A monster is somewhere in a barnyard, while the screeching of chickens can be heard, as a headless chicken runs from behind a stack of hay before falling over.
*You start exactly like that.*
A teen punk with a shock of long, unevenly cut pink hair and a black jacket that screams SAVE OUR SORRY SOULS on the back in red letters was spray painting a cat chewing on a mouse on the back of the barn. He spots the chicken as it collapses not far from him. "Headless heathens have..." he walks over to it muttering something unintelligible. He paints murder outline out the chicken before turning to look inside the barn. "Yo! You left the best part! All the meats on the body you brain-eating freak! Ha ha ha!"
The creature looks upon the teenager in confusion before taking a knife out of it's belt and throwing it from the rafters before climbing down and grabbing the chicken.
The knife clatters to the ground at his feet. He bends down and picks up the blade. "That's not how you're supposed to hand someone a knife. You'd lose all corners of your totin' chip if you were a Boy Scout. You got some old fashioned digs... but I got to say I like it." He says as he looks around.
The creature tucks the chicken into it's belt as it scuttles over before stands up on two feet and latches his hands onto the boy's, trying to rip the knife out of his hands. "GIVE IT!!!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
A monster is somewhere in a barnyard, while the screeching of chickens can be heard, as a headless chicken runs from behind a stack of hay before falling over.
*You start exactly like that.*
A teen punk with a shock of long, unevenly cut pink hair and a black jacket that screams SAVE OUR SORRY SOULS on the back in red letters was spray painting a cat chewing on a mouse on the back of the barn. He spots the chicken as it collapses not far from him. "Headless heathens have..." he walks over to it muttering something unintelligible. He paints murder outline out the chicken before turning to look inside the barn. "Yo! You left the best part! All the meats on the body you brain-eating freak! Ha ha ha!"
The creature looks upon the teenager in confusion before taking a knife out of it's belt and throwing it from the rafters before climbing down and grabbing the chicken.
The knife clatters to the ground at his feet. He bends down and picks up the blade. "That's not how you're supposed to hand someone a knife. You'd lose all corners of your totin' chip if you were a Boy Scout. You got some old fashioned digs... but I got to say I like it." He says as he looks around.
The creature tucks the chicken into it's belt as it scuttles over before stands up on two feet and latches his hands onto the boy's, trying to rip the knife out of his hands. "GIVE IT!!!"
Smoke begins to curl out from under your fingers as you grasp his wrists and a searing pain shoots through your nerve system as if you had touched red hot metal. He drops the knife to the dirt and takes a step back. “Hands off narc!” He rolls his sleeves up, revealing arms stained in tattoos that steam from your touch. “Look but don’t touch. Haha! If you wanted your toy just ask for it. What’s your deal man?”
A monster is somewhere in a barnyard, while the screeching of chickens can be heard, as a headless chicken runs from behind a stack of hay before falling over.
*You start exactly like that.*
A teen punk with a shock of long, unevenly cut pink hair and a black jacket that screams SAVE OUR SORRY SOULS on the back in red letters was spray painting a cat chewing on a mouse on the back of the barn. He spots the chicken as it collapses not far from him. "Headless heathens have..." he walks over to it muttering something unintelligible. He paints murder outline out the chicken before turning to look inside the barn. "Yo! You left the best part! All the meats on the body you brain-eating freak! Ha ha ha!"
The creature looks upon the teenager in confusion before taking a knife out of it's belt and throwing it from the rafters before climbing down and grabbing the chicken.
The knife clatters to the ground at his feet. He bends down and picks up the blade. "That's not how you're supposed to hand someone a knife. You'd lose all corners of your totin' chip if you were a Boy Scout. You got some old fashioned digs... but I got to say I like it." He says as he looks around.
The creature tucks the chicken into it's belt as it scuttles over before stands up on two feet and latches his hands onto the boy's, trying to rip the knife out of his hands. "GIVE IT!!!"
Smoke begins to curl out from under your fingers as you grasp his wrists and a searing pain shoots through your nerve system as if you had touched red hot metal. He drops the knife to the dirt and takes a step back. “Hands off narc!” He rolls his sleeves up, revealing arms stained in tattoos that steam from your touch. “Look but don’t touch. Haha! If you wanted your toy just ask for it. What’s your deal man?”
The creature falls back onto the ground, using one hand to grab the knife and put it back in it's belt. It then scurries off to go find some water to dip it's burnt hands in.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
A monster is somewhere in a barnyard, while the screeching of chickens can be heard, as a headless chicken runs from behind a stack of hay before falling over.
*You start exactly like that.*
A teen punk with a shock of long, unevenly cut pink hair and a black jacket that screams SAVE OUR SORRY SOULS on the back in red letters was spray painting a cat chewing on a mouse on the back of the barn. He spots the chicken as it collapses not far from him. "Headless heathens have..." he walks over to it muttering something unintelligible. He paints murder outline out the chicken before turning to look inside the barn. "Yo! You left the best part! All the meats on the body you brain-eating freak! Ha ha ha!"
The creature looks upon the teenager in confusion before taking a knife out of it's belt and throwing it from the rafters before climbing down and grabbing the chicken.
The knife clatters to the ground at his feet. He bends down and picks up the blade. "That's not how you're supposed to hand someone a knife. You'd lose all corners of your totin' chip if you were a Boy Scout. You got some old fashioned digs... but I got to say I like it." He says as he looks around.
The creature tucks the chicken into it's belt as it scuttles over before stands up on two feet and latches his hands onto the boy's, trying to rip the knife out of his hands. "GIVE IT!!!"
Smoke begins to curl out from under your fingers as you grasp his wrists and a searing pain shoots through your nerve system as if you had touched red hot metal. He drops the knife to the dirt and takes a step back. “Hands off narc!” He rolls his sleeves up, revealing arms stained in tattoos that steam from your touch. “Look but don’t touch. Haha! If you wanted your toy just ask for it. What’s your deal man?”
The creature falls back onto the ground, using one hand to grab the knife and put it back in it's belt. It then scurries off to go find some water to dip it's burnt hands in.
The punk tramps after him, his boots grinding the dirt beneath his feet. “Who are you? The Nightmare of cow pies?”
A monster is somewhere in a barnyard, while the screeching of chickens can be heard, as a headless chicken runs from behind a stack of hay before falling over.
*You start exactly like that.*
A teen punk with a shock of long, unevenly cut pink hair and a black jacket that screams SAVE OUR SORRY SOULS on the back in red letters was spray painting a cat chewing on a mouse on the back of the barn. He spots the chicken as it collapses not far from him. "Headless heathens have..." he walks over to it muttering something unintelligible. He paints murder outline out the chicken before turning to look inside the barn. "Yo! You left the best part! All the meats on the body you brain-eating freak! Ha ha ha!"
The creature looks upon the teenager in confusion before taking a knife out of it's belt and throwing it from the rafters before climbing down and grabbing the chicken.
The knife clatters to the ground at his feet. He bends down and picks up the blade. "That's not how you're supposed to hand someone a knife. You'd lose all corners of your totin' chip if you were a Boy Scout. You got some old fashioned digs... but I got to say I like it." He says as he looks around.
The creature tucks the chicken into it's belt as it scuttles over before stands up on two feet and latches his hands onto the boy's, trying to rip the knife out of his hands. "GIVE IT!!!"
Smoke begins to curl out from under your fingers as you grasp his wrists and a searing pain shoots through your nerve system as if you had touched red hot metal. He drops the knife to the dirt and takes a step back. “Hands off narc!” He rolls his sleeves up, revealing arms stained in tattoos that steam from your touch. “Look but don’t touch. Haha! If you wanted your toy just ask for it. What’s your deal man?”
The creature falls back onto the ground, using one hand to grab the knife and put it back in it's belt. It then scurries off to go find some water to dip it's burnt hands in.
The punk tramps after him, his boots grinding the dirt beneath his feet. “Who are you? The Nightmare of cow pies?”
The creature does what sounds like a raspberry as it shoves it's hands in a trough full of water.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
A monster is somewhere in a barnyard, while the screeching of chickens can be heard, as a headless chicken runs from behind a stack of hay before falling over.
*You start exactly like that.*
A teen punk with a shock of long, unevenly cut pink hair and a black jacket that screams SAVE OUR SORRY SOULS on the back in red letters was spray painting a cat chewing on a mouse on the back of the barn. He spots the chicken as it collapses not far from him. "Headless heathens have..." he walks over to it muttering something unintelligible. He paints murder outline out the chicken before turning to look inside the barn. "Yo! You left the best part! All the meats on the body you brain-eating freak! Ha ha ha!"
The creature looks upon the teenager in confusion before taking a knife out of it's belt and throwing it from the rafters before climbing down and grabbing the chicken.
The knife clatters to the ground at his feet. He bends down and picks up the blade. "That's not how you're supposed to hand someone a knife. You'd lose all corners of your totin' chip if you were a Boy Scout. You got some old fashioned digs... but I got to say I like it." He says as he looks around.
The creature tucks the chicken into it's belt as it scuttles over before stands up on two feet and latches his hands onto the boy's, trying to rip the knife out of his hands. "GIVE IT!!!"
Smoke begins to curl out from under your fingers as you grasp his wrists and a searing pain shoots through your nerve system as if you had touched red hot metal. He drops the knife to the dirt and takes a step back. “Hands off narc!” He rolls his sleeves up, revealing arms stained in tattoos that steam from your touch. “Look but don’t touch. Haha! If you wanted your toy just ask for it. What’s your deal man?”
The creature falls back onto the ground, using one hand to grab the knife and put it back in it's belt. It then scurries off to go find some water to dip it's burnt hands in.
The punk tramps after him, his boots grinding the dirt beneath his feet. “Who are you? The Nightmare of cow pies?”
The creature does what sounds like a raspberry as it shoves it's hands in a trough full of water.
“I do like your haunt. Maybe if we become buddies I’ll hang round here more often. What do you think about that? You’d have to stop throwing knives at me, it’s not constructive to a healthy relationship.” He shakes his head, watching you, “I don’t have a good garage, this place would keep my ride out of the weather.”
A monster is somewhere in a barnyard, while the screeching of chickens can be heard, as a headless chicken runs from behind a stack of hay before falling over.
*You start exactly like that.*
A teen punk with a shock of long, unevenly cut pink hair and a black jacket that screams SAVE OUR SORRY SOULS on the back in red letters was spray painting a cat chewing on a mouse on the back of the barn. He spots the chicken as it collapses not far from him. "Headless heathens have..." he walks over to it muttering something unintelligible. He paints murder outline out the chicken before turning to look inside the barn. "Yo! You left the best part! All the meats on the body you brain-eating freak! Ha ha ha!"
The creature looks upon the teenager in confusion before taking a knife out of it's belt and throwing it from the rafters before climbing down and grabbing the chicken.
The knife clatters to the ground at his feet. He bends down and picks up the blade. "That's not how you're supposed to hand someone a knife. You'd lose all corners of your totin' chip if you were a Boy Scout. You got some old fashioned digs... but I got to say I like it." He says as he looks around.
The creature tucks the chicken into it's belt as it scuttles over before stands up on two feet and latches his hands onto the boy's, trying to rip the knife out of his hands. "GIVE IT!!!"
Smoke begins to curl out from under your fingers as you grasp his wrists and a searing pain shoots through your nerve system as if you had touched red hot metal. He drops the knife to the dirt and takes a step back. “Hands off narc!” He rolls his sleeves up, revealing arms stained in tattoos that steam from your touch. “Look but don’t touch. Haha! If you wanted your toy just ask for it. What’s your deal man?”
The creature falls back onto the ground, using one hand to grab the knife and put it back in it's belt. It then scurries off to go find some water to dip it's burnt hands in.
The punk tramps after him, his boots grinding the dirt beneath his feet. “Who are you? The Nightmare of cow pies?”
The creature does what sounds like a raspberry as it shoves it's hands in a trough full of water.
“I do like your haunt. Maybe if we become buddies I’ll hang round here more often. What do you think about that? You’d have to stop throwing knives at me, it’s not constructive to a healthy relationship.” He shakes his head, watching you, “I don’t have a good garage, this place would keep my ride out of the weather.”
"I'M TRYING TO KILL YOU!!!" The creature screeches before stomping on his foot.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
“I do like your haunt. Maybe if we become buddies I’ll hang round here more often. What do you think about that? You’d have to stop throwing knives at me, it’s not constructive to a healthy relationship.” He shakes his head, watching you, “I don’t have a good garage, this place would keep my ride out of the weather.”
"I'M TRYING TO KILL YOU!!!" The creature screeches before stomping on his foot.
"Dang, so... I can't use your digs as a garage then?" He says as he moves his foot out of the way. "What're you trying to kill me for?"
“I do like your haunt. Maybe if we become buddies I’ll hang round here more often. What do you think about that? You’d have to stop throwing knives at me, it’s not constructive to a healthy relationship.” He shakes his head, watching you, “I don’t have a good garage, this place would keep my ride out of the weather.”
"I'M TRYING TO KILL YOU!!!" The creature screeches before stomping on his foot.
"Dang, so... I can't use your digs as a garage then?" He says as he moves his foot out of the way. "What're you trying to kill me for?"
"BECAUSE, I'M A CRAZED MURDEROUS HERMIT, OBVIOUSLY!!!" The creature then slaps the teen.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
“I do like your haunt. Maybe if we become buddies I’ll hang round here more often. What do you think about that? You’d have to stop throwing knives at me, it’s not constructive to a healthy relationship.” He shakes his head, watching you, “I don’t have a good garage, this place would keep my ride out of the weather.”
"I'M TRYING TO KILL YOU!!!" The creature screeches before stomping on his foot.
"Dang, so... I can't use your digs as a garage then?" He says as he moves his foot out of the way. "What're you trying to kill me for?"
"BECAUSE, I'M A CRAZED MURDEROUS HERMIT, OBVIOUSLY!!!" The creature then slaps the teen.
He moves his arm to block it and his tattoos steam as you make contact, burning you again. “Alright old man. I’ve had enough. I gave you plenty of grace…” the punk somehow steps in four different directions at once. Four identical punks stand where there was once one. The only difference between them is that they each have a different colored shock of hair. One red, one pink, one green, and one blue. “…But now I’m all out of patience. I’ve been itching for a good brawl anyways.” The four intruders descend on the hermit, punching and kicking and driving elbows and knees down with sledgehammer force.
the jigsaw man, in a new skinsuit, is prowling around, looking for prey
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Pronouns: Any/All
About Me: Godless monster in human form bent on extending their natural life to unnatural extremes /general of the goose horde /holder of the evil storyteller badge of no honor /king of madness /The FBI/ The Archmage of I CAST...!
The McCalisters were eating breakfast in their new 2,500 square feet, three bed room house. Their family were new to the town of Balios, they only moved in two weeks ago. Mr. McCalister had been warned in passing by the old homeowner that the place was supposedly haunted by he wasn't the sort to believe in that sort of thing.
There were still plenty of boxes piled up, waiting to be unpacked and spread evenly across the rooms like fertilizer in a garden. When the McCalisters had moved in, the house was completely empty except for a dusty old mirror in a closet. It was a nice mirror, so Mr. McCalister set it up temporarily in his library. He was quite the bibliophile.
Mr. McCalister was wiping the last finger-full of toast in the oozing puddle of yellow yolk on his plate. He was reading Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes at the table. He had the habit of reading whatever his children were going through in their school literature classes. He almost dropped the book on his sticky plate when he heard a loud crash in the room directly above him.
He froze, as did the rest of his family. He scanned the room, Jane, Daniel, Matthew, Jackie, his kids were all present and accounted for and his wife was right there next to him. A pained scream rang through the house and was followed by the loud banging of someone rushing through the house and down the stairs. Mr. McCalister leapt his feet, toast oozing yellow in one hand and Bradbury in the other. As he moved towards the stairs, a whirling mass tumbled headlong down the steps, limbs flailing.
The thing smashed onto the carpet at the foot of the stairs but it didn't stay there long. It quickly rose to its feet as the McCalister family stared at it in horror. It was something human like in shape, but emaciated beyond death and covered in withered, steaming skin as if it had just suffered severe burns. Strangely, it wore an old fashioned, cheap, brown suit that was ruffled from the fall but not scorched in any way. The steam obscured the creature's face, but it clearly looked the McCalister family over for a few moments. Then it gave out a short hard bark that may have supposed to have been a laugh and lurched towards Mr. McCalister. A withered talon of a hand shot out and snatched the book out from his fingers before the creature raced out of the house shouting in a torn voice, "We're back in business baby!"
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
Jamie, currently, is in a convenience store shoveling Juniors Mints into her dark green backpack at 6:54 PM.
a man, whose skin is a patchwork of different skin tones and textures, is also in the store, taking a few six-packs of hard lemonade
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Pronouns: Any/All
About Me: Godless monster in human form bent on extending their natural life to unnatural extremes /general of the goose horde /holder of the evil storyteller badge of no honor /king of madness /The FBI/ The Archmage of I CAST...!
Jamie, currently, is in a convenience store shoveling Juniors Mints into her dark green backpack at 6:54 PM.
a man, whose skin is a patchwork of different skin tones and textures, is also in the store, taking a few six-packs of hard lemonade
After filling her backpack with a series of Junior MInts, Coca-Cola, and pre-made ham sandwiches, she promptly puts the bag back on and skedaddles without paying.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
Jamie, currently, is in a convenience store shoveling Juniors Mints into her dark green backpack at 6:54 PM.
a man, whose skin is a patchwork of different skin tones and textures, is also in the store, taking a few six-packs of hard lemonade
After filling her backpack with a series of Junior MInts, Coca-Cola, and pre-made ham sandwiches, she promptly puts the bag back on and skedaddles without paying.
the man's neck twits oddly to watch her leave, before leaving themselves, their hands full with two six-packs
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Pronouns: Any/All
About Me: Godless monster in human form bent on extending their natural life to unnatural extremes /general of the goose horde /holder of the evil storyteller badge of no honor /king of madness /The FBI/ The Archmage of I CAST...!
The creature tucks the chicken into it's belt as it scuttles over before stands up on two feet and latches his hands onto the boy's, trying to rip the knife out of his hands. "GIVE IT!!!"
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
Smoke begins to curl out from under your fingers as you grasp his wrists and a searing pain shoots through your nerve system as if you had touched red hot metal. He drops the knife to the dirt and takes a step back. “Hands off narc!” He rolls his sleeves up, revealing arms stained in tattoos that steam from your touch. “Look but don’t touch. Haha! If you wanted your toy just ask for it. What’s your deal man?”
The creature falls back onto the ground, using one hand to grab the knife and put it back in it's belt. It then scurries off to go find some water to dip it's burnt hands in.
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
The punk tramps after him, his boots grinding the dirt beneath his feet. “Who are you? The Nightmare of cow pies?”
*Coming up with an intro as we speak*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
The creature does what sounds like a raspberry as it shoves it's hands in a trough full of water.
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
*Looking forward to seeing it!*
“I do like your haunt. Maybe if we become buddies I’ll hang round here more often. What do you think about that? You’d have to stop throwing knives at me, it’s not constructive to a healthy relationship.” He shakes his head, watching you, “I don’t have a good garage, this place would keep my ride out of the weather.”
"I'M TRYING TO KILL YOU!!!" The creature screeches before stomping on his foot.
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
"Dang, so... I can't use your digs as a garage then?" He says as he moves his foot out of the way. "What're you trying to kill me for?"
"BECAUSE, I'M A CRAZED MURDEROUS HERMIT, OBVIOUSLY!!!" The creature then slaps the teen.
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
He moves his arm to block it and his tattoos steam as you make contact, burning you again. “Alright old man. I’ve had enough. I gave you plenty of grace…” the punk somehow steps in four different directions at once. Four identical punks stand where there was once one. The only difference between them is that they each have a different colored shock of hair. One red, one pink, one green, and one blue. “…But now I’m all out of patience. I’ve been itching for a good brawl anyways.” The four intruders descend on the hermit, punching and kicking and driving elbows and knees down with sledgehammer force.
the jigsaw man, in a new skinsuit, is prowling around, looking for prey
Pronouns: Any/All
About Me: Godless monster in human form bent on extending their natural life to unnatural extremes /general of the goose horde /holder of the evil storyteller badge of no honor /king of madness /The FBI/ The Archmage of I CAST...!
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Currently rampaging through life
The McCalisters were eating breakfast in their new 2,500 square feet, three bed room house. Their family were new to the town of Balios, they only moved in two weeks ago. Mr. McCalister had been warned in passing by the old homeowner that the place was supposedly haunted by he wasn't the sort to believe in that sort of thing.
There were still plenty of boxes piled up, waiting to be unpacked and spread evenly across the rooms like fertilizer in a garden. When the McCalisters had moved in, the house was completely empty except for a dusty old mirror in a closet. It was a nice mirror, so Mr. McCalister set it up temporarily in his library. He was quite the bibliophile.
Mr. McCalister was wiping the last finger-full of toast in the oozing puddle of yellow yolk on his plate. He was reading Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes at the table. He had the habit of reading whatever his children were going through in their school literature classes. He almost dropped the book on his sticky plate when he heard a loud crash in the room directly above him.
He froze, as did the rest of his family. He scanned the room, Jane, Daniel, Matthew, Jackie, his kids were all present and accounted for and his wife was right there next to him. A pained scream rang through the house and was followed by the loud banging of someone rushing through the house and down the stairs. Mr. McCalister leapt his feet, toast oozing yellow in one hand and Bradbury in the other. As he moved towards the stairs, a whirling mass tumbled headlong down the steps, limbs flailing.
The thing smashed onto the carpet at the foot of the stairs but it didn't stay there long. It quickly rose to its feet as the McCalister family stared at it in horror. It was something human like in shape, but emaciated beyond death and covered in withered, steaming skin as if it had just suffered severe burns. Strangely, it wore an old fashioned, cheap, brown suit that was ruffled from the fall but not scorched in any way. The steam obscured the creature's face, but it clearly looked the McCalister family over for a few moments. Then it gave out a short hard bark that may have supposed to have been a laugh and lurched towards Mr. McCalister. A withered talon of a hand shot out and snatched the book out from his fingers before the creature raced out of the house shouting in a torn voice, "We're back in business baby!"
The being is walking around Balios
Artise
Totally not part Asian
Has cars (cats)
*we still have hope
new dudette
https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/154706257*
Jamie, currently, is in a convenience store shoveling Juniors Mints into her dark green backpack at 6:54 PM.
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
a man, whose skin is a patchwork of different skin tones and textures, is also in the store, taking a few six-packs of hard lemonade
Pronouns: Any/All
About Me: Godless monster in human form bent on extending their natural life to unnatural extremes /general of the goose horde /holder of the evil storyteller badge of no honor /king of madness /The FBI/ The Archmage of I CAST...!
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Currently rampaging through life
After filling her backpack with a series of Junior MInts, Coca-Cola, and pre-made ham sandwiches, she promptly puts the bag back on and skedaddles without paying.
Goobertio the Endurant, lord of dad jokes, wielder of taco rage, creator of ASCII art, champion cheese devourer, scholar of the texts of Adohand Gatorslayer. One of the two husbands of mothman. The other one is SalemTheArtificer.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you are!" TheGatoLover said to me. He was right. I simp for him.
I'm a sensitive short foodie that loves Fallout, the Dover Demon, cryptids in general, propaganda posters, and you. My extended sig is here.
the man's neck twits oddly to watch her leave, before leaving themselves, their hands full with two six-packs
Pronouns: Any/All
About Me: Godless monster in human form bent on extending their natural life to unnatural extremes /general of the goose horde /holder of the evil storyteller badge of no honor /king of madness /The FBI/ The Archmage of I CAST...!
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Currently rampaging through life
*I wanna make another character but idk*
Artise
Totally not part Asian
Has cars (cats)