silvakochdostoe

[silvakochdostoe]

A bit more ReiBa lore👑🐺 This was their first special moment 💕

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The moment she realized he wasn't as careless as she thought...

Reina carries a lot of unhealed trauma-wounds she's never truly addressed. Every year, as the anniversary of her father's death approaches, it gets worse. She's more fragile than usual, more easily triggered, and the smallest thing can send her spiraling. When that happens, she gets trapped in her own mind.

She remembers that night all too well. The smell in the air, the exact temperature, every sound. It's all etched vividly into her memory.

In the worst moments, her panic attacks become overwhelming. Her chest tightens, her breath catches-she physically cannot breathe, no matter how hard she tries. Her body betrays her, and she just... collapses.

One day, when a particularly intense panic attack hit, she slipped into a room, hoping to endure it alone, in silence. But she wasn't alone-Baji was already there.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Can..You please...Get out?"

He didn't realize what was happening-at least, not yet. But in that moment, Baji begins to notice that something's not right. Reina is unraveling.

He notices the signs-Reina's breathing grows shallow, her hands tremble-she's about to have a panic attack. Without hesitation, he acts. He throws open a nearby window and pulls her toward it, urging her to breathe, to get air into her lungs.

But she still can't. Her body refuses to cooperate.

In desperation, Baji gives her a firm hit on the back-harder than he means to-just enough to jolt her into gasping. It works. She finally breathes.

And then everything breaks.

She collapses into a storm of sobs-scream- crying, shaking uncontrollably. It's more than just a panic attack now. It's years of pain flooding out of her all at once. Baji doesn't say a word. He just catches her, instinctively wrapping his arms around her, holding her as tightly as she needs.

For the first time in her life, Reina isn't alone after the storm.

Her mother had shut down after the loss. Her brother left. No one stayed. No one held her. Until now.

They end up on the floor. Baji sits with his back against the wall while Reina curls into him, between his legs, clutching his arm like it's her lifeline-like it's the only thing anchoring her to the world.

And Baji stays like that, completely still. He doesn't speak. He doesn't move. He just waits- until she's ready.

Thank you to my friend @silvakochdostoe for helping me rewrite the lore a bit💕

[silvakochdostoe]

Fyodor and Silva AND Jouno and Aiko 🥰♥️ Done by Mahiope on instagram!

[silvakochdostoe]

Dead Apple Kana

I saw a post with this official art and had to do a Kana version. I’ve been thinking about Dead Apple Kana, and I talked about her a bit. She basically has her elbow dislocated because her blood stream was forcefully manipulated to control her limbs, but after bleeding herself as a decoy so the ability couldn’t sense her, Kana was able to sneak up and take back her ability.

In the second slide, instead of having them face each other I chose to make Kana and Chuuya look like they’re walking away from each other because of the rift between them at this time. Kana feels scared to interact even though he’s expressed his understanding of her situation because she’s not used to interacting with people who know her secret. They aren’t walking too far though, since it’s right after the movie (about a day or so) that they actually get together :)

[silvakochdostoe]

Hello Kitty drip! Done by Akari!

[silvakochdostoe]

Protective husband :p artwork done by Akari on fb!

[silvakochdostoe]

Artwork done by: seiychu yu on Facebook!

[silvakochdostoe]

Kanako Yume’s Character sheet and info

Name: Kanako Yume

Age: 22

Organization: Port Mafia

Ability: Blood In Bloom

Allows the user to fully manipulate her blood, including the state of matter it’s in. She uses this to make weapons and perform sneak attacks, as well as evade enemies and other things.

“She is a flower that not only bloomed in the darkness, but was rooted in it. Even then, it still took such a horrid event to truly bring her into that darkness. However…there are still flickers of light in her soul, like stars.” — Ozaki Kouyou

To most, Kanako is a woman who doesn’t say much, and is nothing more than Chuuya’s “bodyguard”, which of course is subject to speculation. Although slightly infamous due to the scandalous nature of some of the work she does, Kanako has her place in the mafia with an army to command and close relationships with other members.

Kanako’s army is compiled of hard luck cases that she took pity on starting at 17. The army is less of an army and more of a faction that has no authority over anything in the organization, their only jobs are to follow orders. Kanako ensures that they’re taken care of by herself and Chuuya, however.

She’s more of an enigmatic person to the people who are actually close to her, as the more they try to understand the more confused they get. It’s an unfortunate cycle, she’s unable to show her true colors, resulting in pushing people away. It’s a shield that harms instead of protects, acting as a cage for her heart.

[silvakochdostoe]

My OC’s character sheet, and down below her lore/backstory/ability awakening: ⬇️

Silva was ten years old when her ability awakened,

Just ten—and she’d been happy that morning. Her scarf was red, her fingers a little numb from the cold, and she’d stolen a piece of chocolate from the kitchen for her little sister Shizu. She was supposed to go straight home.

But she wandered.

The abandoned docks were quiet, gray, littered with broken bottles and rusted chains. She liked the silence. Until it broke.

They surrounded her.

Six—no, seven men. Adults. Ability users. Scarred, twitching, high on something. Their eyes gleamed with something unclean. Predatory. Hungry.

“What’s a pretty little girl like you doing out here?” one crooned, stepping closer. His hands glowed faintly red—heat user. Another crackled with static. One had black eyes and claws.

She froze. The air thickened. Her legs refused to move

She didn’t know there was a world of supernatural powers, but now she does.

“Don’t scream,” another said. “It won’t help.”

She screamed anyway.

It didn’t help.

They were on her. Rough hands. One slammed her face into the concrete. Another tore her coat away. She felt the blade before she saw it—cold metal sliding across her back, slicing skin, over and over. She choked on her own sobs, her fingers clawing uselessly at the ground. Her blood ran hot down her spine.

“Still breathing?” a voice sneered, just before the knife slashed across her left eye.

Agony. Blinding, searing agony.

She couldn’t hear. She couldn’t see. Only pain.

But then—something else.

A low, pulsing sound beneath her skin. Like a heartbeat—but not her own.

The blood stopped falling. It started rising.

It listened.

The pain vanished. Not gone—replaced. By rage. A monstrous, pure kind of fury that took her tiny, broken body and twisted it into something new.

Her eye—burned red. The other glowed green like wildfire.

Then the screaming started.

Not hers. Theirs.

She didn’t move. She didn’t have to.

The blood flowed up—hers, theirs—turning into jagged tendrils, barbed blades, sickle-sharp whips. One man was torn in half before he could blink. Another’s chest caved in as a spear of blood impaled him through the sternum and burst out the other side. They tried to run. Their feet slipped in gore. One tripped and was dragged back by a crimson leash around his throat, flailing, clawing at air, before his body exploded into meat.

Her expression didn’t change.

She watched them die like it was a lullaby.

One man begged. “Please—please, stop! You’re just a kid, please—”

Her blood slashed his jaw off mid-sentence.

When it was over, the docks were painted red.

Three escaped. Broken, bleeding, screaming about a monster with one glowing eye and blood that moved like it had a mind of its own.

Silva stood in the center, her back a lattice of torn flesh, her eye a ruined mess of blood and tears. But she wasn’t crying anymore.

Her body trembled. Her hands were slick with gore. She looked down at her fingers, then at the shredded corpses twitching around her.

She didn’t understand what she’d done.

She just knew one thing:

She had become something terrifying.

And she would never be prey again.

That meant she had to hunt down and locate the rest that got away.

_____——_____

At fifteen, while her classmates obsessed over crushes and celebrity gossip, Silva was tearing through encrypted firewalls designed by military contractors. While they learned algebra, she was reverse-engineering black-budget surveillance software from four governments and rewriting it in six hours—better, sleeker, impossible to trace.

She had no formal training. She didn’t need it. Her brain devoured information. It wasn’t just intelligence—it was something else. Something unnatural.

Patterns glowed for her. Systems spoke. The moment she laid eyes on a network, she saw the architecture behind it, the cracks, the pressure points. Like blood vessels waiting to be pierced. And she did. Effortlessly.

They called it a gift. The psychologists, the government recruiters, even the hackers online who traded secrets with her and never knew they were talking to a teenage girl with one ruined eye and scars down her back. But Silva didn’t feel gifted. She felt haunted.

The attack when she was ten never left her.

She still heard the screams.

Still felt the blade.

And so, she controlled what she could.

She built her own systems from scratch. Modified keyboards to fit the speed of her thought. She wrote code like it was poetry—fluid, instinctive, laced with venom. Her personal rig had no brand. No OS. It was hers and hers alone. And it was alive with her blood.

Yes—blood.

Her ability had evolved. She could now interface directly with machines using thin strands of her own blood, magnetized and refined through years of brutal experimentation. Wires were clumsy. Silva’s veins were cleaner.

At sixteen, she hacked an underground weapons ring trafficking in children. She leaked everything to Interpol—after burning their funds and publicly doxing their leaders. Three suicides followed.

At seventeen, she took down a private mercenary company’s communications grid during a covert operation in Syria. No one ever knew how it failed. Only that it failed catastrophically.

Her files were ghosts. Her online identities were labyrinths. Even the best white-hat teams could only conclude she was either a government AI or a demon in human skin.

But inside, she was still that girl on the dock, bleeding, shaking, trembling with a power she barely understood.

She didn’t go to parties. She didn’t trust people.

She trusted data. Control. Isolation.

And still—her body was not done changing. Her blood whispered. It wanted to grow. Sometimes her skin would split during stress and release threads that slithered along the floor, searching. Curious. Hungry.

But she never let it loose again. Not fully. Not since that day.

Not until she met him, by fate, years later.

The man who would unravel everything, Fyodor Dostoevesky.

___—-___

Silva Koch also graduated at sixteen.

Officially, it was with highest honors, top of her class. Unofficially, she had already outgrown the curriculum by the time she was twelve.

By then, she’d rewritten portions of her school’s outdated network infrastructure just because the lag irritated her. She exposed a hidden surveillance subroutine planted in students’ laptops—by the school board—and dismantled it, anonymously dropping a report to the national press.

When she sat for her exams, the proctor swore he’d never seen a teenager answer higher-level math problems in seconds, without a calculator, while simultaneously reading from a law textbook and re-coding her own testing interface to be more efficient.

She was bored.

She completed four university degrees online before she could legally drink:

•Cybersecurity and Forensic Cryptology

•Applied Mathematics

•Political Science (focus: covert policy and digital warfare)

•Linguistics, because she liked pattern-mapping phonemes

She never showed up for classes. Never turned on her camera.

Her professors feared her.

Some respected her.

Most didn’t even realize she was a teenager until the national spotlight hit.

____—____

“NEMESIS” Appears in NATO Leak—World Governments Scramble to Identify Source

At seventeen, Silva—under the handle Nemesis01—intercepted a shadow op that would have used a social media algorithm to sway an election in a small Baltic country. Funded by two superpowers. Sloppy, arrogant.

She didn’t just expose it.

She hijacked the code.

She weaponized it to undo years of digital disinformation, and wrote a 94-page dossier analyzing the psy-op’s structure, weaknesses, and funding lines.

She sent it to NATO, Interpol, and the UN.

Not with her name. With a blood-red insignia: a single eye.

The world panicked.

Hackers tried to trace her. Blackhats and whitehats both. No one could.

Governments issued quiet invites.

Only a few got responses.

Germany got her first.

The Bundesnachrichtendienst recruited her under strict anonymity—not as an agent, but as a consultant.

She worked behind mirrored glass and biometric vaults, never in person. She built systems that could detect cyberwarfare attempts before the first packet even arrived. She predicted a data breach three months before it happened—down to the day. She corrected it with six lines of code.

She worked with the EU. With Japan. Even a few secret joint operations with the CIA’s cyber division—though she made it very clear she found their encryption practices embarrassing.

She never just took payments in cash.

Her fees were data. Access. Leverage.

Control.

___——___

By eighteen, she was untouchable.

They called her “The Blood Witch of Code.”

The “Ghost Cipher.”

“Red Nemesis.”

No one knew what she looked like.

Only that she was young, brilliant, and not entirely human.

And behind the digital veil, her blood still whispered—itching for something more.

For a purpose no system, no government, no firewall could satisfy.

Not until they found one another.

Not until fate brought them together.

But that wouldn’t be for another three years.

[silvakochdostoe]

ReiBa👑🐺

His one and only👑💕

Thats my Spouse🖕🏽

[silvakochdostoe]

HAAH YES LAWD YES:

I can just imagine them both separated in Meursault Prison and poor Dazai has to experience a serperated feening married couples pillow talk for god knows how long 😭😂✋🏽:

“Ich vermisse dich, Liebling. Ich sehne mich nach deiner Berührung…” Silva whispered, her voice laced with aching desire and something more dangerous—obsession. Her lips curved into a slow, soft smirk, like she already had him beneath her blade… or in her very shitty prison bed.

“Ya toskuyu po tebe, moya dorogaya myshachka~” Fyodor murmured back, his eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. “Ne mogu dozhdat’sya, kogda smogu zapoluchit’ tebya… ganz.” His smirk mirrored hers—dark, devouring.

Dazai, gagging in the background in his own orb: “Please. End me. Or them. Preferably both.”

[silvakochdostoe]

Here’s how my OC Silva reacts to the Helicopter ordeal.

A German Wife’s Wrath:

The air still stank of smoke and scorched metal. Flames danced in the distance, licking at the mangled remains of the helicopter like ravenous dogs. The explosion had shaken Meursault Prison to its core—but not as much as what followed.

Not as much as her.

Silva stepped into the clearing, the air around her hissing as it simmered around her, steam rising with every furious step from her bare feet. Her eyes blazed—a sickly emerald glow, furious and unnatural. Her long white hair whipped like storm-torn silk, red streaks flickering like embers.

She had seen the helicopter fall.

Had watched the fire swallow the wreckage.

Had heard the sickening crunch of steel and stone and silence.

And even though she knew—knew—he wasn’t dead, even though every cell in her body still thrummed with his pulse like a tether—

That didn’t stop the sheer, volcanic fury that rose in her chest.

“You think this is a game?” she snarled.

Dazai, Chuuya, and Nikolai turned. Too slow.

She was already lifting her hand.

The wind stilled. The air thickened.

Their bodies froze as they felt the shift—

A sudden, creeping heat that curled beneath their skin.

Chuuya winced. Dazai’s eyes narrowed. Nikolai’s grin flickered.

Silva’s voice came low and deadly, the kind of quiet that preceded mass death.

“You imbecilic, performative, arrogant scum.”

The blood in their veins heated. Not boiling—yet—but enough to burn. Enough to hurt.

“You dropped a helicopter with him in it and thought I’d just watch?” she hissed. “Thought I’d let it happen?”

Chuuya grunted, grabbing his arm. “What the hell—”

“I said don’t speak.” Her hand twitched, and their blood pulsed—hotter. Like molten iron flooding their arteries. “Do you know what I do to people who hurt him? Do you have any idea?”

Dazai gave a faint smirk, hiding the clench of his jaw. “You’re upset.”

“Upset?” she echoed, laughing—sharp and venomous. “You’re lucky I’m merciful. If I wasn’t, you’d be nothing but red mist.”

Nikolai tried to say something, some flippant remark—but choked instead, his mouth dry, nose bleeding now.

“I know it wasn’t you, clown,” Silva growled, stalking closer, “but you laughed, didn’t you? You enjoyed it. Watching it fall. Watching me break.”

Her power surged—heat tightening in their skulls, behind their eyes, in the marrow of their bones. It was intimate. Sadistic. Controlled.

“Do you know how it feels,” she whispered, stepping between them like a goddess of judgment, “to see the man I love burn—just to find out it was some elaborate circus act between a suicidal puppet and a red-wine thug?”

Chuuya bared his teeth. “We had to do it. It was part of the plan.”

Her eyes flared. “Your plan. Not mine. Not his.”

She released them.

The heat vanished. They stumbled, gasping, bleeding from their noses, ears ringing.

But she wasn’t done.

“You don’t get to play god with his life. He does. And me.” Her voice turned sharp. Cold. “You three are parasites clinging to the threads of genius. And if you ever try to script his death again—even pretend—I will pull every drop of blood from your body and make you watch as I write your names in it.”

She turned, hair catching the firelight like a banner of war.

“I’ll find him. You won’t know when. Or where. But he’ll be smiling when I arrive.”

Then she was gone—just steam and fury in the smoke-drenched area.

They stood in stunned silence.

Dazai exhaled shakily, wiping the blood from his nose.

“She’s so in love,” he muttered.

Nikolai wheezed.

“She’s going to kill us.”

Chuuya didn’t speak, too busy in his thoughts at the moment.

Because deep down, he knew—

She could.

Eventually, Chuuya did speak, still reeling in that pain only a blood manipulator could internally inflict-

“She’s as scary as Kana..Shit that hurt!”

[silvakochdostoe]

Part of the collab with my homies! Here’s all my parts, done by KAKTUS Yeet on fb!

[silvakochdostoe]

HAIHAI EVERYONE !!!

I was invited to be part of a musical collab hosted by @silvakochdostoe 🥹💖 so glad to be in it!! You all know me, so my choice was obvious. I drew Chuukana in Epic The Musical ⭐️

Everyone should go check out the rest of the entries as well!

Beauty and the Beast x Feysol from @/sunstar.writing

Grease x Reiba from @mamagooseart

Phantom of the Opera x FyoSil from @silvakochdostoe

Wicked x Bajira from @aryomengrande

I had a lot of fun with this! Here’s to many more collabs~

[silvakochdostoe]

── .✦ no—one mourns the wicked.

wicked x bajira — introducing keilphaba thropp and glindra upland for my first ever art collab with my IG mutuals: ship x musical ! rly had fun making this ♡ in the midst of having, well, a wicked state of mental health and in the process of healing, this really helped me get back into art ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

please also check out the entries of my lovely moots ! mass post right here

beauty and the beast x feysol from @/sunstar.writing

epic x chuukana by @katbloo

grease x reiba by @mamagooseart

phantom of the opera x fyosil from @silvakochdostoe

deets under the cut | © aryomengrande 2023

supposedly, i was gonna do keisuke as fiyero and i as elphaba (bc anyone who's watched the musical knows they're endgame) but like...keisuke is more elphaba-coded than fiyero-coded. elphaba strongly cared about the animals, was strong-willed, and as soon as she found out that the wizard was a fluke, she clocked out immediately. i identify with elphaba too but keisuke is literally a veterinarian in the future and once kisaki infiltrated toman, he left and called himself toman's enemy even though toman is so dear to him, which is reminiscent of elphaba leaving emerald city and accepting she has become the enemy of oz, even though that whole trip was her lifelong dream (੭ ;´ - `;)੭ ♡

i was like fine...i'll be galinda (the 'ga' is silent HAHAHA) besides being dramatic af, ig another similarity i share with glinda is that the mispronuncification of our real names irks us HAHAHA ofc for dr. dillamond it's understandable bc he's a goat but as for me most ppl would pronounce it wrong and then i'd have to correct them—sometimes ppl purposely pronounce it wrong js to tease me that's why i came up with 'rara' (yes it's my irl nickname). it's js the repitition of the last two syllables of my real name. lit js two letters duplicated, making it easier for y'all. *glinda voice* i'm so good, aren't i? no need to respond. that was rhetorical (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[silvakochdostoe]

My beloved FyoSil 🥰♥️ Animated by Edith on instagram!

[silvakochdostoe]

My beloved FyoSil.

🐁🐀Silva Koch-DosXFyodor Dos 🐁🐀

Artwork done by:

Dear darling on fb!

[silvakochdostoe]

“You'll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster...” -Phantom

Silva Koch DosXFyodor Dos as #christine and #phantom from #phantomoftheopera

Here’s part 1/3 of my musical collab I’m doing with my friends 🥰♥️ artwork done by my friend Kaktus Yeet (on fb) . Enjoy!