#dol imagines

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.

His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.

“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”

You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.

“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”

It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”

It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”

Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands  graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”

“I need to— You said I could go—”

“Just give me another minute, darling.”

His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.

“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”

[esthercore]

Everyone has different ways of learning productively, and can form some weird tricks for themself way above in adulthood, so what yours happened to be with your professor's dick buried deep inside you after class, with his arms around your waist, as he nuzzle in the crook of your neck as you solve some equations, it's purely for education purposes, totally professional here!

(HSR) Dr Ratio; (GI) Al Haitham, Dottore; (DOL) Leighton, Mason, Sirris [ik Al haitham isn't an actual professor but take it as an au!!]

[eh-nonnie-mouse]

My brain is on fire and overheating with ideas. So let's pop this one out so I can get back to the fics that have been languishing for months.

(Disclaimer, I'm not up to date on the fucking lore or all the characters for this game. So I am probably in OOC non cannon territory but let me play in the sandbox.)

What if... Some of the LIs become one of the named NPCs after reborn/reincarnating PC after they die by the hands of the Ivory Wraith.

For example, Bailey is Robin just grown up and super jaded, needing to control every aspect of his life, so he controls the town. Whitney is Eden getting tired of trying to be something of an alpha dog around town and getting upsurped by Robin in the end. Kylar becomes Harper where he can use his knowledge of science (drugs?) for his own benefit [though he could fit with Eden too]. Sydney either becomes Jordan (if pure) or Sirris (if corrupted) and preaches whichever he thinks will heal himself. Either way, they're all mourning and obsessive in their own way that I don't have the energy to expand on right now. Probably way off on personalities but like Ivory Wraith has history with PCs soul and it just made me think of weird reincarnation stuff.

[chocolatte-and-despair]

Girly please drop a small headcanons for female pc and male plssss in degrees of lewidy 😭😭😭

Warning: 18+ content

Male PC - Matthew

Matthew is a protective high awareness and exhibitionism character. There are a few scenarios that I imagine you would catch the eye of Matthew.

The first would be if you're in a similar situation as Robin. Unable to pay Bailey, and are friends with Matthew. He will extend the offer of taking your debt too, like he did to Robin. In this route, Matthew might use the guilt you feel for wringing him dry of his money to get sexual favors. If you have a high level of love with him, he might gently coerce you into dating him.

Matthew can be quite pushy and put ideas in your mind that you originally might not even consider.

If you're a stubborn person or have a high defiance level, Matthew might try to change up his approach, instead of making you pity him. He would probably set up an assault on him so you would see it, and save him, or have you walk up on him while Whitney is bullying him.

Matthew doesn't care how he will catch your eye, as long as you end up comfortably warming his bed, as he knows that you're safe in his arms.

Now, if you headcanon your character to not be from the orphanage, then a high defiant or sadism character might catch the eye of Matthew.

Seeing you fight off people trying to assault you, or standing up to bullies harassing Robin or Kyler shows him that maybe you're just like him and he approaches you to befriend you.

In such a scenario, you are equal to him, and he pulls you into his plans to ask Kyler to add the pepper spray lab in the orphanage which might bring you around to cause trouble, and help others.

Matthew doesn't see you as a damsel in distress in this route, nor does he try to play as one. The two of you are equals in every day: partners in crime. It wouldn't be too far-fetched if you two became just partners, no?

Female PC - Lucie

Lucie is a high physique and beauty character. She was naturally a gifted student and attracted the eye of too many people for her comfort, so she worked hard to become the type that could put people in their places when someone harasses her.

She's not as kind as Matthew, having experienced sexual harassment from a younger age than Matthew, yet that made her have a higher willpower than Matthew.

Chances are that she met you either as a coworker at the strip club.

Lucie has a high level purity, so it's strange that she works at the strip club, but Darryl is one of the only normal bosses around, besides Alex, so she decided to brave that shitty workplace, just for a chance to have a normal boss.

She met you, as you were one of the dancers and the two of you bonded almost immediately over your hatred for this shit town, and dreams of one day leaving.

Lucie doesn't trust many, but you were one of those people that she would sleep next to without fear. She even started walking you home after your shifts, just to be sure you get home fine.

The romance grows slowly, but when she finally realizes that you're just more than a trusted friend in her mind, she's conflicted. One part of her wonders if she's just like every other freak in this town, or if she really loves you.

It all probably culminates into an aggressive confession, as she slams you into the wall behind the strip club and confesses that you've been driving her crazy.

No matter if you accept her or decline her, from the moment she accepted her feelings for you, she becomes an unmovable wall that stands between you and anyone who might mean you harm - or try to romance you.

Dating or not, in her mind, you are something precious she won't let anyone sully.

[yandere-sins]

Ever so often I go back to play some DoL and in my new run I got a bit more interested in our lovely school bully, so I looked them up and spoilered myself found some things out that inspired me to write about them ♥

Isn't it so cute when the bully starts to care a bit more about their victims than they should?

Characters: Male!Whitney (Degrees of Lewdity) x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con, Public Sex, Derogatory Nicknames, Creampie, Fear of Pregnancy, Humiliation, Non-Consensual Picture Taking) Bullying, Posessiveness, Mental Struggles, Threats

Sobbing, you clung to him as his cock pounded into you. Merciless and without much thought to your obvious state of distress, Whitney abused your hole, grunting as he caved it out even though you had pleaded with him not to. Not like he had ever listened to you before, but you wondered if there was ever a "too much" in his books, your hopes silently shattering as you bit back a moan from escaping.

Giggles and mean comments rained down on you from the sidelines, phone shutters going off, the sound deliberately turned on so you would hear it. The embarrassment was like a cloud of heat, cooking you from the inside out and blurring your judgment. You wanted to struggle, but every bit of movement would make your body more visible, even though you wanted to hide it away more than anything. Your legs were held apart by the ankles, giving you very little support as Whitney pushed into you recklessly, but they kept you in place enough that his cock wouldn't slip out.

All while the onlookers took videos from below.

You knew better than to make more of a fool out of yourself than you already were to these bullies. They wouldn't listen to your pleas, and your screams fell on deaf ears around the almost empty school. Although you could try fighting, who were you kidding? Whitney wasn't known to be a weakling. It wasn't the first time you had to deal with him and the humiliation, but no amount of repetition made the crime less severe.

Letting out a loud sniffle, you buried your face in his chest, his grunts breaking for one push, and you felt one of his arms snake around your back as he grew even more eager. It was no embrace that could comfort you, but at least he didn't force you to face the cameras and make your expression a public amusement and the next best blackmail material.

"Hey, Whitney! Stop hoggin' them! We all want some of the fun!" some student called out, gripping your bully by the shoulder. With surprising ferocity, Whitney twisted his body around, slapping the hand away while pulling you tighter against his body.

"Fuck off!" he hissed as the student tumbled and crashed into the tables. "Y'all can get lost, you're not getting your dicks wet today!"

His movements halted while he was occupied with the groans and shouts of his peers, needing to keep them in check as they crowded close, calling him 'unfair' and a killjoy. He bit back just as aggressively, and more embarrassment flared up inside you as people got closer.

Scared, you clung to him, fingers buried in the shirt on his back, and with your legs being released, you clasped them tightly around his hips. Your pussy clenched around his cock, and Whitney hissed, the voices of the other students briefly stopping before they rose up in laughter.

"Seems like our good pal got hitched!"

"Pussy-drunk bastard!"

"Man, this is no fun. Let's go somewhere else."

Sighs turned into small talk, into discussions about where to have dinner, until all your bullies had crowded out of the room, leaving only you and Whitney behind. It was fascinating how quickly they could change their interest, how little all of this truly meant to them while the trauma clung heavily to you.

"Urgh," Whitney groaned, leaning forward until your back hit the top of the table. "Why are you sticking so close to me? Stop being a fucking leech."

"S-Sorry..."

Within seconds, Whitney had snapped his hips back against yours, burying his cock deep inside, and you grunted in response, covering your mouth to hold back the moans.

"You're really getting on my nerves—stop that!"

Tearing your hand away, Whitney pinned it to the table, leaving you defenseless. His other hand gripped the edge of the wood, giving him the leverage to pound into you, spreading your walls far apart while messing with your insides.

"Why..." you mumbled, breathless. "Why did you stop them?"

"The fuck kinda question is that? You want them to fuck you? I can call them back if that's—"

"N-No! Please don't..."

His lips curled into a mean grin as he stared down at you, eyes moving from yours to your lips, to your breasts jiggling beneath. "You owe me now, big time," he grinned, and you felt a knot form in your stomach.

Reaching down, Whitney gripped one of your thighs, lifting it higher for better access before his pace quickened. "You're so fucking done," he grunted. "I'll make your life hell, and you'll love every second of it. That'll teach you not to question me."

"S-Sorry! I just wanted to know!"

Months of bullying had worn down your defenses, and you should have known better. But Whitney had never been one to show you any mercy before, so curiosity had gotten the better of you. And like an idiot, you had fallen into his trap again.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt another knot form in your stomach, this one much more frightening than the one before. You didn't want to come from this, didn't want to give him the satisfaction of making you come. Still, every time he pushed into you, you felt closer to that edge, toes curling. At the same time, you listened to the embarrassing sound of your pussy squelching. Whitney, too, sounded close, not afraid to let out his voice as he dug inside, fulfilling his desires primarily.

In the truest sense of the word, you two crashed hard as Whitney leaned down, lips smashing into yours as both moans collided pitifully. His hips still jerked a few times, and you gasped as you felt the hot mess he spilled inside you, fearing the worst. You absolutely couldn't get pregnant by him—what kind of sick nightmare would that have been?—but even as you tried to push him away, ramming your knees into his chest, he wouldn't budge. Usually, things ended after humiliating you, but with no one around, apparently, Whitney didn't think it was necessary to sully your face or body, leaving his cum inside you without a second thought.

"N-No!" you mewled into his savage kiss, but Whitney only grinned, rocking the table until it tilted back, forcing you to wrap your legs around his and your arms around his neck to not slip off the surface and hurt yourself. Though with this, escaping was pretty much impossible, and despite your panic, your body filled up nicely with his cum, taking every spurt he gave.

"Fuckin' hell," Whitney complained when he finally released you from the kiss, setting down the table and wiping his mouth. He looked down at you with the same condescending gaze as usual, and you wondered how pitiful you must have looked in those dark eyes of his. "You need to take classes on how to kiss, you fucking suck."

"S-Sorry," you sobbed, feeling the deliberate slow pull of Whitney as he freed his cock from your pussy, popping it out after wiping it thoroughly against your walls. Giving your left thigh a slap, he let them both drop uncaringly as he stepped back, moving his cock back into his pants and underwear and zipping it up.

"Get dressed, slut," he ordered, nodding his head in the direction of your discarded panties and skirt, and you slowly got up from your position, waddling over to your clothes with shaking knees. It didn't take a moment longer than you had pulled them up when you felt Whitney's warmth at your back, his hands snaking around your body and towards the zipper of your skirt. You held your breath as you listened to the sound of him zipping you up, giving you back some line of defense now with your clothes on.

"Just so we're clear, you're not just anyone's little plaything. Those buffoons don't get to enjoy you unless I give them permission. And today..."

You looked up at him as his hand fell to your throat, squeezing it in an attention-demanding grip. Whitney's dilated pupils searched for your gaze, locking onto it with a ferocity that made your legs quiver, a small whimper escaping you as he tightened his grip around your throat threateningly.

"Today, I really didn't feel like sharing."

Lowering his mouth to yours, Whitney nipped your lower lip with his teeth, prompting yours to part so he could stick his tongue inside. For someone who claimed he didn't enjoy your amateur kissing, you two stayed like this for a while, breaths heating up between you as the intensity rose. His eyes never strayed from you, capturing them, forcing you to look at him, and making sure your thoughts wouldn't stray from what he was doing. Whitney wanted these moments to be burned into your soul, the utmost cruelty he could muster, always making you remember the things he did to you.

With his hand positioned as it was, you didn't dare challenge him to squeeze harder, allowing him to ravage your mouth, his other hand falling on top of your skirt, cramming it up to grab your asscheek hard. The sudden pain of his palm hitting your skin made you jolt, and you whimpered into the kiss, Whitney finally pulling away. You felt your underwear damping as fluids leaked from your pussy, wetness coating your inner thighs as you were reminded of Whitney's claim on you.

"Seriously, get good," he mumbled as he pushed you aside, wiping his mouth from the excess drool you two had produced. "Next time, you'll need that sucky mouth of yours."

Passing you by, he smacked your rear once more, laughing as you jumped and hit another desk's edge, more pain flashing through you. However, when you finally got a grip on yourself, you looked up to catch him still watching you from the doorframe, almost as if he was waiting to see if you were okay.

More cum mixed with your juices ran down your legs as you squatted down, picking up your bag and books the bullies had thrown around. "I don't get it," you mumbled quietly, still feeling his gaze at your back.

"Speak up if you got something to say, clown."

Shaking your head, you walked after Whitney, who only huffed at your refusal, walking five steps ahead of you as you two made your way out of school. Something about his behavior was strange, and you had difficulty pinpointing it. But where he usually didn't seem to care about you, he stuck unnecessarily close to you that day.

"Ugh! Finally!" you heard a girl yell once you two reached the school gate. You looked up to see Whitney's clique waiting for him. He split from you and walked to them while you hurriedly marched in the other direction, as far away as possible.

"What is it with them?! Do you like that slut?!" the girl asked, the insults hurled directly at you even though her question was as ridiculous as the whole bullying.

"No," Whitney firmly denied, and for some reason, it made the knot in your stomach twist. You knew that, but it made the situation almost worse.

"But they're mine, so fuck off."

"What!" the girl screeched, and you halted in your tracks, slowly turning around to look at Whitney's back. He kept walking, unbothered by his friend's reaction. The others started to cheer and mock him, but he simply kept walking, his head slowly turning around after a few more steps.

Your eyes met.

You couldn't read his lips well from the side, but his smirk and the gleam in your eyes made you assume a thousand words he could have mimed at that moment.

Only one stuck.

Mine.

[dollya-robinprotector]

Lya the Blossom

Thank you for all your support \(^O^)/

Lya will accompany each order to ensure it will be transported safely and reach the right person who ordered it. Other merch is still in the making!

Huge thanks to Vy (@writer-and-artist27) and Mata Hari from FGO Salem manga for the inspiration. I just loveeeee dancing beauties.

[yet-another-haven-of-dollya]

Welp getting this out of my system

[fujoshoid]

bad bitchney… he would look good in anything i think

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - stalking, unhealthy relationships, mentions of masturbation, obsessive behavior, and medical malpractice galore.

Harper is the kind of man who can't help but study what he loves.

It's a bad habit - an unfortunate combination of natural curiosity and burning academic passion that always seems to end with a mess and a few broken toys. A childhood fascination with insects might lead to shoeboxes full of tattered wings and twitching bodies. A passing interest in hemogobular coagulation would be poured into a university internship that gave him access to more pints of blood than he knew what to do with, despite his best attempts to put it all to good use. A lasting fondness for hypnosis could, theoretically, earn him a small collection of pocket watches, a soothing timbre that often played underneath his passive speaking voice, and a few asylum patients too far gone to ever truly recover.

His research wasn't always destructive, but it could be. His love tended to veer towards obsession; the kind of burning infatuations that could leave more than a little devastation in its wake, if he wasn't careful. A measured amount of collateral damage was acceptable, compared to the alternative.

He studies you, too. Idly, at first - nothing more than an intrusive thought allowed to fester during your all-too-infrequent appointments, a quick jolt of excitement when he noticed your name on his schedule - then more consciously, in the form of an extra question asked at the very end of his time with you, a note tacked onto your file that doesn't strictly have to do with your health. His chances for observation are limited. You rarely make it to your therapy sessions, no matter how often he insists you should see him, and you're sturdier than he'd like, too used to being thrown around and mistreated to come running to him every time you scrape your knees. That's something he decides he doesn't like about you fairly early on. Part of a case study is deciding which parts of your subject will need to be adapted, and even you aren't beyond correction.

He records your reactions to his mis-prescribed medication with a religious sort of zealousness, reviews your symptoms and lab results while fucking his fist in-time with your pulse. He makes sure to visit your bedside personally whenever you find your way into his emergency room, and you're rewarded for your newfound attentiveness with a healthy supply of shots that leave you too removed from reality to remember your time on his examination table. Harper's always preferred the written word, but he find himself with a budding appreciation for film during his nightly evaluation of your records. His memory is keen enough, but there's nothing quite like being able to study your body detail by detail whenever he isn't fortunate enough to have access to the real thing.

He thinks, as he watches a pair of his nurses drag you through the asylum doors, that it might be time to start the next leg of his study. Studying is useful, but you've always benefited from more proactive measures, more personal attention. It'd be a discredit to his occupation if he was too preoccupied with his own little pleasures to see to the needs of his favorite patient.

It's far past time he moved on to more hands-on research methods, when it comes to you.

[dolskele]

Taller/intimidating Kylar!

I think they'd b more of a menace around school (and an even bigger problem) since no one would have the balls to bully them (besides Whitney lol)

Also the thought of them manhandling PC is just 🫡🫡🫡🫡

[eh-nonnie-mouse]

I am not your salvation - DOL RAMBLE

In the throes of lust, Sydney will babble and moan that she made him into who he is. And that's true to a certain extent. She stole his first kiss, encouraged him to push the boundaries, became the angle he so wanted to see her as. He won’t remember how he becomes the devil between her legs, her sinful Sydney will never quite have as clear of memories on that hallowed ground as she does.

The town wouldn’t have it any other way.

But he also bears responsibility for making her who she is. He never remembers of course. In another lifetime. In another world, they would have been pure, chaste and absolutely devoted to each other. To be bound together under the church's all-seeing eyes. Until, the Ivory Wraith showed her the truth.

Every truth and all that's between.

It felt like waking up from a dream. Her old life was not perfect, terror constantly nipped at her heels, lechers at every turn. A loop that she can’t seem to escape. When the old perv tries to touch her this time, she bloodies her pristine white dress with his blood. For a split second she almost regrets it. Terror wells up in her throat, threating to choke her, panic claws at her stomach but the man runs. As his back grows smaller, her terror subsides into a giggling hysteria.

Instead of breaking down into the weak, sniveling, child she wants to be, she lets her old life, her old self, Luci The Light, The Untouched, The Unburdened; die her pathetic death. Under the spray of the creaking pipes of the old shower, she ruthlessly drowns herself in her own tears. There was no divine salvation, no mercy and no one who will remember the sweet Angel she used to be.

She curses the monster in the lake, vowing to cling to life, to fight and claw her way to her own happiness. When she gets back to her room, she renames herself and is reborn as Syf The Sinner, The Seductress, The Tainted.

This time she will take what she wants with both hands and never let him go. She will become his beacon and angel just to show him the filthiest of sin. Let him defile her and break her wings with tear-stained face and a wretched smile on her lips. To tear away the veil that the Temple casts over his eyes.

[monay-monn]

I think we as a society dont talk about Sydney's repressed memories enough

granted its not super in your face obvious (and i hope it gets explored/expanded on more) but the way that puri has said that whatever happened to sydney's other parent is the reason why he got sent to the asylum and why he was so innocent when we first meet him absolutely breaks me

theres so much angst potential there already. When he sings the song to comfort pc whenever she breaks down, he says he learned it from Jordan, and vrel has confirmed that Jordan learned it from Sydney's other parent. Did their parent never sing it back to him? Or did they completely block out their other parent in their memories.

They never seem to mention their other parent all that much, does he even still retain any memories associated with them? Do they still remember what they look like? Or is everything to do with them now just a hazy memory

Do they feel guilt for no longer remembering? Does it eat up at them? Or do they purposely try to forget, never wanting any of them to ever surface anymore

brought to you by:

[dollya-robinprotector]

Honestly my head canon for Whitney is that when he feels something that doesn't make him feel dead inside (pc) he freaks out. So his bullying is somehow apn attempt to control pc and an attempt to keep them away. Because if he can't control them, they will eventually leave him, so he needs to get rid of you first. Like the dude is an emotional mess, scared of any good emotions.

Imagine what a mess he is after waking up and realizing that PC rescued his sorry ass from the UB...

[remireee]

Bored like me

" And so we sit here; and talk in circles, pointed politeness; 'til we turn purple, oh really, can we cut it all and break the walls, and talk like we've been married forty years? "

˚ʚ kylar x gn! reader

˚ʚ tw: mentions of captivity

a short one that poured over when I was listening to this song o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

Kylar snapping at you for not reciprocating his affection after he kidnapped you.

Hands shakily clutching at your collar and shoving your face against his as he chews you out, days of pent up restlessness spilling over like a knocked over glass.

"Why don't you get it? I'm doing this because I LOVE YOU - me feeding you, loving you... THIS IS ALL FOR YOU! AM I NOT ENOUGH? Or... are you just that greedy, you fucking s-"

Emerald eyes widened before he could even mutter that insensitive slur to your face. No... no, no, no- he could never, he would never describe you with such a phrase, you were above it, you were above it all. How could he ever make the mistake of ever referring you to such?

"...I'm sorry... sorry... sorry- sorrysorrysorry-"

Cheeks stained with tears as he weeps into the crooks of your shoulder, hands long released your collar from his grasp, now frail arms were wrapped around your neck as he mumbled incoherent apologies, oblivious the obvious struggle you were putting up while still being strapped to the creaky old wooden chair.

Cracked lips trailed light, fluttery kisses along your nape, fingers tracing circles around your back as he sighed.

"I'm so sorry, angel... I didn't know what got over me... I didn't mean to say those things to you... I didn't mean any of it... I understand, you're still new to all this... I get it... I should be more patient... thanks for teaching me that... I promise I'll try better next time... so, forgive me... please...?"

[softmangoes]

my favorite ivory wraith headcanon that i have is that after every time it lures you to its lair during each blood moon, it slips a piece of lake glass into your palm. they're small, frosted by the tide, and they feel so nice when your fingertips smooth over them. the wraith cannot touch you once the dawn breaks the sky, but they're so lovely when the morning light hits them. they're like gems, like something precious, like droplets suspended in time.

in the end, they are nothing else but a memento: a simple reminder that your dreams of its adoration were never dreams to begin with.

[shuuen-no-cimory]

Taking some breaks from my works by sketched this concept. I miss drawing PJM x DoL IVORY WRAITH E.G.O. "The Forlorn" HE (Gloom) - Sydney WAW (Wrath) - Kylar EDIT: FOUND MY OLD NOTE ABOUT THE EGO!!! So anyway, the EGO's name supposed to be "The Forlorn", but I forget so... yeah... lol.

About the EGO:

As an EGO, it has a special gimmick trait called "Blood Moon" Unique Sinking. It'll drain enemies SP by x each turns (for 3 turns)

[SYDNEY - THE FORLORN (Gloom)] For Sydney, the Forlorn gonna be HE with Blunt ST and "Blood Moon" trait. Will become AoE (Attack Weight 3) on Corrosion.

UT3 will gain Heal 3 ally's SP with the least SP, UT4 gonna give additional SP Drain from Blood Moon.

[KYLAR - THE FORLORN (Wrath)] For Kylar, the Forlorn will be WAW with Pierce Attack Weight 4. It'll have "Blood Moon" trait. Will become AoE with Attack Weight 6 on Corrosion.

UT3 will gain "Blood Moon - Haunting" which additionally inflict Bind x for 3 turn on the enemy.

UT4 will make "Blood Moon - Haunting" has additional affect on enemies with less than 0 SP, which give additional Bleed x for 3 bleed count.