So spend your hours on What you think I've done wrong I know I'm in your mind I've been here way too long I want to spend my life With those who've done me right Your heart is frozen over I'm a four-leaf clover
"Of course you don't want those. You want some good, old-fashioned herbal remedies for your ills. Tell me, what ails you? Bad back? Dry eyes? Missing leg? Annoying boss? I can cure anything."
"Nothing ails me right now, except.. no I shouldn't say"
"Oh, c'mon, cousin. I've got everything. Cures for curses, STDs, burns, blood loss, blood pressure, diabetes, plague, shrapnel in your heart, everything. It's easy... just take a stab for me... C O U S I N... Hhhhhakekekekeke..."
"Of course you don't want those. You want some good, old-fashioned herbal remedies for your ills. Tell me, what ails you? Bad back? Dry eyes? Missing leg? Annoying boss? I can cure anything."
"Nothing ails me right now, except.. no I shouldn't say"
"Oh, c'mon, cousin. I've got everything. Cures for curses, STDs, burns, blood loss, blood pressure, diabetes, plague, shrapnel in your heart, everything. It's easy... just take a stab for me... C O U S I N... Hhhhhakekekekeke..."
"I highly doubt you can 'cure' me of my rut, sir.." Jax says while rubbing the bridge of his nose, sighing
He laughs again. "Oh, but I can. I can burn it out of you for a small fee of four silver every time it gets to be that time. I can rip the thoughts out of your pretty little head with a cheap little blend."
He laughs again. "Oh, but I can. I can burn it out of you for a small fee of four silver every time it gets to be that time. I can rip the thoughts out of your pretty little head with a cheap little blend."
Caught in his sales pitch, Jax flushes. "Oh, you think I'm pretty?..."
"Of course." He spins his way over the short distance, moving so fast it's hard to see him. He draws a little bag of silver powder from his coat. "All the more reason to purge those nasty urges. Don't wanna pick up all those ladies while addled." Blood drips from his eye sockets as his skinny body bows. "Just four little dimes, and you'll be safe. Non-addictive, utterly harmless. You can't get (GP) like this without a prescription, handsome, so you can call me God, or perhaps just Cathan."
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)
"Of course." He spins his way over the short distance, moving so fast it's hard to see him. He draws a little bag of silver powder from his coat. "All the more reason to purge those nasty urges. Don't wanna pick up all those ladies while addled." Blood drips from his eye sockets as his skinny body bows. "Just four little dimes, and you'll be safe. Non-addictive, utterly harmless. You can't get (GP) like this without a prescription, handsome, so you can call me God, or perhaps just Cathan."
No, something's not right... this is... "No, i'm.. I'm okay, thank you.."
He twists his head to an unnatural angle. "What's wrong? You scared?" He says scared with a strange tone. He's savoring the indecision. "My meds are the real (GP). I can show you. Nothing healthier, nothing safer. I can demonstrate, even." Cathan seems to be everywhere, inescapable, too fast to be human. He begins to peel off his headscarf, and... oh.. no...
The least graphic depiction I can give is that it's like someone got a rotten jack-o-lantern and glued burnt hamburger to it, then drugged it to the gills, and sent it out to die on the front lines of WWI. "I shouldn't be alive, let alone able to dance and speak. It's my products that allow me to function normally." He takes a whiff of the silver powder. "No hunger, lust, or boredom. You can sit in your office and work without needing to think about anything else. Or anything else, really. If you think you're better off worse, I'm good with that. Everyone's buying, and you being left out doesn't hurt my wallet... just my heart."
Rag is being Rag, which means he’s working out best he can.
John is napping as well as Grove, the suit of armor and the man in armor taking a rest in the tavern.
Benimaru is defeating the infernals that have been created by the bugs he doesn’t know about.
A highly-complex, bottle green and pink wheelchair rolls up. There is a canopy over it, shadowing the owner. The spokes of the wheels seem to be articulated mannequin arms. A pair of shining spectacles, curly-toed boots, and heat-proof gloves on the surreal controls are the only visible parts of the lanky being inside. They don't say a thing, but whoever is inside doesn't give off any aura of power or menace. Odds are they actually need that wheelchair.
He twists his head to an unnatural angle. "What's wrong? You scared?" He says scared with a strange tone. He's savoring the indecision. "My meds are the real (GP). I can show you. Nothing healthier, nothing safer. I can demonstrate, even." Cathan seems to be everywhere, inescapable, too fast to be human. He begins to peel off his headscarf, and... oh.. no...
The least graphic depiction I can give is that it's like someone got a rotten jack-o-lantern and glued burnt hamburger to it, then drugged it to the gills, and sent it out to die on the front lines of WWI. "I shouldn't be alive, let alone able to dance and speak. It's my products that allow me to function normally." He takes a whiff of the silver powder. "No hunger, lust, or boredom. You can sit in your office and work without needing to think about anything else. Or anything else, really. If you think you're better off worse, I'm good with that. Everyone's buying, and you being left out doesn't hurt my wallet... just my heart."
"Look, I don't do drugs... but, here, this should be enough for your troubles, right?" He says while tossing the... being.. 2 gold pieces.
He catches the gold in his skinny hand, and casts it to the ground. "I don't need your charity," he spits, blood and lymph running down his lips. His voice immediately softens, sounding more like an upset mother than a deranged monster as he rewraps the mangled mess that is his skull. "I just wanted to help..."
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
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(briefly. need to go in 5)
So spend your hours on
What you think I've done wrong
I know I'm in your mind
I've been here way too long
I want to spend my life
With those who've done me right
Your heart is frozen over
I'm a four-leaf clover
"Oh, c'mon, cousin. I've got everything. Cures for curses, STDs, burns, blood loss, blood pressure, diabetes, plague, shrapnel in your heart, everything. It's easy... just take a stab for me... C O U S I N... Hhhhhakekekekeke..."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Okay, can you make the intro?*
He laughs again. "Oh, but I can. I can burn it out of you for a small fee of four silver every time it gets to be that time. I can rip the thoughts out of your pretty little head with a cheap little blend."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"Of course." He spins his way over the short distance, moving so fast it's hard to see him. He draws a little bag of silver powder from his coat. "All the more reason to purge those nasty urges. Don't wanna pick up all those ladies while addled." Blood drips from his eye sockets as his skinny body bows. "Just four little dimes, and you'll be safe. Non-addictive, utterly harmless. You can't get (GP) like this without a prescription, handsome, so you can call me God, or perhaps just Cathan."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Sure! You start, and then I'll pick my characters.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
hello my frenindds
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)
*Okay, I’ll list all the main ones*
Rag is being Rag, which means he’s working out best he can.
John is napping as well as Grove, the suit of armor and the man in armor taking a rest in the tavern.
Benimaru is defeating the infernals that have been created by the bugs he doesn’t know about.
It seems to come from a nearby forest, along with an enticing smell
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)
He twists his head to an unnatural angle. "What's wrong? You scared?" He says scared with a strange tone. He's savoring the indecision. "My meds are the real (GP). I can show you. Nothing healthier, nothing safer. I can demonstrate, even." Cathan seems to be everywhere, inescapable, too fast to be human. He begins to peel off his headscarf, and... oh.. no...
The least graphic depiction I can give is that it's like someone got a rotten jack-o-lantern and glued burnt hamburger to it, then drugged it to the gills, and sent it out to die on the front lines of WWI. "I shouldn't be alive, let alone able to dance and speak. It's my products that allow me to function normally." He takes a whiff of the silver powder. "No hunger, lust, or boredom. You can sit in your office and work without needing to think about anything else. Or anything else, really. If you think you're better off worse, I'm good with that. Everyone's buying, and you being left out doesn't hurt my wallet... just my heart."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
A highly-complex, bottle green and pink wheelchair rolls up. There is a canopy over it, shadowing the owner. The spokes of the wheels seem to be articulated mannequin arms. A pair of shining spectacles, curly-toed boots, and heat-proof gloves on the surreal controls are the only visible parts of the lanky being inside. They don't say a thing, but whoever is inside doesn't give off any aura of power or menace. Odds are they actually need that wheelchair.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He catches the gold in his skinny hand, and casts it to the ground. "I don't need your charity," he spits, blood and lymph running down his lips. His voice immediately softens, sounding more like an upset mother than a deranged monster as he rewraps the mangled mess that is his skull. "I just wanted to help..."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels