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sneez · 1 year

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more of my oc tervis (any pronouns), the creepiest most miserable little weirdo in town. which is saying something [id under cut]

/ ID: four digital drawings.

The first image is a series of drawings of Tervis on a paper-textured background. A heading at the top reads 'Tervis (Humble)'. One is a coloured headshot of Tervis looking to the left; they have a gaunt face, short receding hair, a scar bisecting their lip and right eyebrow, greyish skin, and are wearing a red shawl around their neck. An arrow pointing at their right eye reads 'one blue eye (mostly blind)'; another arrow pointing at their left eye reads 'one brown eye'. They have a serious, hostile expression. The second drawing is an uncoloured full-body sketch of Tervis. Next to this is the same drawing but coloured and with more polished lineart. Tervis is a thin, hunched figure wearing a long, dark brown robe, a greyish bag on their back, and a red shawl around their head and neck. They are barefoot, and are leaning on a walking staff with both hands. An arrow pointing to the walking staff reads 'needed for walking, useful for hitting'. Tied to the belt around their waist are several long scrolls of paper with writing on them. An arrow pointing to the scrolls reads ''blessings' they paste on infected houses'. Tervis is looking warily out at the viewer from beneath their eyebrows. An arrow pointing to their head reads 'scar from getting hit in the face with a brick (also knocked out a tooth)'. Alongside these drawings are a series of bullet points giving information about Tervis. These read:

indeterminate age, indeterminate gender

religious fanatic (unclear which religion)

lives alone somewhere in the steppe

dislikes everyone but is nicer to children than anyone else

has every disease

The second image is a fake screenshot from the video game Pathologic. Tervis is looking out at the viewer; the background shows scenery from the steppe. The text on screen reads:

CHANGELING: I still don’t see what you could have done that would make you personally responsible for this plague. TERVIS: Responsible… no, not merely responsible! This is my plague, cast upon my head alone. I am the originator; my sin is at the root of all. I have ventured into the town. I have seen the canker there. No matter how many houses I bless, my sickness sinks deeper. The rotted limb is the death of the body… Surely you understand me. You are a healer, are you not? CHANGELING: What is it that you are asking me to do? TERVIS: Let me be the lamb, worker of miracles! My blood shall wet the earth, and bright flowers shall grow… My putrefaction will provide the soil within which new life will burgeon, pure and free of sin and decay. Let it be done. I am ready. My failing flesh is but little sacrifice; in death my weakness will be my strength. Soon these torments will be at an end.

Below are two dialogue options:

You’re insane!

What makes you so sure your death would solve anything?

The third image is a fake screenshot from the video game Pathologic 2. Tervis is looking out at the viewer, and has been painted in semi-realistic style. The text on screen reads:

Tervis: Why do you force me to live? Damn you! Your cure is poison to me. Now I shall never be blessed. You should have left me to bleed.

Below are three dialogue options:

Don’t be absurd. I wasn’t going to watch you die.

What makes you think you deserve suffering?

I wish I had.

At the bottom of the image is a line of dialogue which Tervis has just spoken:

The air is foul. There is rot in this place. The stench of corruption shall be – what was it? What was it? The stench of corruption shall be… swept aside…

The fourth image is a coloured scene depicting Tervis and Clara. They are central in the composition; around them is the steppe, which has been rendered in a loose, painterly style. Tervis is kneeling, their walking staff cast aside, and are reaching out their hands to Clara in a desperate, pleading gesture. They are crying, their face contorted in an expression of agonised ecstasy. Clara stands beside them, one hand reaching out, the other held above Tervis’s head as though about to touch their brow. She has a solemn, pained expression. Behind her head, a break in the dark clouds gives the impression that she is haloed by sunlight; rays of the same light fall onto Tervis, illuminating their face and red robe. End ID. /

#artwork #pathologic #tervis!!!!!!!!!!!! :-D #sorry i know ive already posted that fake p2 screenshot i just wanted to keep all my tervis images in one place. please forgive me #i am having. So Much Fun. i would explode and die for tervis shes the worst i adore her #making fake screenshots is so enjoyable i love trying to match the fonts and copying all the little ui details it's so fun highly recommend #i have a lot of tervis lore which i am still developing but hopefully these drawings give you some idea of his character #hes just a mess really. hes got every imaginable problem #that last drawing is her getting sacrificed in the humble ending. she is SO happy about it #also if you didnt see my last post tervis was originally a warhammer 40k oc (which he still is ive just made a bonus pathologic tervis now)#but ive tried to keep a lot of 40k stuff in her design like the blessing scrolls and the uh. Posture #that's also my reasoning for why nobody knows what his religion is. the watsonian explanation is they are just spouting incomprehensible #disjointed passages from some obscure scripture which nobody can identify (and who would want to try really. tervis is not good company)#but the doylist explanation is that it's literally just the cult mechanicus. just ignore all the references to the weakness of the flesh and #the glory of the machine it will all be fine nothing weird here at all #anyway :-) i could talk about tervis forever but i will stop now #i hope you are all well my dear friends! i am on holiday now wahoo #i am also aware that i have several messages to answer which i will do very soon i am so sorry for being so slow as usual #i love you all i am giving you individual kisses on your individual heads. mwah

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flimsy-spine · 15 days

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Chim in every episode - Rock the Boat 7x02

#tw flashing #chimney han #hen wilson #911 fox #911 abc #911edit #chimneyhanedit #henwilsonedit #*911 #*#ciep #god why do i feel like i've suddenly forgotten how to tag my posts #n e ways...... i know i said that i was done w 911 BUT i am not done with ciep she is my baby i could never ignore my firstborn!!!!!!!!!!!#there was absolutely nothing to work with for this episode please forgive me

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cilogram · 7 months

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Sparks hanging out

#with Mark Mothersbaugh and Nancye Ferguson and...#well #please save me from my ignorance!#part of the reason I uploaded this here was to see if other people know who else is in the photo... I'm so sorry!#forgive me #... beside that though Christi has the cutest smile. aww!#Russell suited this hairstyle a lot #and Ron's smile is making me laugh hdgfdhjhdf. so adorable #Sparks #Sparks band #Ron Mael #Russell Mael #Christi Haydon #Mark Mothersbaugh #Nancye Ferguson

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cannibalruikasa · 7 months

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the designs r growing on me....

#sorry this isnt asswrs art...#please forgive me #and ignore my user otherwise #prsk #project sekai #minokasa #tsukasa tenma #minori hanasato

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mchiti · 3 months

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to my lovely anons to the people I haven't replied to and also to my irl life friends this is a written apology because I'm entering the worst three weeks of my life but I'll bounce back once I'm free. time is limited energy level is dropping full time work doesn't help two 12cfu exams left at the very end ? not the smartest choice but who said I'm smart. I'm the dumbest person alive

#sorry so so sorry I'm .#please forgive me I don't want to ignore everyone im just on my 6th coffee of the day

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askblueandviolet · 3 months

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Finally! We are back in the game! Sorry for the wait guys, as a reward here is a literal 20,000 word chapter of shenanigans AKSHFBIUHWOBDJKS- have fun reading!!!

Ask Box will open in an hour or so to give you all time to read :DDD

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lmk #blue and violet #editing this chapter was a nightmare #if you see any inconsistencies please either ignore them and forgive me and/or tell me in the comments #my editing skills are trash my eyes skim over every detail and mistake #by the end of editing this I was melting in my chair

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rose-tinted-vision · 1 year

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I've been thinking a lot lately about Bachira's skills as a football player, and honestly, his range is insane.

Manga spoilers ahead

Firstly, let's take a look at the time before the second selection:

Bachira was perfectly content to fill in the role of goal assist, because he finally had people to play football with, so his ego came second to playing with Isagi Team Z.

In fact, one of our first introductions to Bachira has highlighted how he wasn't as caught up as the others in surviving in Blue Lock:

In the match against Team X, he didn't join his other teammates in stealing the ball from each other to score their own goals

(This was a while back so context: this was from the first arc where they had round robin matches within their own stratum, and only the player with the most goals gets to survive if they lose. Hence the infighting).

Sure, he can step up when needed and score by himself, like during the match against Team ReoNagiTetsu V where he took on a 1v5, but he was arguably content with just supporting Team Z with his dribbling and passes, until he realised that wasn't enough for Isagi.

It wasn't even really about Blue Lock to Bachira. In my opinion, when he saw Rin and Isagi leaving him behind, he realised that if he wanted to keep his friends, he had to survive in Blue Lock.

And survive he did. Bachira evolved in the same match where he realised his current playing style wasn't enough, he knew he was capable of scoring on his own and took the risk.

(In my opinion it seems kind of like a desperate all-or-nothing to prove himself in response to Nagi's provocation).

The Bachira timeline as I see it, from the first chapter up till now, was about being accepted making friends > being able to play with other people to his full potential > then eventually about growing his ego as a player.

And it's amazing to watch him grow into himself, because we have seen glimpses of how he's a force to reckon with before. But now that he has a team who is willing to play around him and let him figure out his playstyle, he's allowed to break free from the role of dribbling/assist (I don't know if there's an official term for goal assist?) and step into the spotlight to show just how good of an all-rounder he is.

(Also, with Bachira defining himself more, we get more smug feral Bachira expressions, I love it.)

Tldr, Bachira Meguru is such a well-rounded player as a whole, with tremendous potential and we should talk more about it. Like, come on, he had the second highest offer after the FC Barcha VS Bastard Munchen match, how is no one acknowledging that??

#if you notice my English deteriorating please ignore it #im squeezing my brain juices to its last dregs #this may be slightly biased forgive me #but its bachira meguru!!! how is one supposed to Not sing his praises???#anyways. here's my own take on Bachira #feel free to add on! be as objective as you like! i always love blue lock metas #blue lock #blue lock analysis #bachira meguru #bllk

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writereleaserepeat · 1 year

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So, I finally dove back into some great writing by @peachy-panic after some chapter updates to their stories Do No Harm and Fifty-Eight Days. I really adore the setting and characters in Fifty-Eight days, and anonamously received the blessing to write some fanfiction, so I did! Spoilers for Fifty-Eight Days below the cut - please go read their work if you haven't already!

There's a nameless woman mentioned in the flashback that starts "Reconvergence," and I thought it would be interesting to see the rescue scene from a different point of view (and perhaps from the point of view of someone who is mostly lucid at the time). It's obviously a fan work, so there are some canon divergences and creative liberties just to make it flow, but I really love the characters and hope I did them a bit of justice.

Spoilers for Fifty-Eight Days by peachy-panic

TW: implied non-con, aftermath of non-con, nudity mention, strong language, kidnapping, blood mention, gore mention, violence mention

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“You should be prepared for anything,” the Lieutenant Colonel had said. As any dutiful officer would, Eleanor Martin took those words to heart, and prepared as well as one could. Naievely, she thought she had prepared for anything. But that pre-mission briefing felt like a lifetime ago now that she was staring at the gore-soaked aftermath of the compound raid.

Voss’s men had put up a fight, just as they had expected. The winding halls were lined with bodies of the nameless henchmen, grey brain matter collecting in puddles alongside skull fragments, crimson splattered up against the walls. Ivory paint was pock-marked with countless bullet holes, and the smell of gunpowder lingered alongside the pungent odor of copper. Death permeated every pore of her body.

It hadn’t been hard to find Voss’s room, an elegant suite tucked away at the heart of the sprawling compound. He had thought himself a king, and the bedroom had clearly been built to reflect this sentiment.

The only crown Voss wore now was a ring of liquid red. His eyes were already glossed over with the pallor of death, and he was gazing up at the ceiling with a permanent grimace etched in his leathery skin. For a man who had been hunted by authorities for years, a man turned into a monstrous specter that rivaled the devil himself, he seemed so small as he slumped lifeless against the bedroom wall with a bullet hole between his brows.

But it wasn’t Voss that had seared an image in Eleanor’s mind when she entered the room. It was the two young men, the very ones they had also hoped to find in this place, caught amidst the gunfire and the chaos. Naked, soaked in blood, the whites of their eyes showing like frightened dogs. They hardly resembled the two photos that authorities had received six long weeks ago, but it was unmistakably the two missing missionaries. And amidst the flurry of uniformed men entering the room, it was clear that no one knew what to do with the surviving victims. Perhaps this was because they were never expected to be found alive.

“Gordon, call the medics in,” Eleanor barked at her colleague. He nodded, shoving his pistol back in its holster before running out of the room. Eleanor tried to ignore the fact the other soldier looked as though he were about to be sick.

Movement caught her eye, and Eleanor turned her attention back to the victims. The boy she recognized as Grayson Dawning scrambled off the bed, his face stained with tears and blood, an expression of hopeless despair frozen in place. Alive. He was alive, unmistakably, honest-to-god alive.

While finding both victims alive was better than any of the authorities involved had expected, Eleanor could already tell that survival was not a kindness to either of these young men. The near-catatonic one—Elijah—was still facedown on the bed and gagged. Even among the armed men reorganizing themselves to sweep the rest of the compound, his cloth-stifled soft sobs still filled the room with heart-wrenching pain.

“You- you gotta help him,” Grayson mumbled as he staggered to his feet beside the bed, hands pulling at the cloth gag that was stuffed in Elijah’s mouth. Grayson didn’t seem to care that he was still exposed, burdened by the stench of sweat and sex across every inch of his skin. Eleanor’s stomach turned.

Be prepared for anything.

“Easy, Mr. Dawning,” she murmured, unsure of what else to say. After all, what could she say? It didn’t take an expert or a medic to understand what they had stormed in on.

Blood streaked down Elijah’s legs, across his face, all over the sheets of the bed. From the mass of wounds on his back and his thighs, it was hard to tell which injuries were fresh and which were just gnarled scars. But rather than attempt to stymie the bleeding, she took to pulling Grayson away, trying to get a handle on the situation until the medics arrived.

“I’ll get that,” she promised as she nudged Grayson’s trembling hands away from Elijah’s head. The young man didn’t offer her any resistance as she carefully undid the knot buried within the unruly curls. She couldn’t help but wince as her own fingers shook, but soon the knot loosened, and the crude gag finally came undone. With as much caution as she could muster she eased it out of his mouth.

“Elijah, please,” Grayson cried softly, his hands touching Elijah’s shoulder, trying to break through the fog that had overcome the younger of the pair. But as Eleanor could clearly see, Elijah’s eyes were unfocused, welling with tears, vacant but for the slightest spark of life. She wondered if he could even hear his companion at all.

“Well, shit,” Adam muttered as he looked at the two boys on the bed, the medic suddenly having appeared at Eleanor’s side. He dropped the medical bag to the floor and began his usual procedures, pulling the zippers open to reveal his instruments and supplies. There was no mistaking the urgency with which the man had gotten down to business.

“Adam, this is Grayson and Elijah,” she said, gesturing to them each in turn. She wasn’t trained to interact with patients like Adam was, but the least she could do was give them a name to attach to a face. Maybe she hoped it would give them some comfort, ground them amidst the chaos that had just rained down. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

She wasn’t even sure there was a right thing to do in a situation like this.

“Hey, Elijah,” Adam said as he settled down by the bedside. “My name’s Adam, and I’m here to help you out.” Elijah didn’t respond, eyes still staring off into empty space, tears leaking freely in streams through the blood and grime.

“Please, you have to help him,” Grayson said, pleading. “Please, Elijah, I’m so sorry. I’m- it’s going to be okay. I'm sorry.” It was impossible to miss how Grayson’s hand wrapped around Elijah’s, squeezing tight. Whatever they had gone through, they were the only ones that could understand each other now.

“I’m checking your vitals now,” Adam continued, narrating his actions to Elijah softly beneath Grayson’s panicked chatter. “We’re going to start with your blood pressure and your heart. Eleanor, can you finish untying him?”

Shit. Eleanor hadn’t even thought to undo the restraints binding the boy’s wrists. She made quick work of those so Adam could slide the blood pressure cuff around Elijah’s recently-released arm. Moments later the rest of the medical team arrived, two gurneys and more medical supplies in tow.

“Yeah, we’ve got to load them up and get them out of here as soon as we can,” Adam said as he stood up to look at Eleanor, face taut with a newfound urgency. Whatever numbers the paramedic had pulled from his devices, they hadn't been good. “Our team will take Elijah here, and Joe’s team can take Grayson. We’ll take them both to the predetermined hospital, but it’s up to your folks to get the American authorities down there.”

“Fuck, right, I’ll let the Lieutenant Colonel know,” Eleanor answered, reaching for her walkie-talkie on her belt. The fact that these boys were alive was going to spare something of an international incident. She was supposed to let the Lieutenant Colonel know as soon as there was any definitive contact with the boys, dead or alive. Somehow, that had slipped her mind upon seeing their condition, that scene she had walked in on. If word of what truly happened got to the press, she wasn’t sure it would be much better than if they had been found dead.

After she made the call to her boss—yes, they were alive, and they were about to get brought out to the awaiting ambulances—she helped pull Grayson away from Elijah. This gave the other paramedics enough time to get to work on Grayson, running a rapid assessment of his vitals and responsiveness. As soon as he had lost contact with Elijah’s skin, Grayson seemed to disappear in much the same dissociative state.

This older one of the pair, supposedly a group leader that had pursued Elijah after he went missing, was barely more lucid than his catatonic companion. And as Elijah was rolled out of the room on a stretcher, bodies cleared out of the way as they went, Grayson seemed lost in a fog. Eleanor kept her grip on his upper arm as he looked around like a lost child.

“Where is he?” Grayson asked, panic renewed as he came back to himself, if only just. “Where did you take him?” He pulled himself from Eleanor’s grasp and stumbled towards the hallway, past the broken door, feet passing over the puddles of blood without hesitation.

“Where is Elijah?” He called out into the nothingness as Eleanor and the other paramedics followed after him, prepared to intercept and bring him to a gurney of his own.

“Mr. Dawning,” a shorter paramedic pleaded, “You need to sit down and let the medics look at you. We need to get you to the hospital.”

It was obvious by the full-body tremors that Grayson wasn’t particularly amiable to that suggestion. Eleanor, not versed in the art of comforting, and without a maternal instinct in her body, again attempted to soothe.

“It’s over now,” she said as she prepared to guide Grayson out of the winding compound. “It’s over, you’re safe.” He seemed to flinch when she reached for his shoulder again, so she drew her hand back. It would have to be enough to walk by his side. So she did, walking close by his shoulders, the paramedics rolling the gurney and their supplies a few paces behind. But she may as well have not even been there as they navigated the winding halls, Grayson still calling out Elijah’s name, eyes darting to every face they passed.

Once they were outside in the driveway, washed in the bright white of industrial grade lights and the flashing of emergency vehicles preparing to depart, Grayson seemed to snap back into focus. Of course; it seemed that Elijah was about to be loaded into one of the waiting ambulances, his body atop a stretcher and draped in blankets.

“Elijah!” Grayson cried out, voice cutting above the fray of uniformed officials trying to make some sense of the carnage that was unraveling inside the compound. From the chatter on Eleanor’s radio, it seemed that these wayward missionaries were not the only victims to be found in the recesses of Voss’s personal playground. More ambulances - and coroners - would likely be on their way in a matter of minutes.

Grayson nearly tumbled to the ground as his foot caught on the edge of the gurney, but somehow the emaciated boy caught himself and continued to propel forwards towards Elijah. That spark of desperation pulled again at Eleanor’s heartstrings. She watched the paramedics try to ward Grayson off, refuse his entry into the ambulance, their faces stern. Even Adam seemed prepared to put his foot down and protect the patient in his stead.

For a moment, Eleanor was lost. She likely would never see these boys again, not in person. Perhaps on the news or in her nightmares. But even if she would never see them again, she would remember these moments for the rest of her life. Perhaps they would too. What kindness could she afford them now?

“Let him,” she said, walking a few paces towards the waiting ambulance. “Let them go together.”

One of the paramedics looked like he was prepared to argue, but Eleanor knew that her rank was visible on her chest patch. A short tilt of her chin and squint of her eyes was all it took to make them fold.

As soon as wordless permission was granted, Grayson grabbed onto Elijah’s hand, both of their knuckles white. Fear still danced around them, but in the last few moments that Eleanor saw them before the doors closed, she knew she had made the right decision. Whatever awaited those boys in the future, and whenever they had to reckon with what she had glimpsed upon breaching that door, that would be saved for another day. For now, for these few short minutes before they were subjected to a thousand questions and countless doctors prodding at them, they would have each other. Maybe that would be enough.

#whump #whump community #whumplr #fanfic #peachy-panic #I've never done fanfic for a not-majorly-published piece before #so I'm super nervous lmao but yolo amiright?#trying to get back into writing and I wasn't going to ignore a muse #no matter where that muse came from or what it asked of me #so yeah this was just a little other-POV to look at these sweet bois #how I'd imagine it anyway #ramble ramble ramble I'm just ahhhh #please go read the original it's so good #also please forgive any eras #I have no betas just my own impulses and poor grasp of grammar

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little-bumblebeeee · 1 month

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this is what happens when you finish all of your classwork 30 minutes early

#I'm so faceblind forgive me Mr wood #I also had to explain what will wood is to my old man science teacher because I was wearing the self-ish hoodie #good times good times #will wood #will woodussy #the normal album #Hated the face so much I wanted to do something over it to make it all sPoOkY but decided “yk what no ur gonna ruin it"#please click for better quality #The mouth looks so effed up but it's not that bad trust me #(Also ignore my atrocious handwriting pls n thanks)

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employee052 · 10 months

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iswm x tsp au crossover dump dont mind me officer

i saw a writing prompt with a spaceship, an imaginary friend turned real, and an alien, and now i wanna combine the iswm brainrot with tsp brainrot but idk how

smth like: (note i did NOT proof read this and this is just me dumping a loose lore idea down, apologies to ppl who havent seen iswm) (also ill be using my captainsona for this just bc i need help visualising this au n why not use capn oz for it askjhd)

captain oz j unknown of the invincible ii. trapped within the confines of the wormhole and a dead and cold ship. no crewmates, no colonists.

he begins to scrape together materials to survive, raiding the food supply for meals, figuring out how to get some form of light around the dark hallways of the ship

imagining his head engineer hurt too much, imagining the other crew leads hurt just as much. so he begins to imagine someone new. someone who can banter with him, talk when he wanted to be enveloped in the deafening silence, be soft when he pictured all the dead bodies floating across the multiverse as a result of his carelessness, someone he can exist with.

and so. he comes up with something, a soothing british voice that interchanged from talking overhead as though from the ships speakers to being right in front of him, interacting with the world around him.

at some point, he thinks he really has gone crazy when he cant recall how his imaginary friend managed to do things he didnt imagine of, telling stories that he genuinely had no idea where it would go, and how he managed to pick up and use items in the ship

soon, his imaginary friend began weaving a tale for him to walk through, mind control rooms, warehouses, office buildings, still woefully empty but the yellow light of the candles around the ship made it feel like it had life of some kind.

eventually, the captain dies, alone, yet at least with the company of his imaginary friend to guide him.

the universe resets, or more rather, he gets taken into another universe, right at the precipice of when everything went to shit before.

he witnesses long forgotten crewmates live again, light on the ship that seemed almost blinding in comparison to the darkness before. and at some point, his imaginary friend slips from his mind.

he does end up meeting someone who reminded him of his old friend, but as he saw the quill he wrote in he knew that it was not him.

yet once the wormhole had vanished and what was left was him and his head engineer, the eternity of darkness he was once in seemed like a distant memory. a forgotten wisp of the past that he occasionally remembered whenever he gazed out into the ships halls during the night.

yet as preparations were made for the crew and colonists to finally make their way down into the new planet they will inhabit, the computer in all its digital glory, called out to him and the crew leads: ALERT, UNIDENTIFIED LIFEFORM ON THE SHIP.

the captain asked for a description, hoping it was just another alien visiting on behalf of the universal stability agency.

as the computer began to list off the entity's descriptions, the captains heart began to pace.

its got to be a trick, the universe liked to play tricks, he knew of it, perhaps it was just a coincidence that they were similar in presentation

yet as he ran to the location of the lifeform, a part of him hoped that it was his friend.

and incredibly, it was.

#ozzy rambles #ozzy ideas #tspud #iswm #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #in space with markiplier #writing i think #ficswin #kinda???#im just try dump my thoughts into an au forgive me #i just saw a writing prompt n wanted to manipulate it into an iswm tsp au #please ignore me this is just me wanting to combine two things i love

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