#pathy

[askpathologicaltwilight]

#1

Rebooting...

Background

[hayheadd]

Pathologic drawn on phone but I think I'll be posting singular images noww

Anna, Willow, Nara

[fentonphoto]

Shadows on the Path. @travelgraphics

[troutreznor]

Sylvia Rivera during the filming of "The Transexual Menace" (1996)

photo by Mariette Pathy Allen [website] [instagram]

[the-path-to-redemption]

[brat-pack-it-up-boys]

“Me and the bad bitch I pulled by being autistic”but it’s ponyboy and Cathy

It could be from either perspectives

[haveyouseenthisseries-poll]

[rathologic]

truly respect patho2's changes to the willows... the whole time in 1 I've been thinking "it would be nice if anna's interior reflected her being a hoarder of medicine by amassing a collection of other objects, thereby offering insight into her character and creating a sense that she has despoiled or disorganized the house by living in it" and 2 did hit that spot on.

[uneclipsing]

Nice to be able to look in the mirror and think. That's me! :). Never dared to hope I'd ever really get to this point, or at least not this quickly

[freak60000]

NEW EMOTE IS ADORAPLE XPPPP

[night-sky-blood-sea]

Marcus Black is not a kind man.

He's many things, and being a self-aware individual was arguably one of his better traits. He knows that he was a murderer, an alcoholic in the making, and a shitty father. None of the virtues that makes a good man was present in him for those that dared to take a look, who only saw a monster lurking in the dark corner watching them. Mr. Black was more than happy with such reputation because it made him someone.

Marcus was many things, but being another wretch in the damp, dirty streets of the world, writhing with misery and slowly rot away under anyone else disgusts him more than anything.

Never again shall he let himself come close to such a detestable fate.

Marcus valued power more than the bitter liquid that burns his throat every week, more than the thrill of battle that left him soaking in the warm crimson at the end. Some would even argue that there was more love given to the concept than to the little boy sleeping in the hall of his home, waiting, the same way when he was brought to Marcus' doorstep one silent eve.

Power, in all shapes and form to him, was a sign of being alive.

So when he saw a young man in the cold streets of Atlas with hair the color of blood and a singular eye that reflect a dull summer sky, he knew. In that moment, drenched in the hazy night light of sorrowful Mantle, Marcus Black had found someone just as broken, and just as alive.

--------------------------------------------------------------------- Adam Taurus used to be someone.

More than a slave; the bottom scum of society where every day was spent laboring in the dark mines, and every night held down by much stronger hands until all he could do was limp back to the barracks alone, with the pockets of his tattered jacket filled with an extra handful more lien.

More than a child who stared wistfully at the display window of shops with their food and clothes and cosmetics, reserved for anyone but those like him.

More than an orphan, more than an abused captive, the Adam before was simply a child. A child of Faunus in a human farmstead, with loving parents and hopes of a better life shining within his heart.

No longer was that Adam Taurus alive. His existence, to himself, was just that. To exist, he simply let himself become anything those above him wants him to be. He was no one, with no hopes and no dreams to run to.

So when he was given a single thread of silvery salvation, it cost more than too much. In his pursuit of freedom, Adam was left with a brand on his eye and a corpse of someone he had dared to love.

Adam Taurus was no one.

But when he picked up the gun that was held over him by his oppressors and pulled the trigger, that version of him died as well. When the cold bites into his skin, when the bottom of his feet bleed from running across the streets of the city, he never felt that he was just simply existing. And when Adam came across a man in the alley who smells of death, he had found a new self.

In the dim glow of sorrowful Mantle, cloaked in shadows and blood staring back at him with crimson red eyes, Adam Taurus had found a broken, twisted, and cruel freedom.

-The Crooked Man.

[hayheadd]

Clara Pathologic no hat 🐀

[ryvenarts]

A Pathfiner skin I made, all the way back in 2019! Was fun to revisit the idea again!!

The skin was one of my first few Pathie draws on tumblr.

[troutreznor]

During gay pride, early 1980s.

photo & caption by Mariette Pathy Allen [website] [instagram]

[the-path-to-redemption]

Working on a concept redesign for Ruby, uploading the WIP here before I regret everything.

P. S. I hate the fucking rez crusher.

[hymnostic]

stan culture is so sad and weird because people genuinely believe they can’t listen to a certain artist if there’s ‘beef’ going on between them and their fave i mean ??? who gives a shit if the millionaires are fighting put your headphones in and let yourself enjoy things????? what a sad little life jane. arguing about charts on twitter while you’re on your way to your normal person job do you see why you shouldn’t give a shit????