#ivory wraith is great too

[fraternum-momentum]

whats your favorite Li from DoL? 👀

Mine is Kylar,Syndey and the great Hawk (great Hawk new content is *chef kiss*)

Dead to Whitney i say!!

kylar obvv but im also whitney enjoyer sorryyy

[softmangoes]

how the LIs come

18+

pure!sydney buries his face into your chest, lapping at your nipple with a warm tongue. "you're beautiful," he breathes, eyes filled with adoration as he watches you roll your hips. you take him so well and yet, he is taken by you. when you place your hand around his throat, his eyes widen. "beloved," sydney gasps, clutching you as he fills you with the warmth of his worship.

"wonderful." corrupt!sydney's breath is warm against your ear as he rocks his hips into you. one of his hands is busy stroking you, coaxing breathy moans as you fuck yourself against him. your hand braces against the shelf. there are students milling around in the distance. "i can feel you clenching around me," he whispers, pushing himself in deeper. there's a note of fanaticism to his voice, an obsessiveness in his embrace that threatens to drive you over the edge. it takes all of your strength not to keen. thankfully, his fingers, so soft and smooth, slip into your mouth. "but we wouldn't want the others to know that, do we?"

"so fucking whiney," whitney curses, taking your hair in his fist as he fucks you against the desk. "you've been waiting for this, haven't you?" he sinks his teeth into your skin, rakes his nails across your hips as he comes. whitney is selfish, but his marks burn in a way you can't resist. he doesn't wait for you to adjust yourself and pulls up his trousers. you hear him fasten his belt. "better clean yourself up before the break's over."

kylar whines. he can't help it. all week, he's been saving himself for you, palming his groin whenever it got too unbearable, all because he wanted to fill you up once you were back in his arms. "you look so beautiful like this," he gasps against your neck, rutting into you with jerky, desperate thrusts. "you'll, hah, take everything that i can give you, right?"

there's a grumble that builds within eden's throat - part growl, part rolling of thunder as his hips meet yours. "you're mine," he says gruffly, his tongue licking a hot stripe along your neck. the hunter has you pinned. his massive body cages you in while he thrusts, cock twitching inside of you as he smashes his mouth against yours to swallow your moans. when he pulls away, he licks his teeth, admiring your sweat-slicked skin as his release leaks out of you. what a sight he is, your hunter. what a feast you are, his prey. "don't you ever forget that."

"we have to be quiet," robin muffles his moans by pressing his mouth against yours. he's got you in his lap, arms wrapped around your body as he thrusts. just a few minutes ago, he had been playing video games. now, his hands are occupied, sculpting your sides. your back. when you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull, he lets out a needy whine that you silence by taking his lips between your teeth.

ivory wraith hums, a sonorous thrum that vibrates the very marrow of your bones. when his pleasure crests, it is the surge of the current. the coiling of a great and powerful tide that washes over you, drowning you as he swells. "droplet," he sighs, pressing a cold kiss to your temple. the specter's embrace is gentle yet possessive, his caress carrying the promise of adoring you during this lifetime and a thousand more. "may we never part again."

[heykaya]

Ivory Wraith lines about Love Interests

Extracted from the game’s code (17th October 2024)

Sydney's one is pretty long, so it's on a separate post (here).

Robin:

Little nothing.

The wing-clipped are better smothered.

How far would you go? How far can you run?

You've built your cage, songbird. Lie in it.

(If Robin’s trauma is more than 20)

I'm sorry that you put your trust in him/her*.

*(referring to the player)

(If Robin has fully crossdressed)

New skin. Same sin.

Whitney:

Tormentor.

Drown in smoke. Drown in flame.

A suit of armour made of bodies. They're not here now

(If you have rescued Whitney from being dismissed)

Betrayed by your worst enemy. Do you love him/her*?

*(referring to the player)

Eden:

Eden...

So much left unsaid.

If you could take me with you...

You never should have stopped running.

Like a long lost friend you never knew.

You'll never be far enough. It never leaves.

(If player has Stockholm Syndrome: Eden)

You found a home, in collar and chains.

Avery:

Not all stains wash out.

Money. Material. Meaningless noise.

You still wouldn't be able to afford it.

(If High Rage Avery)

Wine mixes with blood, shed from the glass shattered.

Alex:

You would be nothing.

One of thirteen. Indistinguishable.

Water down your mind, until you destroy all you love.

(If Remy’s Encroachment is more than 60)

The locusts will have a new feast.

Kylar:

Child of monsters.

You've seen it, too.

A shadow, just as faithless.

Were your grip a little stronger.

Blistering emerald green, blinding the world. Such is your envy.

(If Ivory Wraith’s offspring is dead or sold)

You failed them. You failed us.

(If player has Stockholm Syndrome: Kylar)

Longing, belonging.

Black Wolf:

Wait your turn.

The howl, too, drips with red.

Dare to hunt. Be made to heel.

(If player becomes the leader of the wolf pack)

Bite the hand that feeds.

Great Hawk:

Wise to fear your reflection.

An untended egg never hatches.

Fly to the sun or sink in the mud.

The song never stopped. Did it ever begin?

(If Player can fly from the Harpy Transformation)

Count the feathers. Uncountable feathers.

Degrees of Lewdity - Text Based Masterpost

[orangeave]

all the places light does not touch

wednesday addams x gn!reader

summary: there are places in wednesday that the light doesn’t touch and she can’t help but to put you in all of them.

words: 4.2k

orange speaks: final part to the great war (part one | part two). damn, it's been a hot minute, huh? apologies for the wait, but i hope y'all will enjoy this last installment.

Gravesoil clings to Wednesday’s nail beds, a desperate plea scratching against her vocal cords that she will never admit to beyond this moment. You are mumbling to yourself, a language she’s never heard of slicing through the quiet; the mother tongue of the beast that lingers in places she cannot reach nor see. Wild, bloodshot eyes survey the empty space in front of you and veins crowd underneath your lashes. There’s a pause before you hunch over, hands reaching up to grasp tightly at your head and – 

Wings ripple out of tearing flesh, blood soaking the floor underneath her former lover’s feet. An ominous, onyx liquid takes over the whites of your eyes, dripping slowly down the apple of your cheeks and leaving dark tear tracks in their wake that trail pass a shuddering throat. 

How foolish she was to forget what lays dormant beneath your skin, waiting to unleash itself upon the world. Control was hard fought and just barely won after each battle, a traumatic fear for the possibility of a blood-curdling outcome hardening the usual soft color of your gaze. 

Wednesday had always been there to placate the darker side of you but times were different now. The consequences of her wrongdoings were forming; in the shape of elongating teeth, in downy feathers expanding to three-times the length of your arm span, and in horns spiralling to reach the sky above them.  

You were horrifyingly marvellous. 

Gone is the fear from before, an innately evil force hunkering down to take its place. Tendrils of hellfire coat your skin in a blaze of heat that Wednesday can starkly feel, wraiths rising from the puddles of crimson ichor that is still shedding and staining ghoulish flesh. A sinister grin warps your features into a gruesome mosaic and she is wary of the scheming tug to your lips.

“Do you feel it?” You rasp, multiple layers of cadence making your voice echo and overlap into something otherworldly. Wednesday’s brows pinch, a frown of incomprehension downturning the corner of her lips. “The inevitable culling of this night, can you feel it?”

“Enough. You’re talking nonsense.” She sneers.

A shiver caresses the curve of her spine when you sigh solemnly in return, the ground trembling beneath your feet as you glide closer to her. Your left hand lifts and fingertips that resemble claws leave behind rivers of blood as you skim her jawline, thumb tucking into her jugular before the entirety of the extremity encloses around her throat. 

The touch is light, there’s no weight in the action but Wednesday chokes all the same. A primal instinct of survival urges her to fight the hold because while running has never been in Wednesday’s repertoire, the need for bodily autonomy will always remain. Personal space is sacred when the world longs to claim and taint everything she’s ever come to own.

Nero; a first companion forcibly taken by the will of another. 

Tyler; a first kiss lost to the lips of a monster. 

You; a first something she’s afraid to name with an end she’s yet to come to terms with.

Each one is a death with its own cause and reaction but they all drive her further away into solitude, into a body built too big for her bones.

There’s a light within her that flickers and spiders which crawl from crevices dug into ivory calcium, seeking the warmth that it offers – it never lasts, they scurry with every faltering glow and Wednesday is left with the echo of an ancestor, of a destiny meant to be spent alone.

Be it by her hand or someone else’s, the truth of her fate lingers. 

Still, the scraps from the before she seldom acknowledges; when words meant to burn were just measly thoughts to create distance and a twin heart still laid next to hers, where a sense of forever was yet to fade and hope, however gross the negligence of it was, was able to reach even the unlit corners of her, craves to forget – just for a moment – that this is who she has to be. 

For everyone’s sake but most especially yours, Wednesday scatters those scraps until they exist in locations that are inaccessible, even to herself, and no one suffers more for it than she does. So, as she swallows back the bile of her desires, her tongue is sour with bitterness and syllables formulate an acrid speech that tries to chase away the taste of all that she wants but cannot have. 

“All I detect is your feeble minded attempt to frighten me. You’re a bleeding heart, Tesoro, we both know you’re too soft to follow through with your meagre threats. You never were tenacious enough to do what was needed to keep me, this is no different.”  

Regret is immediate; acid does not eliminate bitterness, it only serves to make the taste resonate deeper until she’s choking on the foul filth of an inescapable death. The true difference between you, she realizes, is that she’s not capable of being selfless without leaving scars on the ones she’s trying to shelter and that your way of being selfless only leaves you with more. 

A thick smog of shadows gather in the atmosphere, sharpening your features and maniacal laughter washes over the cusps of Wednesday’s eardrums. Her pulse jumps and she just knows that you felt it because your grip on her throat tightens at last, unapologetic nails becoming a barbed wire necklace that itches to splay her tendons for the world to witness. 

“Oh, Mulsa, that’s where you’re wrong.” You tsk with condescension. “Everything is different. I’m finally who I was always meant to be, existing outside of the fear that plagued me, and it’s all thanks to you. I have embraced my destiny, can you say the same?”

Mockery drips from your words and her reality suddenly shifts as she finds herself in a castle that assembles itself with a swish of your wrist. It reigns beautifully decrepit in nature; rotten beams of wood rib the frame, moss rests in divots of cracking stone, and moonlight glints through openings in the ceiling. You casually lean against a gothic throne of skulls that no one sits upon and Wednesday transforms into a court jester, in the presence of a lowly regent who pretends that they do not pull all of the strings behind the scenes.

“How long do you think you’ll last in this kingdom of solitude, Wednesday? Who else will you hurt in your quest for knowledge? And do the answers you find at the end of it all outweigh the expense others have to pay to get you there?” Your voice rumbles, ricocheting off stone walls before striking her exactly where you know it will hurt most.

Color touches her skin for the first time, anger and humiliation mingling to create a red sheen on pale flesh. It’s a sort of wickedness she never thought you to be capable of but perhaps she should have seen it coming. 

“None of that is relevant.” She whispers harshly.

“Isn’t it? Am I not the cataclysm of your choices? Is this not me paying your dues?” Massive charcoal wings beat; once, twice, three times – they propel you upward, high into the air and tree bark horns tilt your jaw back with their weight. Specks of blood rain down from the force, painting the surrounding layout maroon, dousing Wednesday in turn. You bare your arms outward, showcasing your new form to an audience of one.

Crisp, off-white linen hugs the muscles of your torso while the sleeves furl at each elbow. Three buttons are undone, revealing a prominent collarbone and a smooth expanse of skin. Dark beige slacks loosely clutch to long legs – one slightly bent at the knee, toeing the edge of the other as you hover in place. You are all neutral tones with monochromatic undercurrents, eyes drowning in a void of black reeking of judgement, and vibrancy is lost to a death by her own hands.

Wednesday licks her lips, catching droplets of metallic liquid on her tongue. Stagnancy overrules the scent of trees in the foreground and there is no reprieve as she suffocates on nothing but the truth. Her resolve is crumbling; you may not be a ruler of this kingdom but you do have an undeniable deathgrip on her heartstrings. If you were anyone else, that fact would be revolting. 

“Unless,” a pause. “Maybe this is what you wanted. You always did love everything dark and twisted.”

Slowly, you descend in front of her and there’s a soft click as the heels of your dress shoes settle down. Dust kicks up into the air, your wings breezing along the floor, and you wordlessly take four shallow strides around her. You come to stand behind her, breath fanning over the sensitive stretch of her neck. She can see you no longer but just your presence in itself is taunting.

There’s a brush of fingertips against her back, nudging her forward and before long she arrives at a set of steps. You shove her up them; the action makes her stumble and her balance is lost to the last stair. She falls into the vacant throne, which she now realizes belongs to her. Twin knees scrape the edge, making her body twist to relieve the pain and sit properly. 

Indignation rises to the surface at the mistreatment and Wednesday tries to swallow it, to keep away words that will only perpetuate this discourse, but it’s fruitless. “My proclivities aren’t your concern. Up to this point, every decision you have made has been solely yours. I am not to blame for your indiscretions.”

“Perhaps.” You nod, standing resolutely at the incline up to the throne she sits upon. “Truly, I’m not here for placations or reasonings. You are partially correct in assuming that this,” your hand waves around your form, “is not the inner workings of your… machinations.”

“Then why? What is this macabre display for?” Wednesday interrupts.

None of it makes sense; how easily you forfeit your earlier claims. 

“Because, in the end, this was never for you.” You start, something dark creeping along your legs. It rises to dwarf your already tall stature and features are slow to form but when they do, they are wholly monstrous and deeply unsettling. There is absolutely nothing in this world that compares and warning bells screech a dizzying spell of the danger to come should Wednesday choose to misstep in its presence.

Exaggerating steps loosen the hold it has on you, materializing into translucent flesh, and your body is distorted to her as the being stands in front of you. An arm raises, travelling up to your chest, and stuttering in wicked glee before plunging in. You gasp loudly, figure hunching over, and the being forces you straight with its free hand at your shoulder. With a dramatic flair, it rips its fingers out and they do not come back empty. 

Without care or regard, the beast walks away from you, and the sight that greets Wednesday grips her with terror. The facade of power fades to nothing and you are left human but skeletal. Wings, horns, the black void; they’re all gone, and exhaustion coats your dull eyes, your knees buckling to the floor. Falling forward, your shoulders rise, head ducking low as nailbeds of blood trace the cracking stone of the floor. Convulsions attack your spine, driving a body of bones further into the ground. 

“A distraction,” The beast rumbles in glee, an olden accent curling over its words. “To pull you away from the truth.” A bleeding, bruising heart rests in its palm; dark blotches covering the organ and Wednesday finds it disconcerting the way they pulsate, widening with each heavy breath you shudder. “We finally understand now; love is a weakness. For children who still play with toy soldiers, dreaming of the day they will change the world. It’s quite humorous, don’t you think?”

And there, right then, despite your best efforts to play it off as something else, Wednesday finally sees the evil for what it truly is: self-preservation. It is protection, disguising itself as rage. It is guardianship, shouldering all that you cannot and turning it into power. It is the heart in a beast’s hand, with a cage that moulds along its edges that wills itself not to break any further.

Red teeth gleam up at her, a grotesque smile staring straight through her, and dissuading her attention from the creature next to you. “I never wanted to change the world, Wednesday, not really anyway. But I did want you – not just the good parts but also the pieces of you that raged in contempt. I wanted the entirety of you: your doubt, your fear, your selfishness; the thousand-yard stare, the tempered soul, the frostbitten heart. I wanted the girl who despised even the thought of love.”

“No.” Wednesday utters except it’s too quiet, caught in her throat.  

“God, Wednesday, I wanted it all – everything you were willing to part with and nothing more. Yet, you turned your back on us and you didn't even have the decency to give me a valid reason why. I deserved better than a half-assed excuse as to why it had to end. But it’s okay. Blame is a two-way street and I was wrong too. I pushed and ignored every warning sign, dancing along boundaries and fed into your suspicions without a need to prove myself to be on your side.”

“No.” She tries again. 

(Still not enough, still on the cusp of- of-.)

“And I guess, this is all to say that we both had a choice and perhaps we chose wrong, though maybe the cards were always stacked against us. Now here we are, forcing each other to relieve it all over again, and it’s time to put an end to this. We finally get to have what we tried to cheat each other out of. You finally get to be free and I finally get to say goodb-.” 

“No!” The single word rips and tears and mutilates her throat in the effort to leave the confines of her voice box. All her life Wednesday has been toeing the line between devastation and freedom, a weak grip on her inhibitions, always viscerally trying to prove something or another. Until a sick sense of clarity washes over what this all means; one more loss, one more all alone, one final nail in the coffin. 

A death to rewrite all the others. 

Falling in love with you was like falling asleep, gradually then all at once, because it crept along the edges of her vision until it was too late and despite her aversion to it, it was warm. And the days that followed were everything she thought herself to be incapable of; the quiet nights, the sound of rustling sheets as she wrote pages upon pages on her typewriter, the dulcet tones of you humming along to vibrating strings, the laughter without reservation, the eyes full of a home made just for her, the hands that held her softly in the dark. 

And then, of course, the self-sabotage set in. Her wants and desires took a backseat to make room for fear, and somewhere in the midst, the ease of your love made way for her doubt and she swears you both lost something that day. The person she became to combat her loss of control isn’t something she’s proud of but maybe… maybe this is the part where she pleads with you to understand. Where she lays everything on the line; all her misgivings and the lies she tries to tell herself to circumvent all that she does not understand.  

When your eyes cut across her own, you look at her like you know, and the uncaged beast only laughs as your features close themselves off from her once more. The vulnerability seeps out, draining from trembling, bloodsoaked fingers, and replacing itself with indifference before Wednesday even has the chance to rearrange her thoughts into coherency. The pleas building in her throat die, falling into the void of every other thing she’s left unsaid.

How repulsive.  

Wednesday’s jaw clenches at her own inadequacy, teeth clicking in time with her shallow breaths. Hands of ice grasp tightly at each other while she tries to reform the truth she’s been meaning to say. It’s time, she attempts to coax herself. No longer will she bow to her lesser qualms. 

Enough is enough. 

“You were wrong.”

A feigned grace pulls her from the throne, rising up and carrying her down the steps that will lead her to you. Firm resolve weights each footfall to the stone beneath Wednesday, laying the groundwork for an outcome that doesn’t end with ties severed indefinitely. A disgusting amount of trepidation still lingers menacingly, but not for prior reasons. It washes over her because she knows that if she doesn't get this right and you walk away from her once again, it will be for the last time. 

As she reaches you, the beast rears up into the space between you, your heart ducking out of sight with a single movement. Up close, Wednesday can see the second the previous glee renders itself obsolete, paving the way for rage to form in its stead. Translucence melds into mortal flesh in an instant, further providing a barrier to you and it’s features constantly flicker; sweeping into each other, refusing to commit to a lone one. 

All of it is a warning: for you may have never been able to truly hurt her, but this beast holds no such inhibitions. And yet, Wednesday ignores it, skirting around the form with a brief flicker of eye contact. Rolling coals follow the movement, a sneer deepening the gouges at the corners of it’s mouth. Heat steadily rises at her back when she kneels before you, gaining in temperature, and a hearth set ablaze licks the skin of Wednesday’s nape, until sweat lines her hairline.  

“Before,” Wednesdays continues despite the duality of the cold shell holding your gaze captive and the heat at her back, her fingertips fluttering around your body but never settling. “You said you’d never be good enough for me.” A scowl crawls into her features, disdain vaguely clinging to her words. “You were wrong.” 

Confusion briefly overcomes the frost but it’s not enough. You flinch with every syllable, as if her words still burn; like your flesh is a step away from igniting and she’s dousing you in lighter fluid. A battlefield sprawls before her, all of her own making, and each word is a precarious mark upon the earth, hidden with landmines Wednesday tries to sidestep. 

Wednesday thinks this might be part of her destiny that Goody forgot to mention – truth be told, self-loathing is akin to starvation; the hunger pains force you to eat yourself from the inside out until nothing remains. Perhaps that’s the most tragic intricacy of her fate, to commit atrocities for the sake of others' preservation, and to suffer all the more for it. Now, trying to find the medium between the two banks entirely on her willingness to push aside everything she’s ever thought to know about herself. 

As Wednesday gazes upon you; you with the sunrise in your eyes and the red candle wax burning lips, she clings to the notion that it isn’t the dying that scares her, but the insurmountable loneliness that follows in the wake of your departure. It is hollow and damning because you are attempting to leave, in more ways than one, and she is running out of options that will force you to stay. 

Longing breaches through the whisper of her words, “You were too much, in all the soft ways I desire to detest. Too good, too simple; too easy to love. And so, I wanted-” Wednesday’s breath falters, fingers folding to tear at the lines of each palm. “I wanted to make you pay, for forcing these ugly emotions upon me. I never wished to feel the juvenile propensity to need you, in all the foul ways weaker beings fall victim to. Yet, it is those feelings that beg of me to forfeit this charade, because, for however seldom I say it, I do love you.”

Finally, Wednesday reaches for your hand, knuckles scraping along the stone to slot her fingers between your own. “I’m in love with you, and it is all-consuming, vile, and entirely effortless. I may not know how it will end, but I believe there exists a place out there built just for the two of us; one that is otherworldly, and beautiful, and so, so alive. Destiny be damned.”

Wednesday watches as your eyes crawl the length of her face, an unreadable expression marring the expanse of your features. A shudder partly pulls your body away from her, a heavy exhale escaping your lips. She can’t tell whether her words were well received as you hunch your knees under your chin, cradling your elbows around the edges of your calves. Just as she goes to continue, desperation clinging to the fraying ends of her sanity, your free palm craters the ground beneath you. 

Long forgotten wraiths spiral into view and confusion tears her form upwards onto her feet, unwittingly losing the grip she has on you. They begin to chase her and the ground beneath her feet zooms out of focus as she tries to get away. They’re faster, upon Wednesday in mere seconds, and then she’s falling, falling, falling, and for a long moment nothing comes up to catch her.

Yet again, the scenery of the throne room changes and she stumbles to her knees in a foreign land. 

Grass bunches up between her fingers, wet and coarse, and a graveyard looms before her. Each tombstone lining the distance is marked with a name, cementing every loss she’s ever faced; not just of people, but places and emotions too. A beat passes before you appear at her side, steps away from an open casket set six feet in the ground. When she shuffles up to unsteady feet, the body within it looks suspiciously like you. 

Your voice carries on the wind, circling her as you murmur, “What if you’re wrong?”

There’s a slew of answers on the tip of Wednesday’s tongue, but most fall short, never quite encompassing what she truly wants to say. One, though, rises above the rest, so simple it makes her want to scoff. Instead, she pushes the sound down, and in the midst of the words that follow, a part of her realizes that she’s finally learning; understanding. There are things in the world that you need not fight, nor feelings that are too childish to accept. Some things are just simple; easy.

“But what if I’m right?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Wednesday sees you sway slightly in place, her words – honest at last – completely sinking in. With a noticeable limp stuttering your footsteps, you gradually move in front of her. The tips of your dress shoes scratch along the edges of her own boots as you eliminate every ounce of Wednesday’s personal space, your arm rising up in her peripheral vision. Hesitation faults the movement, and she recognizes the doubt for what it is: a fear she never meant to place within you; of her reaction, of her motives, of her.  

With time, she promises to herself to put all of her wrongs right, but for now, she gently latches onto your wrist, bringing your hand down to rest on the underside of her jaw. Your eyes flash with recognition before your forehead descends upon hers, a shaky breath exhaling against her lips that sounds like an okay. Suddenly boneless, your body sags, shoulders loosening as your other arm reaches around the small of her back, tugging her into you. 

You hold onto Wednesday tighter than she ever had the audacity to covet her desires and she cannot deny the sense of home that follows. 

Without fear, her feet lift up, gaining a slight height advantage to place a lingering kiss atop your head, but a figure drifts into focus before her eyes can close. The beast faintly shimmers behind the tombstone with your name on it that fades, a neutral expression on it’s face. It watches Wednesday closely, eyes of coal simmering into ash as it takes in your figure so entwined with her own. Your heart still resides in it’s palm, but even from here, Wednesday can gauge how loosely it’s grip is. A nod of a head and a quirk of lips beckons her, once last time, to take in another truth. 

Love has many faces, and seldom are they seen clearly.

Your heart finds its way back to its home as the beast settles, slowly descending in height, and it’s features melt into a vaguely familiar countenance. It is you, but aged, with laugh lines marking the corners of your eyes, and a nostalgic smile at the cusp of your lips. And it is an echo, of both your and her future, teetering on the edge of a forever that will soon be fully earned. 

( – there are places in wednesday that the light doesn’t touch and she can’t help but to put you in all of them.

but then you learn to become the light, and all the dark places shine.)

[mizzskelter]

Degrees of Lewdity Character Playlists I invested a disgusting amount of time into

School Quartet [Spotify Links]:

🔪 Kylar

🌻 Robin

🧸 Whitney

💜 Sydney

PC, Eden, and Ivory Wraith:

🪓 Eden

🧨 PC

💧 Ivory Wraith

Below are too short for individual playlists, and my library is cluttered enough as is:

🍺 Alex & The Farm:

[Picture them with their newborn] Alex’s Keepsake (Stardew Valley)

Drink Up, There’s More! (The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt ost)

[Alex’s Cottage] Fireflies on the Porch (NITW ost)

Race Me! (Mark Sparling)

Home Theme Remix (Qumu—Rune Factory Frontiers)

Mr. Fox in the Fields (Alexandre Desplat)

♠ Wren:

Nu Suave and Matador (The Buttertones)

My Type and Van Horn (Saint Motel)

Casino Royale (Derivakat)

💊 Doctor Harper:

Happy Pills (Weathers)

Panic Room (AU/RA)

The Therapist (Foreign Air)

🦅Great Hawk:

Harpy Hare & Neath the grove is a Heart (Yaelokre)

In Our Talons (Bowerbirds)

[tentacleplains]

‼️18+ FOLLOWERS ONLY‼️ PUT YOUR AGE OR AN AGE INDICATOR IN BIO/PINNED OR YOU GET BLOCKED‼️

this is a DOL centric blog with sporadic posts about other things, usually porny games i play. but mostly DOL right now.

i don’t have a name but you can give me one if you want. otherwise you can call me tentacle or keres. i’m 22, AAPI, TME, and i use it/he/they pronouns.

fav LIs are sydney and eden and avery. i’ve got stockholm syndrome: eden irl. in addition to this i want to be harper’s pavlovian dog and i would give my kingdom for a crumb of ivory wraith pussy.

original posts are tagged original post. writing is tagged tentacle writes, headcanons are tagged headcanons, art is tagged tentacle draws. in-game scenes and also q&a's are tagged citations. criticism of the game is tagged dol critical for filtering purposes. named NPCs are all tagged with their name only and no epithets.

find my writing on ao3!

send me a drawing!

inbox is open for writing and headcanon requests! or just anything at all. i love making friends but i’m shy haha

i default to whichever genders i prefer for NNPCs unless specified otherwise. i have a lot of fun making fake screenshots so if you'd like an "in-game scenario" definitely ask :)

or, if you want me to try and hunt down a real in-game scene, you can ask too! just be aware that if it's intensive or finicky i might not get to it.

hard NO's are ANIMALS, UNDERAGE, INCEST, and NECRO. keep it out of my inbox. gore is fine though. also obviously noncon is fine this is a blog dedicated to the rape porn game

more info + personal dol opinions under the cut

i generally prefer NNPCs as women.

exceptions include sirris, winter, (transmasc) robin, darryl, black wolf, great hawk, landry, sometimes bailey, and sometimes remy.

i heavily prefer syd, eden, whitney, avery, and leighton as women; syd because trans girl sydney (and optionally trans girl kylar alongside her) is my fav sydney, and for the others i find their actions obnoxious when coming from men. (alex edges dangerously close to this border as well.)

also, the game doesn't facilitate this, but i enjoy nonbinary niki, wren, mickey, and occasionally harper. harper is always some form of trans in my mind.

of course i'll accept any other interpretations of the nnpcs, including any variations on transness, so if you want to ask for a specific gender configuration in a writing request, feel free ^^

i play with all toggles on, but with 100% of beasts set to monsterpeople all the time. i'm not willing to write black wolf/great hawk/black dog/etc as actual animals.

[propertyofwhitney67]

li if furniture confirm?

Whitney: Couch

Kylar: counter

Robin: TV

Alex: bench

Eden: coat rack

Avery: table

Black Wolf: bean bag

Great hawk: Mattress

Sydney: futon

Bonus:

Wren: poker table

night monster: jewelry box

Mickey: Computer

Bailey: Typewriter

Gwylan: PRIVATE BRAND UNBRANDED Beige Metal Stackable Folding Chair from Home Depot ®

Ivory Wraith: sink

Mason: bathtub

Morgan: fridge

Whitney: couch or lazy boy

Kylar: gaming chair or desk

Robin: i instinctively thought playstation, but remembered that that's not furniture

Alex: also a lazy boy, maybe??

Eden: gun rack

Avery: centerpiece table that was way too expensive and looks stupid

Black Wolf: fuzzy BIG bean bag

Great Hawk: Round mattress so wings don't get hurt

Sydney: prayer kneeler

Wren: *nods* poker table

Night Monster: Chest full of jewelry and shiny things

Mickey: high end computer

Bailey: file cabinet

Gwylan: very specific and I respect that

Ivory Wraith: pedestal

Mason: clawfoot bathtub

Morgan: teapot or stove

[pansyfilia]

i'm here to save you: can you plsplspls talk about pandora? just feel free to share random things about her (if you add something about greek mythology, you'll make my classical heart happy)

YES YES YES YES YESSSSSS I HAD THIS QUEUED ALR

wait lemme just

PANDORA ROSIER, THE MORTICIAN, THE BALLERINA, THE TAXIDERMIST

beware- big ass rant coming

OKAY OKAY OKAY so shes freaky. not as freaky as evan but still strange and weird and off putting

her hair goes into weird shapes pretty easily and she wears it 16th cent marie antoinette

she wears silk gowns that are weirdly motheaten and little ivory rosaries and rings carved from the silver of her great grandmother's wedding ring and the bones of her knuckles and femurs

her eyes are buggy and framed by strange looking lashes and her bones are bulging and her cheeks are sunk and perfectly white

her and evan once got lost in a snowstorm and their grandmama swears halfway to hell that their eyes went silver after that. she is like a little white rat scurrying in the maze or the fairy-like white maggot. she loves taxidermy and she loves dead roses and she loves the addams family and shes sawn off a few of evans fingers before

not to worry though, she sealed them back on with things that should have been left alone.

her walls are hung with bone saws and taxidermy needles and peacock featheres and around her wafts the smell of roses and arsenic. her ankles are both thick and skinny, and she is like a living wraith. she makes friends with what hides in the shadows and she reads falling-apart books and she slices off parts of the giant squid ever so often to brew her homemade elixirs. every now and then a student is ever so violently choked - not to death, though she made that mistake a few times back. in a modern au she would have loved the mycelium killer from hannibal. she really does like mushrooms.

i see her as cassandra of the iliad. she was a twin too, disbelieved by all after she was scorned by a god. i think pandora was a worshipper of something, even if it wasn't good to her. pandy was deffo a seer, evven if her methods were unorthodox. you know, scrying in entrails and bone dice.

[screechingcheesecakecheesecake]

(assuming that 7 orgasms in a row is the maximum for an average adult) Pure Sydney - you’re lucky if you get 2 back to back rounds. Robin - 3. Can do 5 if overstimulation is approved. High trauma Robin can only do 2 though. Fallen Sydney - 3 out of the prayer room but focused on getting you off. Eden - Sometimes satisfied with a 1 and done. Sometimes can go for 7 rounds. Alex - 3-5 rounds depending on exhaustion. Whitney - 6-7 rounds. 7 if you’re doing most of the work. Kylar -will be physically exhausted after 3 but you can keep using their body for as long as you’d like. Black Wolf and Great Hawk - no idea. Ivory Wraith - no limit

I've been thinking about this a lot (yeah dont mind me responding long lmaoo)

I think Pure Sydney also depends on PC taking charge. High Purity Sydney would probably too flustered to continue after one but low Purity Sydney would be willing to submit for another around.

Robin I agree lmao (I sometimes take advantage of the maximum chances to have sex with Robin in one day)

Eden I agree too, he is more of a multiple sex in one day than multiple rounds so yeah. Though maybe if high lust and that One bondage sex scene he can go for more

Great Hawk would be satisfied with one round but won't reject PC's request for more

[secretshamecorner]

Any of the Degrees of Lewdity love interests (and any of the characters with an achievement for losing your virginity to them) could fit the human centipede animation meme.

PC: The date started off so well

Begin my night not expecting the fright of my life

She was perfect from what I could tell

How could I not see the danger right in front of me?

Great Hawk: My favourite food is fish

PC: Baby, that's my favourite too

Black Wolf: I love cartoon dogs

PC: Baby, I love Scooby-Doo

Hey, girl, what's your favourite film?

Alex: She said, "The best movie of all, a masterpiece of art called

Human Centipede, Human Centipede"

PC (about Avery): I think that I'm gonna get murdered tonight

Morgan: Human Centipede, not ironically

Avery: She said, "The costume design was a highlight"

Wren: I like it for the plot

PC (at Wren): Tell me what the plot's about

Remy: German doctor sews three people ass to mouth

PC: Cool. Human Centipede, please, God, save me

PC (about Eden) I think that's a red flag, I don't want to get stabbed

Whitney: She said, "Human Centipede is a tour de force"

PC (about Whitney): I think, "Holy shit, I'm gonna be the main course"

Leighton: She said, "I admire the narrative of character growth"

I try to get the waiter's attention by blinkin' in Morse code

Kylar: Why are you blinking so much?

PC: I've got something in my eye

Kylar: Here, let me get it out

PC: No, thank you, I don't wanna die

Sam: Bonjour, sir was blinking at me

Is this because your date is a freak?

PC: No.

Sam: Very good then, bon appétit

Robin: Stop hiding behind your silly made-up red flag

To not take a chance on the best relationship you never had

Pc (at Robin): Maybe you're right, and I'm looking for excuses

PC (at Whitney): My heart's got bruises, but I'm ready to choose this love

Alex: You could be my world, the love of my life

Eden: One day, we'll get married and be husband and wife

PC (at Sydney): With a tasteful ceremony and the wedding of our dreams

Sydney: Only if the wedding is themed

PC (at Sydney): Tell me what the theme's gonna be

[quick pan to the temple and Jordan]Human Centipede, Human Centipede

Bailey: That way, we could save on the catering bill

Bailey: Human Centipede, only one mouth to feed

PC to Mickey: If you are the best man, you know the deal (pucker up)

PC: I can finally open myself up to love

Harper: I can finally sew a mouth to a butt

Human Centipede

Human Centipede

[Ivory Wraith is not included because Ivory Wraith has never seen a film.]

[deathshadowed]

Karma thought, hoped she will perish in a great battle, the most famous shootout of the old Western era. Death accompanied her since childhood, her parents dying when she was 10, her uncle when she was 20. The legendary marksman has never missed her target; she was a Black Mamba: one bite, sure death. The only remaining family member was her horse, Villám, a cross breed between Lipizzan & Akhal Teke. The gang she was hunting realized how deep her bond ran with Villám, wrestled the horse into the furthest stall from the exit and set the stall on fire. Karma had a choice, continue her hunt with vengeance and leaving Villám to die alone, afraid or face her greatest fear, the fire and try to rescue her.

She marched into the flames. By the time she reached and freed her, she knew it was too late for them to get out. Her revolver only had one bullet in the cylinder, she couldn’t leave Villám, nor she had the strength to end her. Instead Karma told her to breathe. Breathe in the thick clouds of smoke before the fire could reach them. They collapsed and died together, shielding each other from the approaching flames. The most feared gunslinger died in 1895, her grave unmarked, her legend slowly suffocating along with her.

The first change she noticed in Hell that the chambers of her revolvers, Salvation and Damnation were full. The next was Villám standing next to her, her mane and tail billowing like smoke, her fur a darker shade of black and her eyes were acid green fire. As Karma was hugging the only one remaining and even following her to death, her hair fell into her face; instead of the sun lightened dark blonde, porcelain white strands.

As she took a small step realized that the exact spot she’s been standing has started deteriorating. Death following her like a shadow in life has finally caught up with her. When Karma learned about the yearly cleanse, she decided to test her newfound powers, pressing her hand to the border of the ring until was eaten away and she could escape with Villám.

She wandered through rings until she reached Wrath, the scenery, the inhabitants a strong reminder of her life, therefore she decided to settle in that ring.

Side verse / delayed death: Humbled by her death, Karma treated her afterlife as a second chance. She lived in almost complete soltitute, near exile mostly due to her powers as she didn't want to harm anyone nor the infrastructure and her actual need to enjoy the quiet, dangerous desert with her horse by her side. She took on various jobs, hunting, weapon maintenance, locating lost or missing children and killing those who took them; a humble life which didn't require her to be known by society other than a wraith passing by. Until a day and a challenge, a threat came.

Main: As decades passed, the ivory haired woman and her midnight wonder of a horse wasn't too much of a secret. The current local demon lord had his eyes on the strange mare and challenged the rider to a race, if he wins he takes Villám. Karma agreed, her faith in her horse's speed unwavering, plus it...offered a thrill from her old life. Despite her victory, Villám was about to be taken she realized there was only one way out of the situation. After the showdown Karma realized she was destined to kill, no matter how she tried to run from it. With now shadows oozing from her back, she continued with her old job, a bounty hunter clouded by murky mist and an aura of decay.

Demonic features:

At first glance Karma appears relatively humanlike. Bone white hair, poison green sclera, bright, glowing acid green irises along with the glowing outline of her crosshair scar. Her right pupil merged together with the scar, but causes no problems in vision.

Her skin is sickly pale, as if she’s a ghost, it turns to black starting from her fingers while shooting. Her crosshair scar also glows when taking aim.

As a souvenir from her human life, her Black Mamba alias carried over into the afterlife in the form of the entire interior of her mouth being ink black along with a slightly lighter black forked tongue. She also has two extra hidden fangs on the top of her mouth which she can flick down briefly. However she's not venomous, but the sight is usually deterring enough to keep the facade.

There are two long ashen gashes on her back, always oozing shadows: the slits feel like they are missing something; also they are the main source of the eerie fog/shadows accompanying her.

Karma doesn’t bleed. When she’s wounded, black mist with tints of green seep out of the wound, both weaving it close and eroding everything else it touches. Her heart is also silent, been since her death but overwhelming emotions are capable of making it beat for a few seconds, which is both physically painful and an emotional trauma in one.

Demonic transformation: Karma is quite short with her 5'9 frame, but that can change quite drastically between 10 feet up to even 20. Her whole body is overtaken by a substance similar to smoke; black, poison & seafoam green swirling together. Her state is between solid and gaseous, gaining speed unable to be followed by naked eye. Her left eye striking white, her crosshair scar glowing a vicious acid green while the rest of her face stays hidden in the shadows.

Abilities:

Revolvers: her bullets are the essence of souls she has killed both when alive and dead; combined with her powers. Stronger the person/entity was, greater the bullet’s damage will be to the point of destroying holy beings. Her bullet supply is near unlimited, but if she misses one shot, she will lose all collected souls, reaving only one bullet when she died.

Aura of decay: Karma can’t stay in one place for too long. The smoke accompanies her every step, causing the environment to die, most beings to age if spent too much time in her presence. So far only one is immune to it. When transformed, instead of this phenomenon being passive, she can unleash it as a devastating offense, the swirling black and acid green tendrils leaving only brittle bones.

Shadow manipulation: She can control shadows in her vicinity, short distance travel through them, engulf smaller areas in complete darkness. In shadows she can move faster than sound, agile and her body is not solid while doing so.

Sensing life forms: Mostly with her left eye, she can sense life nearby, although can’t pinpoint the exact location unless she’s really close. But she knows someone, something is there.

[softmangoes]

how the LIs kiss

18+

pure!sydney's kisses are sweet, mouth soft and his tongue warm. he kisses you in the same way he savors the hard candies you'd slide over the library counter, slipping them into his hands just so your fingers could brush. when he pulls away, his glasses are foggy, a nervous smile on his face. "was that..." he says, blushing. "was that alright?"

corrupt!sydney's kisses are hungry. he's got his hands under your shirt and his tongue deep in your mouth. he's been waiting so patiently, after all, and now he finally has you to himself. "you taste divine, beloved." he says, fingers slipping under your waistband. when you sigh against his mouth, he smiles. "but i think it's time i have my dessert."

whitney's kisses hurt. they're full of teeth and bruises and blood and his nails digging crescents into your skin. whenever he crushes his lips to yours, he always makes sure to leave you aching. and like every fight you've had against him, you never come out unscathed. "there," he says, marveling at the fresh marks blooming along your neck. "now everyone will know whose slut you are."

kylar's kisses are desperate. his hands roam your skin as his mouth murmurs endless promises into the hollow of your neck. "we'll be together forever," he says, drunk on the scent of you. he presses his body to yours, eager to get closer, to envelope you in his embrace. to never, ever, let you go. "nothing will ever change that."

eden wastes no time when he kisses you. he has known the lean months of winter and the lonely days of fall. you cannot deny him the sweetness of spring. he bites into the curve of your neck like the first fruit of warmer days, licks at your lips to drink in your sweetness. but a hunter is always hungry, always wanting. "it's been a long day," he growls, deepening the kiss. when he takes your shirt in his hands, the fabric rips apart easily. "too long without you."

robin's kisses are warm. they're fingers running through your hair, a smile against your mouth. sunny days and lips that taste like fresh lemonade. he always laughs when he kisses you, like he can't believe he's doing this. like he can't believe he's yours. when he kisses you, the world is a little brighter. softer. "it's a beautiful day to be with you," he murmurs after he pulls away, pressing a peck to your cheek before taking your hand in his.

there is no way you can truly describe how the ivory wraith kisses you, but there is a note of familiarity to it. your mind conjures memories of kisses whispered in passing, of lips locked in darkened halls. "as sweet as ever," he hums, licking your lips with his cool tongue. "as sweet as always." the passing of centuries have done little else but make him yearn. the wraith, with his great and terrible beauty, kisses you like he's been waiting for you all this time.

[xasha777]

In the distant future, Earth's civilizations have crumbled and reformed, now coexisting with the bizarre and the wondrous. The world has seen the birth and death of nations, the rise of AI dominions, and the rediscovery of mythical creatures once thought extinct or never believed to have existed. Among these, the Inaccessible Island rail, a bird long thought to have been confined to a tiny island in the South Atlantic, has adapted in unexpected ways, becoming a symbol of the persistent force of life.

The great samurai Takashi, known in whispers as the Red Crane, once a man of flesh and bone, fell in a legendary battle centuries ago. But his spirit, too stubborn for the afterlife, bound itself to his armor, waiting for the day it would rise again. And it did, in the age of neo-samurai and techno-shogunates.

When Takashi awakened, his body was not as it once was. His skeletal visage was now a mask of ivory and steel, infused with the same crimson threads that graced the plumage of the Inaccessible Island rail. Takashi became a guardian of a strange new world, a world where the rail had evolved into a creature of both flesh and circuitry, navigating not only the winds of the sky but also the data streams of cyberspace.

Takashi's return coincided with the rise of a new peril, an entity that threatened the delicate balance between the old magic and new technology. This threat was known only as the Data Wraith, a ghost in the machine that consumed information, souls, and the very essence of life. Villages would go silent, wildlife vanished, and even the skies seemed to dim as the Wraith passed.

But Takashi was not just a warrior; he was a symbol, a beacon of resistance. His armor, engraved with the tales of old and the runes of new magics, became a rallying point for those who sought to preserve the world from this devouring shadow. The Inaccessible Island rail, once a mere creature of adaptation, had become intertwined with the planet's fate. It seemed to dance around Takashi, a dance of inspiring synchronicity, as if it were guiding him towards his destiny.

As Takashi ventured through the remnants of old cities and the skeletons of forgotten technologies, he found allies. A legion of bio-engineered samurai, a cabal of techno-sorcerers, and the ethereal Inaccessible Island rails, now the harbingers of both nature and technology's resilience.

The final confrontation with the Data Wraith was inevitable. As Takashi and his allies launched their assault on the Wraith's digital fortress, the battle raged both in the physical realm and in the virtual. The Inaccessible Island rails, navigating through data streams, disrupted the Wraith's control, while Takashi, with his blade that shimmered with a thousand years of history, struck at the heart of the Wraith's power.

In the end, it was the unity of life and technology, the harmony between the ancient ways and the new order, that turned the tide. Takashi, the Red Crane, with his ghostly form and the Inaccessible Island rails, now avatars of the digital wind, cleansed the world of the Wraith's corruption. And when the battle was over, the world breathed anew, as the Inaccessible Island rails sang a song of a future where all life could soar on the winds of change, unafraid of the darkness that once threatened to engulf them all.

[inkyquince]

Misc. Characters

SFW

Comfort Thoughts (Soft Headcannons about main LI's)

Rubber Ducky!

Stagnant (Vent Piece) 

Ruining His Life (SFW piece about Bailey as a Father) 

Love Interests’ Favourite and Least Favourite TF’s

Helping Them Redress (Leighton, Bailey, Darryl, Wren)

LI not being comfortable around their Exes (Robin, Kylar, Whitney)

Holding Whitney's Dick as He Pees

Avery Surveillance

NSFW

Late Night Help- (Asshole Ensemble To The Rescue When Reader Is Drugged) 

Realistic Vibrator Headcannons- (Robin, Kylar, Whitney, Eden, Avery, Alex, Sydney)

Male Love Interests Make Reader Squirt- (Robin, Kylar, Whitney, Eden, Avery, Alex, Sydney)

Shifted Lips- (Briar and Bailey not quite kissing reader) 

Fleshlite Punishment- (People who would use a fleshlight as a punishment)

Cum Drunk (Various people getting cum drunk off the PC)

Thigh Riding (Thigh Riding with Male! LI)  

Cucking Spouses with Work Husbands (Various characters getting cucked by reader)

Beautiful Bride- (AFAB Reader in Bridal Lingerie)

Stealth Mode Perverts-(Perverts who jerk off under the table at you versus up skirt photos)

Hungry For Hog (Harper, Briar, Darryl, Wren, Whitney's dick preferences)

The Fall Is Quicker from the Ground (River, Jordan and Darryl being accidentally corrupted)

Massage Patrons Thirst (Doren, River, Leighton, Harper, Bailey)

The Necklace (Eden, Veteran Guard, Bailey, Briar, Darryl, Ivory Wraith)

Kitty Cam (Leighton, Darryl, Great Hawk Kylar with kitty!camboy reader)

FWB with Older Generation When Young (Bailey, Eden, Remy, Harper, Briar)

Omega Harper (being a mean doctor to his omega patients)

Blowing off LI for older NPCs (Leighton, Avery, Harper, River, Quinn, Doren)

Tall Men <3 (Bailey, Morgan, Veteran Guard)

Boys Night Out (Briar, Remy, Bailey visiting PC in the stocks)

Teachers, a pocket pussy and your insta feed

Bitter Ex Husbands (Avery, Bailey, Remy)

Types of Baby Trap (Kylar, Avery, Harper, Morgan, Bailey, Whitney, Remy.)

Headmaster's Lesson and The Fallout

Headmaster’s Lesson- (Leighton has to punish his staff for letting you get away with so much shit.)

Aftermath (Sequel to Headmaster’s Lesson)

Love Hotel- (Leighton x PC x River)

Teacher Fuck Fest (Spin off, featuring dog person! Reader)

House Spouse Era

House Spouse- (House Spouse reader who unknowingly attracts gazes) 

Greed - (Quinn with House Spouse!)

B&B (Bailey and Briar with House Spouse!)

Briar ruining House Spouse (and we thank him for it)

Realistic House Spouse with Briar + Bailey

Vindictive- (Briar x House spouse)

Whitney The Deadbeat Dad and Avery, the Dad that Stepped Up (... Weird side tangent with Whitney angst, that's connected to the house spouse era)

Wren Versus Stepdads

Wren Versus Avery, Bailey, Leighton, Harper, Niki, Remy (Wren trying to step up but it's hard against these guys as your new husband)

How His Kid Turns Out (how kiddo ends up with each stepdad)

Shared By Three AU

(Stepbrothers! niki and remy and farmhand want those male readussy. Maybe also the dad.)

Shared Three Ways: Part 1 (Wren gets the first taste.)

Shared By Three: Part 2 (Niki gets a taste too)

Remy's Dad Kinks

Polyamorous (if you squint sometimes)

Poly Relationship thoughts- (Kylar/ Whitney and Remy/Avery)

Avery pimping out his kid to Quinn

Scummy Remy and Wren (Best Friends make you suck dick)

Blood of The Covenant (Omega Hunt Collab, Jordan x Reader x Sydney)

Wremussy One-Night Stand

Kicking Up A Fuss- (Remy x F!PC x Wren)

Snake Eyes- (Naga!Remy x PC x Wren)

Wren and The Boss' Spouse Letter

Balls (Briar x Reader x Bailey)

River x Leighton Toomfoolery

River's Kid and Uncle Leighton

The Show (Leighton x Cow!PC x River)

Whitney The Bully

Dog Days (Whitney fucks his pet dogperson)

Whitney Beefing With Half The Town

Whitney Versus Bailey

Whitney Versus Wren

Remy The Farmer

Remy as a Yandere

Leighton the Headteacher

Darling Divorced Daddy (Incest, Somno, Noncon)

Avery the Business Person

Obsessed Avery and his subordinate

Niki The Photographer

Older Niki and his younger muse

Misc.

Men's Big Hands (Doren, Veteran Guard, Eden)

Daddy and Mommy (When they enjoyed being called daddy or mommy. Briar, Bailey, Harper, Remy)

The Manspreaders

Whitney the Asshole Tattoo Artist (Dacryphilia)

Harper versus Briar on Kissing

Events!

Inky Halloween Event 2022-2023

Degrees of Lewdity Masterlist

Avery The Businessperson

Revenge (Getting Revenge against Avery for dumping you)

Clingy (Avery becoming clingy)

New Stepdad- (Avery as a stepdad)

Avery's Bitch (Picking out his new dog!reader; Hijacked Post)

Welcome to Avery's Hunt For His Next Sugar Baby (Picking out his sugar baby; Hijacked Post)

Bailey The Caretaker

Simmering- (Lazy Sex with Bailey)

Bailey Black and Blues (Blood play with Bailey)

Things That Go Bump In The Night (Somnophilia with Bailey)

Daddy Dearest (Bailey somnophilia and incest)

Briar The Brothel Owner

Briar, You Dick (PC gets assaulted and Briar fixes their makeup)

His Rings (Briar Hand Kink)

Eden The Hunter

Trapped- (PC caught in Eden’s Snare)

Withered White Roses In The Attic (Classmate! Eden being worse than usual)

Innocent Crush (Eden struggling with a crush on male!reader)

Bitching an Alpha (Eden the alpha bitches a fellow alpha)

Harper The Doctor

Doctor, Doctor, I... I forgot what I'm here for. (Harper hypnotizing and conditioning PC)

The Nasty Next Door (Harper as the Town Yandere)

The Doctor's Needs (Harper being a worse doctor more than ever)

Horny Harper the Hypnotist (Hijacked Post)

New Year's Kiss With Harper

Harper creeping on Hermaphrodite Reader Letter

Kylar The Loner

Peeking Pervert- (Kylar tries to rescue his notebook, just to get an eyeful of his worst nightmare, featuring Whitney.)

Chemist Kylar

Kylar's New Job (Kylar the masseuse)

Kylar Sexting

Kylar Stalker Letter- (Kylar being a nasty)

Kylar Creepy Omegaverse Letter- (Thirsting after Beta Reader)

Landry The Criminal

The Backrooms- (Landry x F!PC)

Leighton The Headteacher

Leighton’s Favourite Videos- (What he loves to watch)

Leighton Thoughts- (Headcannons for Boy toy Leighton)

Dilf Leighton Saga: (The Nanny, Breeding The Nanny)

Maid Service (Leighton finds his new favourite service)

Leighton Sexting

Head boy Leighton (the beginning)

Head boy Leighton and his pet

Introducing Head boy Leighton to your Parents(and the consequences)

Mason The Swim Teacher

The Itch- (Mason Chikan)

Scumbag Mason Thoughts

Prison Guards

Prison Guard Punishment- (Short thing about guards using you)

Method's Weakness (Get Caught riding methodical guard)

Quinn The Mayor

... Quinn tho (THANKS BESTOAN, NOW THAT'S A LAD I'D CLIMB)

Quinn thought- (Based off of bestoan's picture!)

General Quinn Thirst

Remy The Farmer

Liberties- (Remy taking liberties with Wren’s Partner)

Dearest Step-Daddy (Remy adopting PC as revenge)

Remy's Journal (Remy x Cowboy!PC)

River the Maths Teacher

The Pup's Revenge (Dog boy! Reader revenge on River)

Whitney The Bully

Whitney’s Oral Fixation (General Thoughts)

Whitney’s Punishment (Whitney punishing the reader for working at the brothel) 

Tattoo Artist Whitney

Sloppy Sunday (Whitney wakes up with you in his bed)

Jock Whitney- (Jock Whitney thoughts with outcast/cheerleader reader)

You are what you smoke… Fag (Whitney struggling with gay feelings)

Wren The Smuggler

Wren the Terrible Roommate

Wren’s Unionizing Perks (Wren getting to fuck the boss' spouse)

[necros-writing-stuff]

How do you think the npcs-dateable/nondateable would react to a pc who has zero social skills and hates eye contact so much they become in raged

Lmfao thats a lotta characters, so I'll be brief.

Blames themself:

Kylar, Robin, sometimes Sydney, Darryl, and I think Great Hawk would, too. And hear me out, Morgan.

Doesn't blame themself, but feels sorry for you:

Doren, Mason, Sirris, Winter, Charlie, maybe Sam, maybe Landry. Possibly Wren, but they might poke fun at you, too.

Honestly kinda scared of you:

Robin, Mickie, River. Gwylan, a little bit. I think Niki, too.

Finds you to be fucking weird:

Whitney, Alex. Alex still cares, but doesn't know what to do here. Briar goes here too, as does Quinn. Winter does a tad bit.

Bailey, Eden, Black Wolf, Remy, Whitney, Leighton, Morgan, Ivory Wraith, Avery, Briar.

Eden and Bailey get it, but won't put up with it.

BW takes it as a threat to their alpha title.

Remy thinks you're just a brat.

Whitney thinks you're odd, and therefore must bully.

Leighton also takes you as an insolent student and dishes out detentions.

Morgan blames themself for not parenting well enough, and results to "discipline".

With IW, it doesn't matter. Vultures get their comeuppance, hostility or no. It just makes you a little more fun.

Avery can't take you anywhere. Would likely find a replacement if they can't beat it out of you.

Briar can always find new staff in a town like this.

[lovely-hesitation]

Hello, you can call Goar! Gonna be writing here my dark headcanons/pieces of my writing for some fandoms:

a court of thorns and roses (acotar) — I wanna torture 98 % of characters in those books.

degrees of lewdity (dol) — same here too, but more in emotional way. (Mostly in human category).

will maybe add new fandom… maybe.

my general rules for asks:

1. Don’t spam the same ask to me. I’m a slow snail person, who needs time to read, thought out the answer and then write that down.

2. Okay with most of dark themes, but don’t give me any asks with tw necrophilia. Not even gonna do that with zombie Au’s.

3. This is NSFW blog for me to practice writing in English with dark matters/themes. Get out if you not comfortable/have a remotely bad reaction to this.

If you comfortable with everything, then let’s go with AU’s would like to write!

Now, with AU’s:

1) Pet/Slave AU (can be asked in both fandoms) — idea come from lovely Lisa from @phantasmiafxndom. They write hella good pieces of writing with this AU.

In acotar — basically what would happen if the human race became more powerful than fae and enslaved them as the punishment for millions of crimes? That it.

The only characters I WILL NOT be writing are:

anyone new from a court of silver flames. didn’t read it, don’t wanna. just no.

But characters from previous books? Sure. Only the ones that have an actual names, not a fucking “Lady of the Autumn Court”.

In Dol — every RO (human) is sold to underground slave market. That it.

The only characters I WILL NOT be writing are:

animal RO’s. means no Great Hawk (yet), Black Wolf or any not human build characters. Some goes for Ivory Wraith.

But characters like Robin, Sydney, Kyler or even Morgan? Yes, sure!

2) Collector/Hunter AU (can be asked right now only with acotar) — idea come from my childhood obsession of collecting dead bodies of the insects in glass jars. Basically Reader is Collector of fae and monsters. Hunts them down, examines them, fucks them or what, makes their life’s a living hell and puts them in the glass jar. So, characters won’t lose their “canonical” characteristics, while in Pet/Slave AU they change a lot.

3) Parental AU (can be asked right now only with dol) — characters are being adopted by Parent! Reader. Fluff/angsty, dark and grim, light and warm.

I think that’s all for the time being. Right now I’m gonna plaster on the first page “THE REQUESTS ARE OPEN” and gonna watch what will happen next…