you every damn second of the day, he might lose his mind. Hell, he feels his sanity slipping slowly even when he’s near you. It’s not enough. Nothing is enough when it comes to you. Bunny, close doesn’t seem close enough, and THIS HAS GOT TO CHANGE. You’ll be mine and only mine. Soon.

I HATE WHEN YOU TRY TO LEAVE ME~ The ceiling is a little damp with a musty air lingering around the vicinity, due to the barred windows lining the basement. A plush bed sits in the centre of the bleak room, its soft rose colored sheets are a stark contrast to the abysmal grey of the room. The room is silent save for the occasional sob that escaped your mouth. Whenever a tear rolled down your face, it didn’t take a second before he was on you, gently cradling your face, as he wiped the stray tears with a tissue.

“Shhh bunny. It’s okay. Everything’s okay now. There…there” he cooed, his big hands combing through your lush hair, as he sat close to you. Your knees touched and you resisted the urge to flinch when he raised his hands to sweep your hair away from your face and gathered them into a ponytail.

He eyed you wearily as he clicked his tongue, looking at the big red handprint on your cheek. Gently he pressed an ice pack against your swollen skin and soon the ice was replaced by his warm lips. His breath fanned across your face, all mint and whiskey intoxicating you.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” He inquired in a low voice, his strong hands had easily scooped you up and placed you on his lap snaking his arms around you to pull you in an embrace.

But when you shook your head in answer, his hand grabbed your ponytail so tightly that it hurt. Yanking your head back to face him he smiled menacingly, “Did you forget already bunny? I want you to use your words to answer me, and I want you to look at me when I’m talking” he said. The dulcet tone of his warm voice was so soothing, a stark contrast to his vice like grip on your waist and hair.

If you listened closely, you could sense the worry in his voice, the slight tremor in his touches, and the way his eyes never left you. You didn’t want to, but you had started looking forward to the time he came home from work. The way he talked your ear off about the people at his company. The way he bathed and dressed you in the finest of clothes.The way he himself fed you, and asked his chef to cook the food that you especially loved. He had also changed the metal chains to softer bindings once you started to behave nicely. Once he started to trust you.

“I’m sorry bunny…” he said nuzzling your neck. Then turning your face with a slender finger he pressed feather-light kisses to your swollen cheek, muttering an apology after each kiss.

“Don’t make me do this bunny. You were doing so good. We were starting to trust each other didn’t we? What more do you want? I can lay the whole damn world at your feet darling, just say the word.” He laid you down on the bed and curled behind you, holding you close to his chest. You listened to his heartbeat, the sound eerily placating you. He was still wearing his work clothes. All pristine and proper in his three piece suit.

You giggled on the inside thinking only you got to see the madness that lingered behind those angel eyes.

He kissed the top of your head as he hummed a sweet lullaby, and you felt your eyelids droop.

“Sleep bunny. And banish every thought of leaving. You don’t want to see the monster rear its ugly head again, do you? You’ll stay right?” He asked deceivingly sweet.

“Yes”, you muttered, looking at him over your shoulder. A proud smile lit up his face, pointy canines flashing, that made him look boyish and ethereal in the dim lighting.

“Good girl. You’ll learn soon enough, that you’re mine. And there’s no place safer than my arms” he mumbled as the sleep finally overcame your senses.

Random DoL drabble because I’m bored… I just imagined what if Jordan was a LI with the same corruption stat as Sydney. So here it is lol~

CW- Religious themes, it’s sfw but mildly suggestive

Jordan The Priest x GN PC

You are in the Temple. Your hands are loaded with gardening tools as you move in and out of the garden. Your habit is covered in patches of dirt, stray leaves stick to your head and other places. You can feel sweat on your body with the amount of exercise you are getting |++strength +fatigue

As you enter the temple, your shoulder roughly collides with someone making you fall flat on your butt. You feel a sharp twinge of pain, as everything in your grasp is scattered around you |+stress +pain

You look up to see a familiar face loom over you. “I am so sorry, my child” Jordan mutters softly as he bends down and helps you up, lifting you by your arms. “I wasn’t watching where I was going” His long golden hair, slips from the sides of his cowl and tickles your nose. He frantically moves about gathering your scattered items as you dust yourself off.

Jordan smiles at you apologetically as he hands over the items to you, “I apologize again. I see you’re hard at work.” He gives you the items. Your fingers brush slightly. You smirk a little and hold his hand yanking him close to your face. His eyes widen as he stares at you, your faces inches apart, “Thank You” you mutter huskily making his breath hitch |+Arousal +Jordan’s Corruption

“Do-don’t mention it” a flush rises to his face, he stutters as he hastily picks up his book from the ground and walks quickly towards the pews without glancing back.

Its evening. You are at the orphanage at Domus street. You are wrapped in a towel as you move about your room, looking for your journal. After an hour long of futile search, your eyes land on a book with a brown leather binding.

It’s similar to yours, but when you flip it open, the name, “Jordan” rests on the page in neat and elegant cursive handwriting.

A curiosity fills you, and you sit on your bed and begin reading through the pages. Most of it is just mundane stuff, their schedule for everyday, some bookkeeping of temple allowances, and even regular musings. You mindlessly flip the pages, almost in a bored fashion when your eyes land on a very recent entry.

“I don’t understand what is happening these days. I find myself facing a deep precipice. This is wrong. So very wrong. In vain have I tried to cleanse myself of these thoughts. These vice like feelings are eating away at my mind. I can sense it. This darkness is slowly sweeping me in its corrupt hands, and I am willingly walking into its embrace.

I should’ve known you were trouble the moment I saw you drag Sydney into the depths of depravity. Yet I crave for you. I want you to look at me the way you look at them. I want to feel those emotions that feel so foreign to me. I feel alive in so very long a time. I have begun to look forward to the time you sneak up on me when you think I’m not looking. Those fleeting moments have ignited a flame of sorts. So Lord forgive me for I think I have sinned. Because I want to be loved by the sin incarnate”

Your mind swims with possibilities. This is a surprise. You never expected Jordan to reciprocate those feelings. Your heart thuds wildly as you realize something with a start. If you have Jordan’s journal right now, it means that your journal is currently in Jordan’s possession. And it has much more graphic and detailed entries inside it. Your own personal confessional of sorts that always begin with, “Forgive me Jordan, for I have sinned”

It holds several anecdotes about your little crush on the priest. Long paragraphs about the things you’d like to do with him |++ Arousal ++Jordan’s corruption

A lewd warmth fills you, as you think about running into Jordan tomorrow. You feel excited about the situation but it’s too tame to remove the cloud over your mind |-stress

[Silly bonus lols]- You are in the temple garden watering the flowers. You hear some footsteps approaching. It’s Jordan. He doesn’t look you in the eye, as he silently hands you over your journal. You can see his hands trembling a little. A wild tinge of red dusting his cheeks. When you think he’ll leave, he reaches inside his robe and pulls out a bottle. He uncorks it and just like that pours the entire contents all over your head. It seeps through your clothes making you shudder slightly as your habit clings to your body.

“It’s holy water” he mumbles, “You need it”. He leaves you alone in the garden, shivering as he walks back inside |++ Jordan’s corruption