The teen, whom I shall name 'Home', is sitting in the kitchen of the guilt house, trying to figure out why he can't die.
Stroth is wandering around town, pickpocketing the absolute cripe out of people. She is trying to set a goal for herself.
A shadowy, short anthro wolf with pure white eyes enters the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee.
Unfortunately, one of the people she encounters is Jax, and she takes from his person a live explosive.
As they enter, the thing they feel most guilty of begins to appear down the hall of the 1990's ranch home. Home looks up, tilting his head "You must be really stupid to come in here."
*in case you haven't noticed, my halloween special is my undead characters when they were alive. The drunkard is Kasef the ghost, the little girl is felicity, and the tinker's daughter is valentine('s body. They have different personalities)*
*peony revival?.... please?...*
*die roll which undead she is!! 1: garden variety. 2: plant. 3: ghost. 4: other... Dice rolls not yet available for this section.*
1
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I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3 Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3 Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
*Hello friends! Wanna see some cool things? I present to you..... the before times: A Halloween special!*
An energetic young woman in a green vest is in the bar on her fifth pint.
A little girl in a dress sits on the border of the forest humming a strange old song
A disheveled woman tinkers with a small clockwork machine while her daughter sits nearby, reading a book
There rustling in the bushes near the girl
Georgie, a young human, walks up, seeming insterested in the machine
the girl's head cocks curiously
The girl pays him no mind, but the inventor glances at him "Hmm?"
A tall featureless creature comes out of the bush. It's build is similar to that of a gorilla's, but without eyes, a nose, or ears. It's skin is a dark gray color
He smiles at the inventor, "what are you making?" he asks, holding a plush humanoid cat in his arms (for the reccord georgie is around 9-8)
She seems a bit scared, scooting back
"A timepiece" she shows him the device, which is an intricate small clock
It seems to notice the movement, looking towards her,
he looks at it curiously, "Oh, like clocks"
she carefully holds out her hand
she chuckles "A lad after my own heart"
It tilt's it's head, but doesn't seem agressive
He tilts his head, "Don't you need your heart?"
the girl takes a cautious step forward and attempts to pet the creature
"It's a figure of speech, kid" she smiles
it lets out a light growl but allows her to pet it
"ohhh, ok" he nods and smiles
she gently pats it
"It means I like your way of thinking. I like clocks as well"
It sits on the grass, still taller than her
"My uncle used to make them until he got arrested" he says innocently
"you're not so bad"
"Hmm" she frowns
It tilts its head to the other side, mouth opening for a moment as it speaks in what is easily discerned as an exact copy of her voice, "Not bad"
"Which was sad, he was always super nice. But mom and dad stopped talking to him afterwards" he sighs
The teen, whom I shall name 'Home', is sitting in the kitchen of the guilt house, trying to figure out why he can't die.
Stroth is wandering around town, pickpocketing the absolute cripe out of people. She is trying to set a goal for herself.
A shadowy, short anthro wolf with pure white eyes enters the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee.
Unfortunately, one of the people she encounters is Jax, and she takes from his person a live explosive.
As they enter, the thing they feel most guilty of begins to appear down the hall of the 1990's ranch home. Home looks up, tilting his head "You must be really stupid to come in here."
She hisses and throws it away into a trashcan.
If home is learned, they recognize the creature as Salem, a therapeutic spirit. "No, you're stupid for being here, I'm immortal."
It clings to her hand, beginning to beep
"Unfortunately, so am I." He huffs, standing up. He has short, brown fluffy hair, skin that is marred by scars, and lanky limbs. He wears clothes that are similar to those of a insane asylum pajamas, whitish-blue in color. "Go away."
She sighs and allows it to blow up, not really in the mood to deal with it anyways. Not like it can hurt her anyways.
Stumbling into the tavern cold and confused, is a shortish woman with dark grey-brown skin and matted long red hair. Her face is scarred and one of her eyes is icy blue, whereas the other is glassy and dark. she sits at the bar, looking dazed
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I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3 Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
The teen, whom I shall name 'Home', is sitting in the kitchen of the guilt house, trying to figure out why he can't die.
Stroth is wandering around town, pickpocketing the absolute cripe out of people. She is trying to set a goal for herself.
A shadowy, short anthro wolf with pure white eyes enters the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee.
Unfortunately, one of the people she encounters is Jax, and she takes from his person a live explosive.
As they enter, the thing they feel most guilty of begins to appear down the hall of the 1990's ranch home. Home looks up, tilting his head "You must be really stupid to come in here."
She hisses and throws it away into a trashcan.
If home is learned, they recognize the creature as Salem, a therapeutic spirit. "No, you're stupid for being here, I'm immortal."
It clings to her hand, beginning to beep
"Unfortunately, so am I." He huffs, standing up. He has short, brown fluffy hair, skin that is marred by scars, and lanky limbs. He wears clothes that are similar to those of a insane asylum pajamas, whitish-blue in color. "Go away."
She sighs and allows it to blow up, not really in the mood to deal with it anyways. Not like it can hurt her anyways.
"It's not so bad when you devote your time to helping people, which is what I do." it sits down next to them, taking a sip of coffee. "So, what'd you do now, Home?"
It simply lets out a mad cackle before falling to the ground.
He blinks "Get the hell out of my house. You and every other therapist has tried but how many times do I have to say it! I don't want help!" He bares his teeth.
Stumbling into the tavern cold and confused, is a shortish woman with dark grey-brown skin and matted long red hair. Her face is scarred and one of her eyes is icy blue, whereas the other is glassy and dark. she sits at the bar, looking dazed
Next to her, Aeris is frantically pouring over a book, looking very stressed.
she doesn't seem to recognise her. It's been some years since she died, after all
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I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3 Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
*Have a cutscene for the Cursebutcher. I was planning on it being an intro, something to interact with, but I kind of changed my mind at the end.*
Out at the abattoir, the packing plant seems to have grown. Not as in "they built an addition," but as in "this thing is not only alive but malevolent." The Cursebutcher sits outside of the building on an old office chair he dragged from -where else?- the manager's office.
Can't help but feel like you belong here.
He closes his eyes, not looking at the cigarette butts and broken bottles around him.
It's what God likes about you, Porter.
He exhales the smoke, facing the sky so as not to see the vampire at his feet, drained of all their blood.
I'll have you know that there's nothing worse than a malformation.
His face sinks to his hands, his lit blunt hanging loosely between his fingers.
You are a danger to yourself and everyone around you. Your father doesn't hate you... he's just a little stressed. You talk to that boy about God, as if He would love something like that. Don't lie, your father is a wonderful man, he would never talk to you that way. I heard you talking to my wife... what did you say, you animal. You don't know what you're talking about. Wait, what are you... ... ...
Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter?
Cursebutcher crushes his lit cigarette in his hand before throwing it to the mud. "I hope it hurt."
*I just want to make sure people had a chance to read this, I'm not sure if it got buried.*
*Also, it's deliberately ambiguous, so keep that in mind going in.*
*Have a cutscene for the Cursebutcher. I was planning on it being an intro, something to interact with, but I kind of changed my mind at the end.*
Out at the abattoir, the packing plant seems to have grown. Not as in "they built an addition," but as in "this thing is not only alive but malevolent." The Cursebutcher sits outside of the building on an old office chair he dragged from -where else?- the manager's office.
Can't help but feel like you belong here.
He closes his eyes, not looking at the cigarette butts and broken bottles around him.
It's what God likes about you, Porter.
He exhales the smoke, facing the sky so as not to see the vampire at his feet, drained of all their blood.
I'll have you know that there's nothing worse than a malformation.
His face sinks to his hands, his lit blunt hanging loosely between his fingers.
You are a danger to yourself and everyone around you. Your father doesn't hate you... he's just a little stressed. You talk to that boy about God, as if He would love something like that. Don't lie, your father is a wonderful man, he would never talk to you that way. I heard you talking to my wife... what did you say, you animal. You don't know what you're talking about. Wait, what are you... ... ...
Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter?
Cursebutcher crushes his lit cigarette in his hand before throwing it to the mud. "I hope it hurt."
*I just want to make sure people had a chance to read this, I'm not sure if it got buried.*
*Also, it's deliberately ambiguous, so keep that in mind going in.*
*Have a cutscene for the Cursebutcher. I was planning on it being an intro, something to interact with, but I kind of changed my mind at the end.*
Out at the abattoir, the packing plant seems to have grown. Not as in "they built an addition," but as in "this thing is not only alive but malevolent." The Cursebutcher sits outside of the building on an old office chair he dragged from -where else?- the manager's office.
Can't help but feel like you belong here.
He closes his eyes, not looking at the cigarette butts and broken bottles around him.
It's what God likes about you, Porter.
He exhales the smoke, facing the sky so as not to see the vampire at his feet, drained of all their blood.
I'll have you know that there's nothing worse than a malformation.
His face sinks to his hands, his lit blunt hanging loosely between his fingers.
You are a danger to yourself and everyone around you. Your father doesn't hate you... he's just a little stressed. You talk to that boy about God, as if He would love something like that. Don't lie, your father is a wonderful man, he would never talk to you that way. I heard you talking to my wife... what did you say, you animal. You don't know what you're talking about. Wait, what are you... ... ...
Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter?
Cursebutcher crushes his lit cigarette in his hand before throwing it to the mud. "I hope it hurt."
*I just want to make sure people had a chance to read this, I'm not sure if it got buried.*
*Also, it's deliberately ambiguous, so keep that in mind going in.*
*Ahhhhhhh, this is so sad and well written :D*
*Thank you. I was worried that everyone saw it but just didn't find it interesting enough to comment. Even if it was bad, I would have wanted it to have been so bad that it wasn't boring.*
*Have a cutscene for the Cursebutcher. I was planning on it being an intro, something to interact with, but I kind of changed my mind at the end.*
Out at the abattoir, the packing plant seems to have grown. Not as in "they built an addition," but as in "this thing is not only alive but malevolent." The Cursebutcher sits outside of the building on an old office chair he dragged from -where else?- the manager's office.
Can't help but feel like you belong here.
He closes his eyes, not looking at the cigarette butts and broken bottles around him.
It's what God likes about you, Porter.
He exhales the smoke, facing the sky so as not to see the vampire at his feet, drained of all their blood.
I'll have you know that there's nothing worse than a malformation.
His face sinks to his hands, his lit blunt hanging loosely between his fingers.
You are a danger to yourself and everyone around you. Your father doesn't hate you... he's just a little stressed. You talk to that boy about God, as if He would love something like that. Don't lie, your father is a wonderful man, he would never talk to you that way. I heard you talking to my wife... what did you say, you animal. You don't know what you're talking about. Wait, what are you... ... ...
Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter?
Cursebutcher crushes his lit cigarette in his hand before throwing it to the mud. "I hope it hurt."
*Ooh, how intriguing... It's very well written! I love how it makes me ponder the smaller details.*
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Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
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As they enter, the thing they feel most guilty of begins to appear down the hall of the 1990's ranch home. Home looks up, tilting his head "You must be really stupid to come in here."
She hisses and throws it away into a trashcan.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
1
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
*PLANT UNDEAD PEONY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OCCAM'S ROSESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS*
*oh nvm just garden variety gimme sec*
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
It tilts its head to the other side, mouth opening for a moment as it speaks in what is easily discerned as an exact copy of her voice, "Not bad"
"Which was sad, he was always super nice. But mom and dad stopped talking to him afterwards" he sighs
"Unfortunately, so am I." He huffs, standing up. He has short, brown fluffy hair, skin that is marred by scars, and lanky limbs. He wears clothes that are similar to those of a insane asylum pajamas, whitish-blue in color. "Go away."
She sighs and allows it to blow up, not really in the mood to deal with it anyways. Not like it can hurt her anyways.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Hey guys, I don't have very long.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Stumbling into the tavern cold and confused, is a shortish woman with dark grey-brown skin and matted long red hair. Her face is scarred and one of her eyes is icy blue, whereas the other is glassy and dark. she sits at the bar, looking dazed
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
*Nooooo, i'll make sure to attend your funeral however i can T-T*
He blinks "Get the hell out of my house. You and every other therapist has tried but how many times do I have to say it! I don't want help!" He bares his teeth.
She crouches down, poking it
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*dinner time*
she doesn't seem to recognise her. It's been some years since she died, after all
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
*I just want to make sure people had a chance to read this, I'm not sure if it got buried.*
*Also, it's deliberately ambiguous, so keep that in mind going in.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*For some silly character interactions*
The Seer is milling about the old meat-packing plant, drinking the rest of her bottle of blood.
Traitor is chilling outside the Inn.
KK is still working at her studio on her big project, occasionally looking to see if anyone is around.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*Ahhhhhhh, this is so sad and well written :D*
*Thank you. I was worried that everyone saw it but just didn't find it interesting enough to comment. Even if it was bad, I would have wanted it to have been so bad that it wasn't boring.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Ooh, how intriguing... It's very well written! I love how it makes me ponder the smaller details.*
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)