wont you shake a poor sinner's hand?

indie / selective cuphead oc couleuvre. sideblog penned by ceres.

[damballahsmoved]

“ALRIGHT, ALRI--” 

Upon the fourth Nonnie’s arrival, he’d gotten the shotgun out. As soon as the godawful pun left the greyscale... he blew it’s petals clean off, grey dust shadowing over the floor. 

 “I get it,” he growled, through gritted teeth. Grabbing a dustpan, the bokor sweeped the flower’s remains into the trash can, expression sour. “I wanted to help, but now it seems like a daunting task, with all of your INCESSANT DRONING!” 

 Huffing, he tossed the broom to the side, grabbing a bag and beginning to shove it full of unidentifiable items.

 “Spirits, let us persist. There is a reckless, tiny cup boy that needs to be removed from a tree.”

[damballahsmoved]

I heard you helped a young gent fix himself up, starting with his voice.

“Ah… that fine, young gentleman. Yes, I suppose I could take credit for that. And a fine voice he has, hm? I’m one to be humble, but that is some of my finest work, I must say.”

[damballahsmoved]

That looks infected...

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.”

[chickadee-the-bartender]

“Hello I’m Chickadee the Bartender in the Devil’s Casino!”

Promo for my oc, Chickadee! Reblogs appreciated!

[damballahsmoved]

is it boker or bokor?

 “It’s bokor, but most English-speaking folk use boker, for a reason unbeknownst to me. It’s pronounced BOW-CORE, not BOW-KER. Must the English language complicate everything?”

[damballahsmoved]

❓

 “Hah! A secret room?”

 Hooting and shaking his head, the bokor waggled a single finger. Curious it was, to assume the mystery man had a room, hidden from the world. 

 “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

[damballahsmoved]

setting up shop.

[relentless-optimist]

Reblog if I can straight up ask you for a RP.

[missninetails-deactivated202512]

So many of you I wanna ask!

[damballahsmoved]

                                          DR. COULEUVRE IN                                          

                                        VOODOO VATICINATE

rules / about 

 like or reblog if you’d be interested in interacting with the voodoo doctor!

[damballahsmoved]

pride.

 “I’m just a bit too prideful of my work in Voodoo, I suppose.” Chuckling, the bokor folded his hands over his lap, gears turning in his head as he thought of a particular instance of the sin of pride. 

 “When I was twenty-five, I boasted about my skills to speak with the deceased. I still do, of course, but the spirits decided to teach me a lesson for my ego– they were silent for a week. I had no source of income for that time, although, I was fine, but it spooked me senseless.” 

 He let out a laugh. “I’ve learned nothing, really.”

[damballahsmoved]

Sloth

 “Hard-hitting questions, those of sin.” Chuckling loudly, a finger was drawn to his chin before, he answered, a contemplative look smoothing his features. He leaned back into a chair, glancing to the window. It was late. 

 “What’ve I done correlating to sloth?” Asking this to the open air, he hummed. “Sloth has a many meanings, in history, though I suppose I’ll go with the general, most accepted definition: laziness, unwillingness to work, or help.” 

 His brows pinched, but only for a moment. 

 “I’ve always been a hard worker– I’ve had to be, but.. when I was a child, there was an old man on the street, and he’d fallen. And.. I ran. I’m not sure why, still to this day, but I ran when my help was needed. Not my best moment.”

[damballahsmoved]

@sugcrlcnd-princxss

 “Miss Bon Bon, I presume.” 

  Eyeing the candy lady with a soft expression, an elbow leaning on a cane decorated honeycomb yellow, skulls and other decor lining the staff top to bottom. 

He’d been meaning to get around to her for quite some time now, but issues, had him ... held up. 

 Hm. 

 “It’s a pleasure, ma’am.” A hand was held out to her, a grin coming to the bokor’s face as he did. It was unfortunate he’d not been able to get around her sooner.

 “Would you like a reading?”

[damballahsmoved]

papa, you really need a girlfriend or boyfriend or somethin. you seem so lonely out here by yourself!

 Snorting, the bokor cast a sidelong glance at the greyscale flower. “Are you off your rocker? I live with at least twenty spirits, and you all keep me busy. I have a dog, and …” 

 He paused, clearing his throat. 

 “Maybe I need to actually go into town every once and a while…”

[horrificmemes]

Send my muse a deadly sin and they’ll confess to something they’ve done related to that sin.

For reference: pride, greed, gluttony, lust, envy, sloth, and wrath.

[emptyzone-a]

damballahs 

  Mari had wandered into the woods often, familiar or not, to grow some flowers. She hadn’t expected signs all over the place. She let out a soft ‘mew’ as she nearly bumped into one while walking along. Couleuvre? Didn’t sound familiar at all. Se was curious, as usual. What was a voodoo? Mari casually decided to follow the signs. What harm could it do? She was a hero, she told herself, she could defend herself if anything went wrong!

[damballahsmoved]

 Why, he’d not expected visitors on this day. 

The spirits had called to him in the midst of his nap, whispering something or another about daytime visitors and a cactus cat. He figured he’d misheard the bunch, slipping off his nightgown and changing into his business suit and robe. 

 Glancing out the window, he found they’d not been fooling him something silly, rather, there was a ... cactus cat outside, indeed.

 She seemed lost, and that would not stand. 

 Lifting the window, the bokor promptly stuck his head out and whistled. 

 “Greetings, Miss! You’ve seemed to stumble up to my voodoo cabin. Are you lost?”

 Perhaps the spirits had guided her here.

[damballahsmoved]

Do you know what's up Inkwell Peak?

In the middle of sorting potions, the bokor stopped. 

 He looked down to the greyscale flower, holding his breath as if it would make him unavailable to answer. He swallowed. 

 “I plead the fifth.”

[damballahsmoved]

Entry 1: It’s a Little Too Late

“Well, if it ain’t the fiend himself! Howdy, Dr. Couleuvre!”

 That voice. 

 That voice.

  Immediately, the bokor had whipped around, expression accusatory. He hoped it was some cruel prank pulled by the greyscales, with an on-the-dot impression of the fiendish wolf-dog. 

 It, in fact, was no miscellaneous, wicked flower.

 It was something much, much worse. 

 Snarling, he spat,“It’d be in your best interests to take leave, before I blow that stupid grin right off of your face.” He blinked once he heard a bout of laughter from the short brute, the cackling grating on his ears. His face scrunched up distastefully. 

 “Hey, hey.” Watching the wolf-dog like a hawk, his eyes followed the waving motion of the little maniac’s arms. “I’m not here for trouble, old man. I’m here to apologize.” 

 Anger boiled to the surface in a wave, and instantly, the bokor was upon Batty, grabbing his bandanna with a fist clutched tight, his other ready to knock those imperfect teeth right out of the swine’s mouth. 

 “’Sorry’ will not bring back the child you murdered.”