Motivations, I have lost them.

[Suu]

Well, I just settled in after a day of cleaning the fuck out of my apartment to draw some MSY and can't do it. I'm sitting here staring at blank boards like WTF.



ITT, you all motivate me. GO!

[the last yatto]

If you finish the issue before the day is over
I promise to not post here for at least a month

[Suu]

If you finish the issue before the day is over
I promise to not post here for at least a month

HAHHAHAHAHAHA. At this rate, I'll be lucky to finish the issue before the month is over.

-Suu
Hired a goddamn assistant for a reason.

[the last yatto]

I have some comic con swag left, that I could bribe you with...

[Adios]

DO IT FOR LOVE

[Richter]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tfL9RlVe-g4

[Kai]

Well, I just settled in after a day of cleaning the fuck out of my apartment to draw some MSY and can't do it. I'm sitting here staring at blank boards like WTF.



ITT, you all motivate me. GO!

For every line you etch, a bedbug somewhere dies.

[Eater of Clowns]

DO IT FOR LOVE

YOU FOOL!  You know not the terror the Princess Kaosuu wreaks upon her lands!  It is said that once, when asked for pitance for the good of her subjects, out of the kindness and love in her heart, she had the young man served as a special in an unknown Italian restaurant on Federal Hill.  His horse was decapitated, then had its head sewn on the exhumed corpse of the horse that was killed in The Godfather, then RE-BURIED in Seabiscuit's grave.  This is, of course, not an uncommon practice in these lands and this humble Baron has more than once performed similar feats, but the terrifying part is when one looks at the quality of stitching on the monstrosity it becomes clear that the feat was done by the Princess herself!

Only displays of cunning and ruthlessness are motivating factors in our fair realm.  Princess Kaosuu, hear me, Baron Eater of Clowns, and know that I speak truth.  In an abandoned corner of my city sits a house in impeccable condition but never spoken of but in hushed tones.  Ordinary looking individuals can be seen entering and exiting the house, always through doors that look perhaps a bit too sturdy and peeking out windows that seem, well, oddly thick for such a place.  Many a time, late at night, cars with dark windows come and go from a garage built, oddly, under the hill the house rests on.  Muffled cries and shuffling are lost in the night.

This is one of my places, my secret places in the Barony that, shall we say, helps keep things on this side of the bridge running smoothly.  I trust you with this secret, as I'm sure you're already aware of its existence else you wouldn't have found yourself in the spot of such power very long.  But even the disappearances linked to the location are a cover.  In the basement, through lock and key and trap and vault, there is a single secret I've kept until this day.

You're aware of the Portuguese Feast, of course.  You are not aware of the horrible liquids such a concentration of awful people produce.  Liquids of alcohol and the results of the overconsumption of alcohol.  Liquids of beauty and of sex and of, well, bodily function.  Those have all ben squirreled away to my dark purpose.  For each feast for a decade.  You're aware of our old days whaling, but perhaps not the fermented leftovers of the whales after they've been picked of bone and oil, the leftovers that have been kept.  You're aware of the grease traps of restaurants in our area from all the linguica and cacoila and chourico, but not of where it all goes.

It's all there, in that basement, together in one enormous vat of dead sea giants and the refuse that even scum won't accept.  In it grows a creature of such powerful hatred and vile origin that we have not yet named it for the tongues of those who have tried have shriveled from their mouths before they succumbed to madness.  They were then added to the vat.  It is young yet, and will take some time to mature.  But hear me well:  If you do not begin your productivity, and soon, you will find a drop, just a single drop, of that vat liquid, in your nice freshly cleaned apartment.

[Eater of Clowns]

It's all there, in that basement, together in one enormous vat of dead sea giants and the refuse that even scum won't accept.  In it grows a creature of such powerful hatred and vile origin that we have not yet named it for the tongues of those who have tried have shriveled from their mouths before they succumbed to madness.  They were then added to the vat.  It is young yet, and will take some time to mature.  But hear me well:  If you do not begin your productivity, and soon, you will find a drop, just a single drop, of that vat liquid, in your nice freshly cleaned apartment.

Disregard this part.  Evidently we're calling it Harold.  I am, just, so pissed at that henchman.

[the last yatto]

I have some comic con swag left, that I could bribe you with...

Example this huge temporary tattoo

[Prince Glittersnatch III]

Every time you accomplish one of your goals Eris kills a juggallo, or a hipster. Whichever motivates you best.

[Cain]

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MotiveDecay

Look at all the terrible ends people who succumbed to motive decay suffered.

[Suu]

Well, I just settled in after a day of cleaning the fuck out of my apartment to draw some MSY and can't do it. I'm sitting here staring at blank boards like WTF.



ITT, you all motivate me. GO!

For every line you etch, a bedbug somewhere dies.

OH SNAP.

[Triple Zero]

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MotiveDecay

Look at all the terrible ends people who succumbed to motive decay suffered.

I lost three hours of my day thanks to that link.

[Doktor Howl]

Well, I just settled in after a day of cleaning the fuck out of my apartment to draw some MSY and can't do it. I'm sitting here staring at blank boards like WTF.



ITT, you all motivate me. GO!

If you don't get back to work, I shall hire Dimo to break into your apartment and smear his Dago feces all over your walls.