#termina brain

[electricfrank3n]

and then he did indeed get decapitated

[eugenoid-draws]

Thinking about how little bodily autonomy Daan possessed his whole life

[myewt]

[dailypav]

Drawing Pav every day until he's playable: Day 148

WE ARE FUCKING BACK

Here's Pav celebrating the return of regular posting yeaaaah woooo yeaaaaah lets goooo (im so tired)

[doodlelots]

brain flower

[when-sanpape-arts]

Go read Under My Skin by glassincisor rn 👁️👁️

[stars-and-bards]

And when I decay, it will be all for you.

[lucraven]

Funger x Dungeon Meshi au inspired by @ruthirlcartoon’s post about it!

Cahara (human), D’arce (half-foot), Enki (gnome), and Ragnvaldr (dwarf)

I kept the girl being a half-elf and L’egarde being an elf, but I added human Nosramus. I hope people like this bc it’s not gonna be my last post for this au >:3

Cropped versions of the first pic under the cut

[pavisms]

daav sketches 💥

[catacropolis]

Twisted Wonderland Fear and Hunger AU

Malleus fear and hunger concept designs

for the human/ funger design i had a lot of characters in the same type of outfit so for malleus i wanted to give him a long skirt to break up the designs. bringing the skirt into the design balanced not only the cast but the design as a whole.

on the belt a few sprigs of herbs are tied for easy access.

i wanted malleus to be still recognisable as himself without his horns through his hair and i believe achieved that

Moonscorched malleus

the Lonesome

Born from Malleues’s fear of being alone forever and losing those around him the lonesome is born. Being a dragon his horde of humans will keep him company for eternity absorbing whatever unlucky soul that dares to cross its path. the lonesome lashes out and perceives whoever approaches as a threat. If left alone the lonesome will seek more people to add to its never-ending horde. The lonesome seeks companionship but its very nature repels 

Malleus will become moonscorched on the afternoon of day 2 if you fail to stop an interaction with a non-playable contestant (character not decided at this time). Failing to intervene will result in malleus moonscorching in the orphanage. There the lonesome will lurk the abandoned hallways searching for its next companion. 

The draconic nature of his moonscorched form correlates with his draconic fae heritage in twst. His moonscorched form stands upon a horde of bodies like a pile of gold. The faces of those he's obsorbed are displayed on his body. For this design, i wanted to invoke a sense of an almost eldritch horror. Trying to capture the feeling and style of fear and hunger while also making the design my own and incorporating elements of twst is the challenge of these concept sketches

His moonscorched form would be one that most would avoid occurring because of how powerful and difficult it is. he isn't one to underestimate and neither should his moonscorched form. His fight however wouldnt be impossible to beat just really difficult. 

want to know more ?

Au explanation !!

[artofapeach]

8 person party, everyone lives au, START!!!

Next

[ampheenix]

Marina: an Epilogue

F&H MARINA X LEVI FIC, TAGS: romantic fluff, angst, flashbacks, oneshot

SUMMARY:

“Marina left Prehevil, her ties to it severed by the festival. She would settle down in Valland, in the red lights district of the capital. She would find kindred spirits there. She had a good life, using her occult skills for a living. Though a certain person was always following her…”

Or, what happened to Marina after winning the Terminal festival… along with a glimpse into her memories, and what happened along the way.

Marina had a sneaking feeling her hair had been paler as of late. Her curly locks seemed less silky and smooth, more… subdued, and the bags under her eyes had been growing darker too. 

Every time she came across her reflection in the mirror, it felt like being doused in cold water. No matter how much she powdered her face, no matter how much lipstick she slathered on, she still seemed pale, ghostly and shrouded in a sense of misery.

It wasn’t a good feeling. She’d always been one to take care in her appearance (it started with fear of others realizing her secret, and then she’d soon started finding enjoyment in the process), but as she gazed into the mirror… the fear she could see in her eyes, shaky and brittle… she didn’t like it at all.

In the very least, it wasn’t exactly a shock… after the scarring events of the Termina festival, Marina wouldn’t have been surprised if her hair turned white.

Her hands still started to tremble every time she thought back to just a few weeks ago- sweaty fingers in a white-knuckled grip on the trigger of a trench gun as she would shoot, and shoot, and shoot again with a desperate sense of knowing you’re just an inch from death, clothes drenched in filth that made Marina want to peel off her skin and take it to the laundry-

Marina stopped, nails digging into her fists hard enough to draw blood. She… she a handful of good memories from the festival at least, so it wasn’t all shit (though 99% of it was horrors beyond comprehension).

After all, it was Levi who had taught her how to shoot in the first place, how to defend herself with something aside from a kitchen knife and sanity-sapping spells. A wan smile made its way onto Marina’s face at the bittersweet memories…

At the beginning of the festival, all she’d known about the Eastern Union ex-soldier was that he had hurriedly made his way off the train, in a rather suspicious manner according to Karin (but the journalist had seemed rather biased, at the time).

It was honestly a surprise to find out that they were both the same age, when they met again in the basement of Restaurant Bílý Vůl. Marina was hesitant to approach at first, seeing a young, dishevelled boy in overalls curled up in a ball, and despite all this was rather attractive- even when shaking from withdrawal symptoms.

Marina was questioning her taste within that moment, yet she couldn’t help but extend a hand. And not because she thought him cute, alright- she genuinely wanted to help him out.

Levi… he carried himself with an air of constant paranoia, the deep bruises under his eyes and black marks on his arms a dead-giveaway to his chosen poison. So, when she offered heroin, a momentary ease to his suffering, they became tentative friends.

Levi was rather quiet. All he did at first was constantly scan the area with his gun at the ready, and occasionally glance at her when he thought she wasn’t looking- letting out a small sigh every now and then.

He followed her instructions instantly during battle, with unblinking faith in Marina’s judgment- and with their combined strength, they won every fight they came across.

The disturbing sights of Prehevil’s residents scarred both their minds, and neither of them judged when one found themselves nauseous and losing their lunch after a particularly disgusting foe…. After encounters with things like the fecal hound it was often commonplace.

And if Marina passed him a blue vial and some herbs after a battle, and their fingers touched briefly for a moment, who could blame her for hiding a smile at the pink in his cheeks?

By the end of the first day, when they settled down to rest in the bookshop, Marina couldn’t help but ask about the interaction… and yes, alright, maybe she said it in a rather teasing manner. All-mer forbid a girl flirt in these trying times.

And gods, it was worth it. Marina couldn’t help but let a laugh bubble up at how red Levi’s face turned, but it wasn’t a mean laugh or anything- and Levi could tell, as he buried his face in his hands. He had apologized, stumbling over his words, and she just smiled, shuffling closer…

And then, before she could think about it too much, Marina kissed his cheek. Her lips lingered there for a moment before she drew back, seeing Levi gazing at her complete and utter shock in his eyes, flustered beyond belief.

It was… it was a really nice moment, amidst all the death and gore. Those moments tended to be few and far between, and this had been the sweetest yet.

The next day, Daan had joined them, and he was more blunt and dry in his teasing than was Marina’s style but it was nonetheless effective.

That second night, he had taken a long, slow drag of his cigarette with a small smile, before calling out the stolen glances they were sending eachother- which Marina would vehemently deny (like a lying liar who lies), and Levi would nod along with her with crossed arms.

And the third day… everything went to shit, and Marina found herself at the tower, alone. Her memories are a hazy, fucked up blur from that point onwards.

And all that…

That was in the past now. Marina’s soft smile slowly faded, as she rested her hands on the sink in front of her. After everything that had happened, in the festival…

Gods.

Her grip tightens on the sink.

She had never thought she would win. The first few days after it all ended were spent in a daze, body on autopilot whilst her mind was in overdrive, staggering off that wretched FUCKING train that had brought so much blood and misery.

Winning had never been her intention, she wasn’t the type of person to sell out everyone else and murder them just so she could go free. That was something her father would probably have no qualms doing, but not her.

And all the days after staggering off the train at a random stop in Valland were filled with the sickening weight of guilt and grief, for the friends she hadn’t saved. Marina knew it wasn’t her fault, but… their lost souls still weighed on her.

Marina stared at her reflection in the mirror as she ran a shaky hand through her hair, greasy from neglect.

Tried to pretend she was a normal girl, living a normal life in the red lights district of Valland, who had never seen a town of people scorched by the light of an old god. Tried to pretend that she was just your average occultist who had only the right sorts of secrets, the scandalous ones that make your friends giggle and go “ooh,” and “aah.”

Marina held her piercing gaze on the eyes of the girl in the mirror, a girl who looked tired beyond belief, like she hadn’t truly rested in a long while. And Marina let out a long sigh, like the ones Daan used to do whenever she and Levi did something particularly stupid.

And Marina took a step back from the mirror, planting her hands on her face as she breathed in deeply. In, and out. In, and out…

She’d be okay, as time went by. Marina had to believe that, because what else was there?

When you’re a participant in a festival like that…

Where all you have are the enemies who want you dead, the creepy Bremen soldier who wants to see under your skirt, a doctor who was forced to use his skills to murder instead of heal, and the ex-soldier who you may or may not have been crushing on… that is, before he was viciously slaughtered by a monster right in front of you.

No one walks out of something like that without a few scars.

And… well.

She hadn’t been the only one to walk out, apparently.

A certain someone had followed her to Valland’s capital, though Marina still had no idea who- or what- she was. She, or it, bared an uncanny resemblance to the girl from the festival, the one that was supposed to be dead.

Marina just barely recalled her name… Samarie.

Her face was one of many that showed up in her dreams each night. Greasy black her, sickly pale skin, and swathed in a sense of desperation… the girl who had said she loved her, the girl who had stabbed her father, and the girl who had apparently been a part of the ninth circle (that Marina had only ever heard sick and twisted rumours of).

Marina still struggled to even comprehend her.

And now, a version of Samarie had managed to follow her here, even though the rules of Termina had dictated only one may walk out. So either the black-haired girl managed to break the rules somehow, or she had been replaced by some twisted creature from Prehevil.

Samarie hadn’t been that bad company to be honest, aside from being a tad delusional and creepy. Marina definitely knew which option of the two she preferred, but unfortunately, she also knew which one was more likely- some kind of doppelgänger, no doubt.

Calmer now, she let her hands fall back down by her sides, letting out a deep exhale. Even now, she had a niggling feeling that Samarie was watching her…

Well, could be worse.

She could have jumped down that damn toilet at the beginning of the festival and have rotted there in faeces for the rest of her days, like some idiot. (Shit, imagine if she had done that? She’d never live it down… and she’d never live, period.)

Marina walked out of her cramped bathroom and let herself fall with a “thwump!” on a lumpy couch, courtesy of one of her newly-made acquaintances- she’d met some kindred spirits recently who also studied occultism, and they were nice, she supposed.

All she could do now was wait and see if “Samarie” ever revealed herself, and attempt to scrub her mind of the scarring memories from the festival. She didn’t even want to think about that bastard Per’kele and his twisted games ever again.

And just… hope, that everything would turn out alright.

But she knew one thing- she was never doing rituals in the name of that bastard Rher ever again.

[odiousidiot]

termina doodles <3

[dailyperkele]

Headcanon Week

Day 4 - Feathers' feel

Even when his feathers are detached in an attack, torn or shed there is a period of time in which Per'kele can still feel through them- primary feathers' feel lasts longer than secondary ones.

For example, when he launches them at the contestants, even if they're no longer attached to his body, he can still feel the feathers slash through the skin of the adversary. If they were to ricochet against him it'd feel like stabbing oneself with your own fingers, feeling both the cut and the cutting at the same time.

Stepping or breaking a shed feather that still has feel would be like stepping on his arm or plucking it from the skin.

[willnaib]

termina being such an anti war game is why it has me in its grip so bad rn. what do you MEAN you find pocketdaan in front of Literally Just Guernica.

obviously the historical references to our world seen in termina aren’t… a one to one comparison. but something i love about funger in general is a lot of things are implied but when they want you to know something You Will Know And You Can’t Escape It. the war and subsequent anti-war themes being one of them.

[catament]

this is my doctor he is wonderful