#doomed wlw

[cadentaylor]

okay but what if emily will wait her whole life for a love that will never happen

[waffleconecouture]

Angel of darkness

I know this isn’t my usual art style…sorri

[ultwinkie]

~I'm slowly forgetting your face, Hachi~

[sapphic-tadp01e]

i got inspired by the self-aware mii trend going around but then was run over by the bullet train of lore and here we are

[lemonnnsk1ppy]

ritsumaya sketches ♡゙

[alleycat11424]

Celebrate pride month with doomed yuri! (Or not-doomed if you live in a fantasy world like me)

[hasvenn]

⠀. ︵⠀chokehold .⠀◌Ⳋ𝅄

A/n : ok this is like my first fic so bare with me .. sorry if this is bad lmao . Anyways hope you guys enjoy 🥹✌🏻

You and Robin have been dating for about a month now , everything was going well !! Untill one Friday night.

You were waiting for her on one of your guys dates at the park. 5 minutes have gone by, the 5 minutes turned into 30. Then turned into 1 hour. At this point you had found yourself going home. Maybe she was late? You thought to your self. Had she ditched you? No.. Robin isn’t like that, not at all. You had began to worry , a million thoughts cross your mind on what could’ve happened to your partner.

You had gone home, you were sad , you got ready for nothing. You thought. once you were in your room, you were debating on whether you should call her or not.

You stood up and dialed her number on the telephone. Normally she would answer right away. After the static ringing for 1 minute, she picked up.

You felt relieved once you heard her.

“Hello?” Robin said softly on the other line, her voice was groggy and raspier than usual.

“Oh hey rob, what-what happend?” You questioned, wondering why hadn’t she gone to your planned date.

Robin sighed, like she had been waiting for you to ask her that question “Nothing happened..” she paused for a moment. “Just got busy. That’s all.” You didn’t like the way she was talking to you like that. Maybe she was mad? “Are you oka-“

“Of course I’m ok.” Robin didn’t let you finish your sentence—interrupting you. She has never treated you like this. “Oh ok..” you responded soundly like a scolded little kid. “Well..” Robin said before she yawned. “See you at school tomorrow.” She said hanging up the phone.

The next day, you walked to school alone, you didn’t wait for her not after how she treated you last night.

You safely arrived at school, opening your locker. You for some things for your upcoming class. You closed your locker , and turned away. Robin was trailing behind you.

“Hi.” You said not too happy to see her.

Her smile faded away replaced with a frown at your tone. “Listen, I am so very sorry, ok? I don’t know what happened to me last night I swear I’ll make it up to you. Just forgive me please?I’ll do anything.” You looked at her she sounded sincere. Before you were going to respond, a Red head girl came up to Robin with a soft smile on her face. “Hey Robbie! You still up for tonight?” Robin looked stunned, she looked at you as if silently asking for help.

“Yep!I uh..can’t wait.” Robin replied hesitantly, as the girl walked away Robin turned to face you, you guys had plans together today. And Robin was going to ditch them for some other girl? How could she? GOR you don’t know when you going to keep on with this.

You glare at the girl as she walked off, This gesture didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“Are you-are you jealous?” Robin asked while putting her hand on your shoulder. Although you were going to respond Robin didn’t give you time to.

“Baby- that girl Vickie? She’s just a friend ok? Why else would I be dating you?” She reassured you. You nodded you wanted to believe her. You really wanted to. But you couldn’t bring yourself to.

A/n: I’ll probably write a part 2 of this gets enough likes and views and if you guys liked this. Just let me know 🫩😼

[classystudentpartyslime]

AN: Weirdly sapphic for no apparent reason

Culpable

"I hate how I fall to my sin, Entranced by your cursed gaze. This isn't right. I wake up in a cold sweat filled with regret. So you clear my sight."

I see her sitting there often, on the edge of my bed.

Her feet dangle above the ground, and she looks at me with some quality on her face that I cannot discern.

Her name, she says, is Guilt. She combs her wet hair idly, ankle-length strands yet again tangled by the time she reaches their ends.

I can't take my eyes off her, for some reason. She's well aware, because she smiles at me during the quiet moments when she does look my way, and, that smile on her face fills me with an inexpressible unease.

Sometimes she lies next to me, breathing on my neck, her pale fingers wrapped around my shoulders, her inky hair draped over my chest. Her skin is cold, and I freeze. I find that in her close company, I cannot speak. So she does as she pleases, without any care for my concerns.

I find myself often thinking of the first night she tried to strangle me in my sleep.

I had pried her hands off of me with great difficulty, gasping for that air of which I had been deprived, but there was nothing beyond her visage of serenity that could lead me to believe that she felt even a morsel of remorse for her actions. She then resumed her position on the edge of my bed, while I stared at her in abject horror.

I fear she will kill me, when the time is apt.

She follows me around, tailing me throughout the day. She sits on the table next to my plate, stands amongst my pile of clothes when i throw them at the foot of the mirror. Sometimes she reclines on the windowsill while I move about inside the house.

Other times, I find her to be on my person. I carry her on my shoulders. That is the position she most prefers, second only to lying by me in bed, according to what she has divulged to me. She says it allows her the most freedom, and that freedom is a limited thing, so she subtracts hers from mine. Since she is part of my being, she says, I have to compromise.

I pretend to understand.

So from her throne on my shoulder, she wraps her hands around my neck when I laugh too loud. When I cry, she covers my mouth so I cannot gasp. Covers my ears when someone tries to offer words of comfort, so that I do not hear. Shoves her fingers in my mouth when I try to speak my mind. She tugs on my hair to drag me away from many a thing.

It's rude, the way she steers me like a puppeteer. But I find myself conceding. She never wipes my tears.

I have a companion. An ill-wisher she may be, but a companion nonetheless. It is true that her loyalty lies with me, as long as I live. I can always turn to her when I have nobody else. Perhaps I have nobody else because she wills it that way. Perhaps she is the one to turn me towards herself. But those things are not for me to ponder, she says. So I concede.

I have grown accustomed to the scent of her hair. She has grown familiar with me. I can almost be certain now that I will find her waiting if I allow my thoughts to wander for a little amount of time.

She still makes attempts on my life. I find that I no longer mind. Things go back to how they are, and I go back to unrestful slumber.

One day she must kill me. I am certain of it now. Something about her being a part of my being? She says she subtracts her existence from mine. Guilt eats away at you, after all. She says, after she attains all of what she needs, she will divide it amongst her many selves and allocate them to her new bearers.

Since she accompanies me, she knows who these hosts will be. Ones that noticed her weight the most while she sat on my shoulder-throne, but did not acknowledge her presence, she says, are to be her next favourites.

Does that mean I too, am her favourite?

I am Guilt's favourite. She says I am held culpable, that she is here to punish me. I choose to filter out the words that follow after the first three.

She holds me. That is true.

Will she look at them the same, smiling between glances? Will she look the same to them, with her inky black hair, and that quality of her face the likes of which I cannot discern? Like a familiar figure from an unpleasant dream.

That is not for me to ponder, she says.

So I concede.

Tomorrow, I will offer to comb her hair.

___________________________________________

art by Yuzai

For the two people that read this far, I feel compelled to let you know that I was listening to La Ciruela while writing this