#i really hope i did her justice

[gilfodile]

In the name of Change, I'll punish you!!

[deva-arts]

Drawing more mutual ocs ehehe this time it's @fearofgodandtolkien's Idunn! I can't wait to see more stuff with her lol. Ty ty ty for being so cool!

[floralcrematorium]

I will not compare other beauty to mine, And I will not become a thorn in my own side

Belarus | Belgium | Czechia | Hungary | Liechtenstein | Monaco | Seychelles | Taiwan | Ukraine | Vietnam

read the tags before you repost, please

[starflungwaddledee]

some rather strong first impressions were made.

required reading for the magical "voice" headcanon and another for starstruck's signature in particular. asked by @trainerbob23 !

[simikae]

how to be a dog

happy umineko day(s). here’s to the actor hiding behind the wings

[tanoroe]

spare some ghostface duo lottienat pleek 🤲

here you go pookie congrats on being my first ever ask 😽😽 Jackie would deffo be Casey Becker but the real question is who would be Sydney Prescot and the rest of the gang

also since Lottie’s like 4 inches taller Nat’s gotta be wearing something like this so the heights match in their ghost face costumes and that thought makes me giggle so enjoy

[schwarzgeier]

Heloo so I read Kasuars replika page , made by @hummingjay and love em. Great replika OC ,I hope i did her justice :]

[ong-o]

Of all things Nintendo could’ve done, I’m glad it was turning Zelda into a furry

[breezysuffers]

Sam’s grandma has been on my mind recently, so I wanted to draw her!

Adeline In All Of Her Old Lady Glory!

[aimeeart3]

(Dub inspired version)

If Matoba was wrong about the spell on the window.

I loved these episodes and think Matoba throwing a chair is amazing, he was so confident about it but what if he'd been wrong? I made a silly comic in my sketchbook and deciding to fix it up to share^^

[zakura-ss]

Dancing under the starlight ☆

[headachecat]

Fellow Rookanis here, and Chaosfay on AO3. Here's a fee writing prompts to play with or combine:

"I've never kissed someone with a beard before."

"How did you keep the beard so neat in the Ossuary? Did you bathe and shave before taking on the Ventori?"

The first time Lucanis reaches out and comforts Rook.

The first time Lucanis reaches out and comforts Rook.

As a principle, Rook did not get upset.  It was one of those things Harding shared with Lucanis when he first joined the team. It was just the five of them at the time, and the Scout felt like it was her duty to fill him in. Bellara’s mind was in the clouds, but, by the Maker, was she brilliant in her expertise. Neve was always on the case, chasing another lead with a snarky comment locked and loaded. And Rook? There was not a moment a smile went absent from her lips. Not a second of doubt they couldn’t do it. There was simply nothing that could make her waver, make her break. And definitely nothing that could make her cry.

They had just saved Treviso from Ghilan’nain’s dragon, and Lucanis could have sworn he had never felt such a profound sense of gratefulness, a warmth that filled his heart and refused to fade for the first time in a very long time. That morning, he lingered in the pantry, scribbling away notes of thanks. The thoughts spilled from his mind and onto the parchment, words cascading like an untamed river, each stroke of his pen a desperate attempt to capture what words could barely hold. The scratching of the pen sent a delicate vibration up his fingers, as he crossed out yet another sentence, unsatisfied. The ink bled through the paper, leaving faint shadows on the pages beneath, echoes of thoughts too vast to remain contained. It seeped onto his skin, black stains blooming across his fingertips, as if to tattoo his feelings for the world to see. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Rook’s face –not her smile, bright and reassuring as always, but her eyes. They held everything: a will that could not be bent, compassion that refused to falter, care that brought his mind to her more and more recently nowadays.

’We will go to Treviso. We will defend it, whatever it takes. I promise.’

He felt a deep, aching pain in his chest with every beat of his heart. He owed her so much – more than he could ever hope to repay in a lifetime. His family, his home, the very fabric of his existence, all tethered to a singular choice. Words danced on the edge of his mind, but none ever felt worthy, none ever seemed to measure up.

How could he possibly tell her that she had saved his life? Not just the moments he cherished, the memories he had yet to create, but quite possibly his literal life as well. The enormity of it threatened to swallow him whole. How do you tell someone that they are the reason your world still turns? No words felt right. No words ever could.

It was just Lucanis in the Lighthouse, its ancient walls accompanying his quiet solitude as he awaited everyone’s return. That is, if you ignored the persisting presence of the demon lodged in his head. To keep his hands and mind from wandering too far into uneasy thoughts, he busied himself in the kitchen, the simple rhythms of preparation soothing him. When the time for the meeting finally drew near, and Rook was due to arrive back from Minrathous, Lucanis prepared something small for her. A cup of tea, her favourite, and a plate of Nevarran plums. Travel was exhausting, after all. She would be hungry, surely.

He placed them on the coffee table in her room, before retreating to the library’s upper level to await the others. Barely a minute went by when the sounds of boots on stone echoed up the tower’s cold, stone walls. The team had arrived, and Lucanis moved to meet them at the centre. But as their figures emerged into view, his heart sank, the stillness in the air pressing down on him. The clinking of metal weapons accompanied his companions’ slow steps, the silence so heavy it seemed to absorb every sound.

When his gaze fell on Rook, the ache in his chest deepened. She stood by the seating area, her usual energy absent, her presence subdued in a way that felt foreign. Her staff slipped from her fingers, dropping against the chair with a hollow clink that echoed in the quiet. There was no trace of her laughter, no sign of the effortless confidence that usually radiated from her when she stood with her hands on her hips, her head held high, a spark of hope lighting her every movement.

Instead, she turned with heaviness, nodding briefly to Harding and Bellara as they passed her, their quiet words barely breaking the stillness. Davrin appeared next, emerging from the staircase leading to the Eluvian room, his form tense, his sword clutched tightly in his hand as though it grounded him. And then Rook’s eyes finally met Lucanis.

The Crow lifted his hand in a gentle greeting. Rook cleared her throat, her voice breaking through the thickness of the air. ‘Right. I suppose we should talk about it.’ She was being careful, navigating a fragile thread that could snap at any moment. 

By the entrance, Bellara stood with her hand resting against her lips, her composure strained and delicate. Lucanis wasn’t certain, but it seemed as though she was fighting back tears. Her shoulders trembled faintly, and Harding, standing close beside her, reached out to pet her arm in a quiet gesture of comfort. The Scout let out a sigh, heavy with shared grief, as if trying to soothe both Bellara and herself at once. ‘Neve is staying in Minrathous for now,’ Rook continued, her tone steadier for a moment, ’The Shadow Dragons… could not defend the city as well as I had hoped.’

Lucanis turned his attention back to Rook, studying her carefully. She placed her hands on her hips, a familiar pose that should have felt reassuring, but this time it didn’t. Her fingers curled around her armour just a little too tightly, the slight tremor in her hands betraying the tension she was trying to mask. It was as though she were forcing herself to embody the unshakable presence they all relied on, struggling to be who they needed her to be. Who they expected her to be.

For a fleeting second, Lucanis’s thoughts drifted back to Harding’s words, her voice ringing in his memory. Rook doesn’t break. But now, standing before her, he couldn’t shake the gnawing doubt creeping into his mind, the uneasy certainty that for the first time in a very long time, Rook had reached her limit.

‘Please, rest well. We will discuss next steps once everyone’s ready,’ Rook said, her voice soft, her smile tender but weary. She followed Bellara and Harding with her gaze as they made their way out of the room, the quiet shuffle of their departure accompanied by murmured words Lucanis couldn’t catch. Davrin lingered, giving Rook a short, shallow bow, a gesture of respect. As he passed her, he slowed, ‘In war, victory, Rook. Whatever it takes.’

Rook nodded in response, a flicker of acknowledgment passing between them, and the Warden turned, his footsteps echoing faintly as he trailed out of the library. The door creaked shut behind him, the sound sharp against the quiet. A draft followed in his wake, a whisper of cold air slipping into the room.

Rook closed her eyes as if bracing for something more – perhaps the whistle of the wind, the mournful howl that might signal an ending to this meeting. But no sound came. The Lighthouse stood resolute, unmoving, the last steady thing around them. Perhaps, in the face of so much loss and uncertainty, the Lighthouse was all they had.

‘Rook,’ Lucanis stepped forward quietly, all his carefully thought-out words evaporating the moment he opened his mouth. ‘I wish to say…’ Rook opened her eyes, studying him silently. Her smile lingered on her lips, but Lucanis could see now what he hadn’t before – it no longer reached her eyes. It was faint, her usual warmth dulled into something distant. It struck him like a brushstroke gone astray on a painting, a flaw only noticeable when you looked closely. Perfectly devastating.

‘I wish to thank you,’ Lucanis exhaled at last. The words felt small in the grandness of the space. ‘Thank you for saving my home. It is… perhaps the only piece of me I know anymore, after the Ossuary. And I am eternally grateful for that. I am at your service, whatever you wish of me.’

Rook’s smile widened slightly, a practiced kindness softening her expression as she stepped forward. She reached out, her fingers wrapping gently around his arm in a reassuring squeeze. ‘Of course.’ she said, her tone light, almost effortless. But Lucanis’s brow furrowed as he caught it – a faint tremble in her hand, a subtle shiver in her fingertips she tried to hide.

‘Perhaps a dinner?’ she added, her voice suggesting joke, joined by a soft laugh that seemed uncertain, rough around the edges. It was her usual lighthearted way, a balm she offered to ease tension, but it felt different now. There was something about her in that moment, something distant and foreign. The jest hung in the air, but it didn’t settle, like a fine layer of sand swept up by the sea breeze, abrasive and unsettling. Rook shifted, her eyes flickering for a moment. They both felt it. The air grew thick, charged with an electric hum. Lucanis felt it like a shiver running down his spine, a familiar sensation that tugged at his instincts, pulling at his focus. Spite emerged from the dimness, his translucent form barely visible in the faint glow of the crystal light. With a long, deliberate breath, Spite let out a soft hiss of disgust, his face contorting in a sneer. ‘Regret,’ he spat, the word hanging in the air like a foul stench. He threw himself into the nearby chair with an exaggerated motion, ‘Terrible smell.’ Lucanis felt the coldness spread in his chest, a creeping chill that began as a subtle tightness and quickly grew into something more suffocating. It trailed down through his waist, his legs, his feet, burning with an icy dread that wrapped itself around him like chains. Regret. Fear. Doubt. A prison of its own. It was a familiar weight, one that clawed its way through his thoughts, dredging up the dark memories he had fought so hard to bury. The sleepless nights in the Ossuary, when exhaustion blurred the edges of his mind and the wet rags he wrapped around himself did little to ease the cold. He had tried to shield his ears from the screams of the prisoners, but they haunted him, unrelenting. Why them and not you? Why do you deserve to live? The questions crashed through his mind like thunder, each one louder than the last.��You should have seen it coming. You should have killed yourself before they took you, like a real Crow would.

Lucanis reached out instinctively, his hand settling gently on Rook’s wrist, meant to offer reassurance, but as soon as his fingers brushed against her skin, he felt the tension ripple through her arm. Her lips parted as though she meant to speak. But the words never came. Instead, her breath hitched, and she held it, looking down at her feet. 

’Forgive me,’ she breathed out shortly, And then, in one swift motion, she pulled away from him, stepping past him with a sudden urgency that left him standing, still and unsure. Her staff clattered to the floor with a sharp, jarring sound, the clang ringing in Lucanis’ ears like a discordant note. Rook didn’t look back at it.

For a split second, Lucanis stood frozen, his heart beating in the rhythm of the weapon swaying on the stone. And then, with a sudden clarity, a single thought tumbled through his mind. She did not deserve to go through it alone. He stepped aside, his movement a blur – faster, swifter, determined He blocked Rook’s path, arms wide as if to contain her. She gasped, her body crashing against his, and in that instant, his embrace closed around her, tight and sure. They swayed for a heartbeat, finding balance, and Lucanis felt her legs tremble beneath her, threatening to give way.

A cry tore through the vast expanse of the library, its sound so raw and piercing, it seemed to shake the very air – a wail so haunting it could have been mistaken for the roar of a beast. They fell to their knees, drawn together, clinging to each other in desperate need of support. Rook’s body quivered, tensing as the waves of torment crashed through her, relentless and suffocating. Lucanis felt her scream vibrate against his shoulder, her fingers digging into the back of his vest, sharp as claws, desperate and frantic. Her pain consumed him, a fire that threatened to burn away all else. For a moment, he feared her. No, that wasn’t quite right. He feared for her. 

His hand drifted gently to the back of Rook’s neck, her curls winding around his fingers, as if they sought to hold him back, to keep him away from her. He wouldn’t let them. The warmth of her skin radiated beneath his touch, a subtle heat that made his fingertips dance over the smoothness of it, feeling the soft rise of goosebumps in their path. He began to caress her, slow and tender, as though time itself had stilled around them. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against the side of her temple, grounding himself in the sensation of her presence. Guiding her breath. Reassuring her racing mind. He allowed her the space to cry her pain away, to take her time, to steady herself – there was nothing of greater urgency. They didn’t talk, for there was nothing to be said. Everything he wished to ask, to explore, to understand, it was all in her voice. In the shudder of her body, the pain of her emotion.

He couldn’t say how long it had been before Rook’s sobs began to soften, the raggedness of her breath gradually easing into quiet sniffles. Her hands had found their place around his waist, gripping him with vulnerability he hasn’t seen from her before, while her fingers traced the edge of his vest in a slow, absent rhythm, as if the motion itself were a grounding force, bringing her slowly back to herself. Caught in the moment, he found his own fingers weaving through the strands of her hair, his touch gentle, natural and tender. His index finger brushed the delicate curve of her ear, the softest contact, yet it made her ear twitch in response. The sensation surprised him, and he pulled his hand away just a bit too fast. He opened his eyes.

Rook lifted her head, her tear-streaked face flushed and red, her eyes still glistening. Lucanis could feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek, unsteady and shaky. Yet he refused to pull away. He would stay until she was ready, until she found her footing again. Until she decided it was enough. She reached up, her fingers trembling as they brushed against her ear, a quiet, broken chuckle escaping her lips. It was a sound that was more of a sigh than anything else, exhausted, vulnerable  humour. ‘It does that sometimes... like a cat’s ear.’ Her gaze wandered over his face, lingering on the way their bodies were entwined, the intimate closeness that neither had expected. ‘Forgive me. Again. I’m uncertain what happened–‘

‘Rook,' Lucanis interrupted her softly, his hand moving to cup the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. For a moment, he paused, lost in the simplicity of the gesture, marvelling at how effortless it felt to hold her so close, how completely natural it came to him, like with no-one ever before. It was as if the world had folded around them, and only in that stillness did his thoughts finally catch up to him. Yet even then, he refused to let them overtake him – not when Rook still needed him. She shifted slightly in his arms, and he drew his gaze up to meet hers. ‘You have made an impossible choice,’ he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within. ‘I meant what I said. Whatever you wish of me. Whenever you need... my help. I will be there.’ Her eyes shimmered with the soft light of the crystal hanging above them, the glow reflected in the deep haze of her pained eyes. ‘I cannot ask that of you,’ she chuckled weakly, as her usual demeanour fought to come back to light.

‘I insist. Anything.’

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze falling away, as though weighing her next request. When she finally spoke again, her voice was different. Her Trade Tongue’s accent dropped ever so slightly, and her Nevarran lilt curled around the edges of her words, as if it was only now she allowed him to see her truly for the first time. ‘Can you call me by my name? Tell me everything will be all right? I wish to believe it... if only for a moment.’ 

Her request felt like the softest blanket, wrapping around Lucanis’ shoulders and across his heart. And in that moment, all he could feel was the quiet ache of wanting to protect her, to fight for her, to care for her. To give himself away to her will. He closed his eyes again, swaying gently with her in his arms, as though the rhythm of his movements could bring the lost memory back to him. And then, like a flash of clarity through the haze, it came to him. A name, soft and foreign, whispered in the heat of battle as they fought their way toward freedom. It was a name that had lingered in his mind, unspoken until now. Pleasant to the ear, yet strong in its means. A strength that mirrored her own. It was fitting, somehow – perfect in its simplicity and its power. He tasted it on his tongue, letting the sound roll gently over his lips, savouring the moment. It was sweet and proper, a name that could become a part of him, if only for a lifetime. He breathed in, steadying himself before speaking it aloud, the words falling from his lips like a promise, like a tender reassurance.

‘Everything will be all right, Hissera.’

––– More of Lucanis taking care of Rook:

[myokk]

The girls💓

Eloise: me

Violette: @syaolaurant

Milena: @sparxyv

[amusingmusie]

I know it's not going to happen but what do you think a child between Nel & Alastor would be like? Personality wise or appearance

History Repeats Itself

This is goddamn ridiculous.

Heels click against shiny vinyl flooring as Nel tears off down the hallway, speeding past flyers promoting honors ceremonies and painted murals of happy children. Pushing open door after door and stomping hard enough to make her knees shake, she does nothing to hide her rage over such a bullshit situation. Her fingers twitch with the need for a goddamned cigarette, but she doesn’t trust herself to not light this private school aflame with it. Oh no, she’s not chancing that, not when she’d ruin the career she fought to earn and the schooling she pays out the ass for in one fell swoop. 

Her warpath only halts when she reaches a thick wooden door simply labeled as Dean’s Office. It’s becoming increasingly familiar as of late. With a barely contained growl, she knocks the door open, steps into the room, and prepares for battle.

“She is evil!”

“That’s a strong word. I prefer the term strong-willed instead.”

“Shut it! You’re a malignant tumor on this school!!!”

“Wow, that was a good one. You’re improving your vocabulary, congratulations!”

“DEVIL!”

“You know, anything you say can be held against you in court, I’d mind your words if I were you.”

“WE ARE NOT IN COURT!!!!!”

Nel watches a teenage girl hiss and spit pure venom with all the rage of a feral creature. Her dark eyes are blazing with unfiltered fury, something Nel herself recognizes all too well. There’s no need to ask what has her raging- oh no, Nel is aware of the issue, she sure fucking knows exactly who is responsible for this mess. 

Turning on her heels, Nel stares down the little shit sitting primly in a chair by the flabbergasted dean. Not a curly hair is out of her place on her head, with each chocolate strand pinned neatly back with a stylish bow. Quickly, she gives a small pat to her immaculate bumper bang like she’s brushing away some invisible dust that could possibly disrupt her picture-perfect image. 

She’s a doll with smooth caramel skin and large hazel eyes. 

She’s adorable with pearly white teeth and freckles dotted across her cheeks. 

She’s precious with her long, poofy skirt and long, poofy hair.

She’s perfect.

Except, her mother knows better. Oh, does she ever know better. 

“Sweet Christ,” Nel sighs with something that isn’t quite disappointment, but certainly isn’t glee. Nobody has breathed a word of what events called her down to the private school, again, but she’s certain that her spawn is somehow responsible because she is always responsible when chaos occurs. “Evie. What in the hell is going on here?”

“Momma, there you are!” Bouncing out of her seat, Evie skips over to her mother without a care in the world. She doesn’t bat an eye at her classmate glaring daggers at her or the dean blinking in exasperation since she’s too busy sidling up to her revered birth-giver. “Listen, this is all a big, silly mix-up. I’m completely innocent-”

“Lies-!”

“It was Roxxy who dumped the paint on her own bag to frame me-”

“NO, I DID NOT-!”

“Because why would I ever do such a terrible thing?” Looking for backup, she moves her gaze to the dean, who simply nods his head in slight agreement. “I would never jeopardize my perfect record with the threat of a conduct mark, and for what? To upset my good friend Roxxane with a ridiculous prank?”

“We are not friends!” the other teen growls, her skin turning an intense shade of crimson from the wrath boiling in her bones.

“You’re right, we’re best friends! Thank you for reminding me,” Evie chirps, her toothy smile growing wider.

Nel swats away unfortunate flashbacks that threaten to overtake the moment. 

“Okay, kid, put a pin in it. Just, God, come on, we’re leaving, now. Go.” Once her daughter departs from the room with a final wave to her so-called friend, Nel stares at the dean. “Stop calling me for this bullshit. I pay this school too goddamn much money to run up here each time there’s an issue with these two- next time, deal with it.”

The door slams shut behind her, and she marches on. 

Leather pumps and leather oxfords click together in time down the hallway. 

“What on God’s green earth possessed you to do that?” Nel scoffs, not pausing her march to freedom for a moment. It hardly matters since her kid already has at least an inch on her, because of course she does, her legs are more than long enough to keep up with the redhead’s shorter stomps. “Dumping paint on someone’s bag? Shit, did you just forget any home training I gave you?”

“Momma!” Evie gasps in offense, her round eyes going wide. “You don’t believe in my innocence?”

“No.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Just like that, the act drops and she shrugs, clicking her shiny saddle shoes on the floor. “But I didn’t do it for fun. Well, maybe I did, but she also deserved it.”

“You cannot continue to terrorize that girl. This is the third time that there’s been an incident in the past five weeks. Every time you get yourself into a mess, I gotta hightail it up here to drag you home, and that’s time I lose with my clients, and that’s money I lose to spend on you. You think it reflects positively on me when I’m unable to run my firm because I’m wrangling my daughter?”

“I know, but-“

“Genevieve Marie Sheridan-“

“You don’t understand!”

“Then enlighten me.” 

“She’s terrible!” Uncharacteristic irritation crosses over Evie’s sharp facial features, contorting them into a disgruntled expression eerily similar to the one worn by the ginger walking next to her. “I’m telling you, I have never met someone so absolutely dull and unpleasant in all my life! Sure, I’ve only been alive for fourteen years, but I’ve had a worldly fourteen years!”

“Oh, really now?”

“Momma, forget the details! What I’m trying to explain to you is that she is awful, so I’m attempting to help her become less awful with some harmless fun.”

A familiar feeling creeps along Nel’s skin. It’s a distant feeling, one she hasn’t felt in nearly fifteen years, but it’s one she can never forget, not ever. It’ll haunt her til the day she dies, and long after that too. 

Cold realization begins to dawn on her.

“...What makes this girl so bad?”

“What doesn’t?” the teen snips, rolling her eyes. “She always has to argue with me or oppose me, she can never just listen to anything I say! I don’t understand. Everyone else loves me- as they should, I’m amazing.”

“Mhm.”

“But not her! Never her. She’s been against me since we moved here, what, seven years ago? All because everyone adores me due to my benevolent nature and because she’s an envious ball of rage with no friends.”

“Mhm.”

“And I always think of how repulsive she is, especially at the worst times! Did you know that I dreamed of her nasty little face the other night? She’s a true nightmare at this point. I can’t escape her even in my sleep.”

“I bet.”

“So, in conclusion, she is my number one enemy, and I will destroy her.” Evie raises her upturned nose into the air with a slight huff. “In completely legal ways, of course. Such as kindness. And a few ink bombs too.”

There it is. 

Pausing at the front of the school, Nel faces the little turd fully, her initial anger fading. Hell, she can never stay mad at the kid for long; that’s her baby, no matter how tall she grows or how ruthless she becomes. 

When Evie returns her mother’s softening gaze with a kind one of her own, Nel swallows down an old sadness that’s taken root inside of her. It’s been there for years, always hovering like a ghost in the background, always lingering no matter how long she ignores it. But, its presence isn’t so heavy with her kid here, even if she wears a dead man’s face and speaks in his same chipper tone. 

It would be just like Alastor to have a child so eerily like himself. He could never quit the game; he’d always leave some version of himself behind to plague Nel. 

Fitting. He always had to have the last laugh.

“You know, I know a thing or two about having an enemy.”

“Oh, like the DA?”

“No, not that son of a bitch, though he’s worthless,” she grumbles. “No, I had someone else I swore to destroy a long time ago.”

“Well, did you?” she asks, and Nel gives her a strained, tired smile. 

“Yes and no. That’s a story for another day. For now, all I’ll tell you is that you need to be careful, and that maybe you should spend some time using that big brain to decide what you really think of this nemesis of yours.”

“Well, I hate her. I don't need to think about that.”

Nel rolls her eyes. “No doubt, but hate can sometimes…ah, fuck it, I’ll save it.” With a shake of her head, she waves away her words. “You’ll figure it out, baby. Now come on, we’re getting the hell out of here. Goddamn ridiculous school.”

“Yes ma’am!” Evie skips along happily next to Nel, contagious cheer radiating off of her. “We need to go anyway. I’d like to be at least down the block before the dye bomb I placed in Roxxy’s locker detonates.”

“...The what?”

There’s a distant pop, and then a muffled scream from deep inside of the school building.

Evie blinks innocently, and then Nel sighs. 

History always repeats itself. 

[affluent-havoc]

It's time for the fiend! Spoilers of course

For one, Syo here actually breaks the formula I have with these designs, Syo not really working or going out most of the time unless she's heavily disguised. However, I tried my best to ensure she was given some love! So, for her "casual" attire, it's rather simple looking. It's got some LORE though with Syo trying to reform from her murdering days and Komaru helping out in making this outfit! Most of the materials are just thrifted such as the boots with the rest being slightly modified. It holds up rather poorly and has it's flaws. However, Syo seems to like it. Toko, not so much. Toko finds it ugly, no matter how much Komaru tries to give her the puppy eyes, asking for Toko to give it a chance. I also want to take note the bracelet she has on as well as the hat. I thought it would also be cute if Komaru made her a little friendship bracelet. Toko also has one but she finds it childish to just be wearing it out an about (she's not really into much jewelry anyway). Thus, Toko just keeps it on her nightstand. Syo, however, fears nothing and has no shame. Speaking of which, the hat. I was a little lazy with the details but it is indeed one of those "Woman love me, Fish fear me" hats. Syo did the embroidery on it (Syo being oddly good with crochet and sewing) and Toko despises. And, the worst part is that Syo did an amazing job on it which makes Toko hate it even more whenever she ends up in it after Syo finishes fronting. Toko's at least a bit grateful though that Syo doesn't go out that much. Toko is already mortified waking up in the outfit. It'd be way worse to be waking up in one of the ugliest garments present in the apartment while in public. As for Syo's "work" attire, it's just Toko's attire for work with slight Syoifications (Jackifications?) made with the zipper being undone revealing a little pouch she has on, and sleaves rolled up. She even has Toko's purse worn slightly different as well! Thought it would be cute to do! Also, for the pouch, Her iconic scissors are absent, being held deep in a vault somewhere with Byakuya as a safety precaution. Syo doesn't mind too much though. For one, she knows they're safe even though she likes to joke that Byakuya's doing unspeakable things with them which he just sighs at. Additionally she's not planning on murdering anyone anymore as I feel she holds pride in her killing SPECIFICALLY with those scissors. So, she wouldn't be using any random pair. But also, her being reformed and all. Besides, the scissors being held in the care of Byakuya it's not because of the potential of Syo starting all over again with the murders anyway. It's more about the potential of the whole "Toko is Genocider Syo and is a serial killer" thing coming out and as a way of showing that Byakuya does care for Toko, aloofness or not. I like to headcanon that, though footage of the Killing game were indeed broadcasted, for one, the Future Foundation were the main people to see it. Additionally, the average civilian would probably not a bit too busy trying to save their own lives than to be keeping up with the news regarding the Ultimate's in Hopes Peak. Not saying that some of that info wouldn't be able to get out. Some of it certainly could have and added to the despair and all. As to regards on where the footage is held, it's with Future Foundation in partner with Byakuya. Perhaps a bit of Kyoko their too and a bit of Makoto as well though I feel all the survivors pitched in on having the say on what to do with it. After all, it IS the recording of all their Hopes Peak trauma, though I don't think they'd want to destroy it oddly enough. This concept of course has room to change but these are the main thoughts Plus, it's fun to think about as, with Syo in the picture in this AU, the concept of whether the people know or don't know about the whole "notorious serial killer Genocider Syo is sorta just an alter of Toko Fukawa" is something that has to be addressed to SOME extent .

For her physical build, it's just Toko's. What really changes is the undergarments anyway. Though they are not colored her, they are very much bright red, very garish. All of her undergarments are which contrasts with Toko's more frilly and pretty undergarments. One other bit to mention is Syo's hair! It's nothing too crazy, just Toko's hair out of the pony tail and ruffled to high hell! Syo makes it work though.

That's Syo done! Hope I did her justice! Tried my best ;-; (1) | (6)

[w3ndytheraccoon]

u/awholelottaspoon

Am I the asshole for killing my teammate ?

This is going to be very long. My friends and I had been thrown into this hunger-gamesque death game that was cut up into “sessions” that lasted a few hours where we have multiple lives, but the twist this time was every session, there would be a “wildcard”. The wildcard sounds exactly like what it is, a special thing that usually makes our lives harder. Now, I’m not proud to admit this, but I was the first out, during the fifth session. I thought that was it, I died, then I’m out of the game and I’ll wake up in my bed, waiting the next time the eldritch beings decided they want me in another death game, but no. This time, I wake up in a dark void instead, and it only became more confusing when my friend and Teammate SM joined me. So we sit around and waited for a while, until one day, we were pulled away violently. Like, ripped away from the void and we woke up back in the game, and considerably weaker than we were before. Turned out it was the seventh session, and the wildcard was everyone had a superpower, and we were brought back because one of the powers, ZC’s, was necromancy. Fitting, considering they’re an undead, and I wonder what power I could’ve had, or her power if no one died, but I digress. Since they brought us back, we had to follow their orders, simple enough. Strangely though, our first order was to go “throw the lamest insults we can possibly manage” at our friend (bestfriend, in my case) and only teammate alive left, G. He was so happy to see us it actually made me feel abit bad when we made fun of him. Turned out, G’s power was that he could copy anyone’s power for five minutes, so after some discussing with his new temporary teammates and us, he copied ZC’s power and brought us back, which means we were under his control instead. It was all fine, until we died again and was brought back by ZC. She wasn’t happy, to say the least, and declared us traitors. Since we were at her control and our “lives” depended on them, we denied all fault and blamed G instead. She thought about it for a moment, then said we had to kill him. Well, orders are orders. Between me and SM, I decided to do it. I approached him, told him ZC said we can stay with him for abit, and he was visibly very happy about it, which did not help my guilt very much. When he had his back turned while he was fishing, I burnt him using lava and then got out my axe and hit him with it until he died, which prompted GT, one of his then teammates who was nearby, to killed me as well. G wasn’t very happy about it when he came back, he killed SM and me and called me a “filthy traitor” as he did, which, once again, did not help my guilt. It felt even worse when I was finally back to thankfully not the void but my home instead, since the session ended the moment I died, and SM cracked a joke about us being “bad teammates”. I’m sure he was referring to the fact we were bad at staying alive and were bad teammates to ZC and her allies, but it felt different after what just happened. The game is over at the moment, we’re all back home and G and I are cool now, but I can’t help but wonder. At first I thought since it wasn’t my choice, I’m not in the wrong, but the more I think about it, the more options I realised I could’ve take, like failing on purpose maybe. My friends told me that while it was slightly traumatic, it really wasn’t that serious, even G himself, but am I the asshole ?