#dc143c

My name is Karl! I'm an 20 year old transmasc who draws fanart!

I also write fanfics!:

The Part You Played (TPYP)

Paint Your White Walls Red (PYWWR)

CODE LAVENDER (code-lav)

Fandoms I like:

Danganronpa

Shuten Order

Genshin impact

But dont be put off by my, albeit toxic, fandoms! I am heavily critical of the good and bad of these medias and I always want to make the world a better place!! So let's get along!!

[P.S. Ask box is open, so don't be afraid to come say hi! I do writing and drawing requests!]

Lavender vs. Lilac.

Crimson's hex code.

Red vs. Pink.

It's a flash of a blade that sets Mukuro free. A slash of a blade and deep, red eyes. He flashes a grin as sharp as his knife, and she can't help but think of her sister.

The boy spits out a number before rummaging around the director's office, throwing books and files onto the blood soaked floor. He keeps mumbling, but Mukuro can't make out his words.

He finally makes it to the director, pausing as he stares down at the man. The director turns to her, plea about to fall from his lips, but the boy interrupts.

"I've long contemplated whether the casualties of war counted as murder." He takes a few steps closer to the helpless director, watching him squirm. "But, with the things you do? The things you take advantage of? Well, I would never consider it a passionate killing."

drkk/raincode au

It wasn't until a black haired boy tears through Fenrir, slaughtering her captors, that she begins to hope. She watches as he spills their blood, painting the dirt like he was Picasso. (She wonders if her sister would like that comparison, or would she find it too on the nose?)

Despite her title, she was completely stuck under Fenrir's claws. They had ripped her away from her sister, bounding her in red ropes, tying her to their group. They forced contracts with her, ordering her to reap the battlefields.

They promised to release her, but they keep passing her down, like a cheap heirloom. A promise that was never meant to be kept.

Instead they use her, celebrate the victories she has brought them as their own.

She has killed hundreds of thousands, not sparing a single human in her path. Ignoring their pleas, ignoring their screams, she does not hesitate to kill.

However, she takes her orders seriously. She does not leave room for failure, does not kill recklessly. It's precise, it's planned, it's perfected.

For she is a Death God.