nestling itself into the foundations of a village. Or, a many-legged thing from the far realm slipped through the folds of reality into ours, hiding beneath a city’s sewers and pupating into something more. Or perhaps, it gained life and breath by drinking the blood of those who were felled within its cobbled streets. Nobody knows quite where Fidelir came from, and it’s probably better that way.
A parasite disguised as a Utopia, Fidelir, Gailen’s gate, the Marching City, is a marble metropolis of stone and wood. But it lives. The chimneys of it’s houses are Fidelir’s lungs, it’s streets are it’s arteries and it’s alleyways are its capillaries. It’s skin are the titanic walls that guard its inner depths, the keep at the center of the city is Fidelir’s head, the throne room is their mind, the bell tower above the keep is the creature’s voice, and deep, deep, deep below the city is the creature’s pulsing, beating heart. The city, on the surface, is made of pristine materials, chiseled marble and the strongest of woods, but just a few inches beneath that outer layer is flesh. Flesh and veins and muscles.
Fidelir is always growing. Its citizens build new homes and taverns, shops and inns, out of materials harvested from nearby, and the parasitic tendrils of Fidelir take over the homes and spread, growing larger and larger. The city moves, slowly, drifting across the land a few thousand feet a day. Eventually, it comes across another city. Fidelir eats cities.
The citizens of Fidelir are mostly former residents of cities Fidelir has merged with, or travelers seeking refuge. As Fidelir’s size grew, so did its power. Fidelir has an influence on the minds of those within it. When Fidelir was but a fraction of a fraction of its current size, this simply allowed it to sway people into staying. But with its current strength, more than a month inside Fidelir could possibly put you under its sway completely, as you forget your previous life and refuse to leave the marching city.
Fidelir can rearrange itself completely in the span of hours, seamlessly shifting streets and houses to whatever arrangement most suits it. The city can repair itself and cannot be destroyed permanently unless you pierce its heart. If the city is razed but the heart is not destroyed, then Fidelir’s heart may slink away to safety- until it finds another structure, even just a house or barn, to infect, and starting the process all over again.
Oooooooo that’s really cool
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
nestling itself into the foundations of a village. Or, a many-legged thing from the far realm slipped through the folds of reality into ours, hiding beneath a city’s sewers and pupating into something more. Or perhaps, it gained life and breath by drinking the blood of those who were felled within its cobbled streets. Nobody knows quite where Fidelir came from, and it’s probably better that way.
A parasite disguised as a Utopia, Fidelir, Gailen’s gate, the Marching City, is a marble metropolis of stone and wood. But it lives. The chimneys of it’s houses are Fidelir’s lungs, it’s streets are it’s arteries and it’s alleyways are its capillaries. It’s skin are the titanic walls that guard its inner depths, the keep at the center of the city is Fidelir’s head, the throne room is their mind, the bell tower above the keep is the creature’s voice, and deep, deep, deep below the city is the creature’s pulsing, beating heart. The city, on the surface, is made of pristine materials, chiseled marble and the strongest of woods, but just a few inches beneath that outer layer is flesh. Flesh and veins and muscles.
Fidelir is always growing. Its citizens build new homes and taverns, shops and inns, out of materials harvested from nearby, and the parasitic tendrils of Fidelir take over the homes and spread, growing larger and larger. The city moves, slowly, drifting across the land a few thousand feet a day. Eventually, it comes across another city. Fidelir eats cities.
The citizens of Fidelir are mostly former residents of cities Fidelir has merged with, or travelers seeking refuge. As Fidelir’s size grew, so did its power. Fidelir has an influence on the minds of those within it. When Fidelir was but a fraction of a fraction of its current size, this simply allowed it to sway people into staying. But with its current strength, more than a month inside Fidelir could possibly put you under its sway completely, as you forget your previous life and refuse to leave the marching city.
Fidelir can rearrange itself completely in the span of hours, seamlessly shifting streets and houses to whatever arrangement most suits it. The city can repair itself and cannot be destroyed permanently unless you pierce its heart. If the city is razed but the heart is not destroyed, then Fidelir’s heart may slink away to safety- until it finds another structure, even just a house or barn, to infect, and starting the process all over again.
Oooooooo that’s really cool
‘llo Sel
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
nestling itself into the foundations of a village. Or, a many-legged thing from the far realm slipped through the folds of reality into ours, hiding beneath a city’s sewers and pupating into something more. Or perhaps, it gained life and breath by drinking the blood of those who were felled within its cobbled streets. Nobody knows quite where Fidelir came from, and it’s probably better that way.
A parasite disguised as a Utopia, Fidelir, Gailen’s gate, the Marching City, is a marble metropolis of stone and wood. But it lives. The chimneys of it’s houses are Fidelir’s lungs, it’s streets are it’s arteries and it’s alleyways are its capillaries. It’s skin are the titanic walls that guard its inner depths, the keep at the center of the city is Fidelir’s head, the throne room is their mind, the bell tower above the keep is the creature’s voice, and deep, deep, deep below the city is the creature’s pulsing, beating heart. The city, on the surface, is made of pristine materials, chiseled marble and the strongest of woods, but just a few inches beneath that outer layer is flesh. Flesh and veins and muscles.
Fidelir is always growing. Its citizens build new homes and taverns, shops and inns, out of materials harvested from nearby, and the parasitic tendrils of Fidelir take over the homes and spread, growing larger and larger. The city moves, slowly, drifting across the land a few thousand feet a day. Eventually, it comes across another city. Fidelir eats cities.
The citizens of Fidelir are mostly former residents of cities Fidelir has merged with, or travelers seeking refuge. As Fidelir’s size grew, so did its power. Fidelir has an influence on the minds of those within it. When Fidelir was but a fraction of a fraction of its current size, this simply allowed it to sway people into staying. But with its current strength, more than a month inside Fidelir could possibly put you under its sway completely, as you forget your previous life and refuse to leave the marching city.
Fidelir can rearrange itself completely in the span of hours, seamlessly shifting streets and houses to whatever arrangement most suits it. The city can repair itself and cannot be destroyed permanently unless you pierce its heart. If the city is razed but the heart is not destroyed, then Fidelir’s heart may slink away to safety- until it finds another structure, even just a house or barn, to infect, and starting the process all over again.
Oooooooo that’s really cool
‘llo Sel
How are you
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
nestling itself into the foundations of a village. Or, a many-legged thing from the far realm slipped through the folds of reality into ours, hiding beneath a city’s sewers and pupating into something more. Or perhaps, it gained life and breath by drinking the blood of those who were felled within its cobbled streets. Nobody knows quite where Fidelir came from, and it’s probably better that way.
A parasite disguised as a Utopia, Fidelir, Gailen’s gate, the Marching City, is a marble metropolis of stone and wood. But it lives. The chimneys of it’s houses are Fidelir’s lungs, it’s streets are it’s arteries and it’s alleyways are its capillaries. It’s skin are the titanic walls that guard its inner depths, the keep at the center of the city is Fidelir’s head, the throne room is their mind, the bell tower above the keep is the creature’s voice, and deep, deep, deep below the city is the creature’s pulsing, beating heart. The city, on the surface, is made of pristine materials, chiseled marble and the strongest of woods, but just a few inches beneath that outer layer is flesh. Flesh and veins and muscles.
Fidelir is always growing. Its citizens build new homes and taverns, shops and inns, out of materials harvested from nearby, and the parasitic tendrils of Fidelir take over the homes and spread, growing larger and larger. The city moves, slowly, drifting across the land a few thousand feet a day. Eventually, it comes across another city. Fidelir eats cities.
The citizens of Fidelir are mostly former residents of cities Fidelir has merged with, or travelers seeking refuge. As Fidelir’s size grew, so did its power. Fidelir has an influence on the minds of those within it. When Fidelir was but a fraction of a fraction of its current size, this simply allowed it to sway people into staying. But with its current strength, more than a month inside Fidelir could possibly put you under its sway completely, as you forget your previous life and refuse to leave the marching city.
Fidelir can rearrange itself completely in the span of hours, seamlessly shifting streets and houses to whatever arrangement most suits it. The city can repair itself and cannot be destroyed permanently unless you pierce its heart. If the city is razed but the heart is not destroyed, then Fidelir’s heart may slink away to safety- until it finds another structure, even just a house or barn, to infect, and starting the process all over again.
Oooooooo that’s really cool
‘llo Sel
How are you
Good! You?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
nestling itself into the foundations of a village. Or, a many-legged thing from the far realm slipped through the folds of reality into ours, hiding beneath a city’s sewers and pupating into something more. Or perhaps, it gained life and breath by drinking the blood of those who were felled within its cobbled streets. Nobody knows quite where Fidelir came from, and it’s probably better that way.
A parasite disguised as a Utopia, Fidelir, Gailen’s gate, the Marching City, is a marble metropolis of stone and wood. But it lives. The chimneys of it’s houses are Fidelir’s lungs, it’s streets are it’s arteries and it’s alleyways are its capillaries. It’s skin are the titanic walls that guard its inner depths, the keep at the center of the city is Fidelir’s head, the throne room is their mind, the bell tower above the keep is the creature’s voice, and deep, deep, deep below the city is the creature’s pulsing, beating heart. The city, on the surface, is made of pristine materials, chiseled marble and the strongest of woods, but just a few inches beneath that outer layer is flesh. Flesh and veins and muscles.
Fidelir is always growing. Its citizens build new homes and taverns, shops and inns, out of materials harvested from nearby, and the parasitic tendrils of Fidelir take over the homes and spread, growing larger and larger. The city moves, slowly, drifting across the land a few thousand feet a day. Eventually, it comes across another city. Fidelir eats cities.
The citizens of Fidelir are mostly former residents of cities Fidelir has merged with, or travelers seeking refuge. As Fidelir’s size grew, so did its power. Fidelir has an influence on the minds of those within it. When Fidelir was but a fraction of a fraction of its current size, this simply allowed it to sway people into staying. But with its current strength, more than a month inside Fidelir could possibly put you under its sway completely, as you forget your previous life and refuse to leave the marching city.
Fidelir can rearrange itself completely in the span of hours, seamlessly shifting streets and houses to whatever arrangement most suits it. The city can repair itself and cannot be destroyed permanently unless you pierce its heart. If the city is razed but the heart is not destroyed, then Fidelir’s heart may slink away to safety- until it finds another structure, even just a house or barn, to infect, and starting the process all over again.
Oooooooo that’s really cool
‘llo Sel
How are you
Good! You?
Confused but happy i think im not really sure
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
nestling itself into the foundations of a village. Or, a many-legged thing from the far realm slipped through the folds of reality into ours, hiding beneath a city’s sewers and pupating into something more. Or perhaps, it gained life and breath by drinking the blood of those who were felled within its cobbled streets. Nobody knows quite where Fidelir came from, and it’s probably better that way.
A parasite disguised as a Utopia, Fidelir, Gailen’s gate, the Marching City, is a marble metropolis of stone and wood. But it lives. The chimneys of it’s houses are Fidelir’s lungs, it’s streets are it’s arteries and it’s alleyways are its capillaries. It’s skin are the titanic walls that guard its inner depths, the keep at the center of the city is Fidelir’s head, the throne room is their mind, the bell tower above the keep is the creature’s voice, and deep, deep, deep below the city is the creature’s pulsing, beating heart. The city, on the surface, is made of pristine materials, chiseled marble and the strongest of woods, but just a few inches beneath that outer layer is flesh. Flesh and veins and muscles.
Fidelir is always growing. Its citizens build new homes and taverns, shops and inns, out of materials harvested from nearby, and the parasitic tendrils of Fidelir take over the homes and spread, growing larger and larger. The city moves, slowly, drifting across the land a few thousand feet a day. Eventually, it comes across another city. Fidelir eats cities.
The citizens of Fidelir are mostly former residents of cities Fidelir has merged with, or travelers seeking refuge. As Fidelir’s size grew, so did its power. Fidelir has an influence on the minds of those within it. When Fidelir was but a fraction of a fraction of its current size, this simply allowed it to sway people into staying. But with its current strength, more than a month inside Fidelir could possibly put you under its sway completely, as you forget your previous life and refuse to leave the marching city.
Fidelir can rearrange itself completely in the span of hours, seamlessly shifting streets and houses to whatever arrangement most suits it. The city can repair itself and cannot be destroyed permanently unless you pierce its heart. If the city is razed but the heart is not destroyed, then Fidelir’s heart may slink away to safety- until it finds another structure, even just a house or barn, to infect, and starting the process all over again.
Oooooooo that’s really cool
‘llo Sel
How are you
Good! You?
Confused but happy i think im not really sure
Confused?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
nestling itself into the foundations of a village. Or, a many-legged thing from the far realm slipped through the folds of reality into ours, hiding beneath a city’s sewers and pupating into something more. Or perhaps, it gained life and breath by drinking the blood of those who were felled within its cobbled streets. Nobody knows quite where Fidelir came from, and it’s probably better that way.
A parasite disguised as a Utopia, Fidelir, Gailen’s gate, the Marching City, is a marble metropolis of stone and wood. But it lives. The chimneys of it’s houses are Fidelir’s lungs, it’s streets are it’s arteries and it’s alleyways are its capillaries. It’s skin are the titanic walls that guard its inner depths, the keep at the center of the city is Fidelir’s head, the throne room is their mind, the bell tower above the keep is the creature’s voice, and deep, deep, deep below the city is the creature’s pulsing, beating heart. The city, on the surface, is made of pristine materials, chiseled marble and the strongest of woods, but just a few inches beneath that outer layer is flesh. Flesh and veins and muscles.
Fidelir is always growing. Its citizens build new homes and taverns, shops and inns, out of materials harvested from nearby, and the parasitic tendrils of Fidelir take over the homes and spread, growing larger and larger. The city moves, slowly, drifting across the land a few thousand feet a day. Eventually, it comes across another city. Fidelir eats cities.
The citizens of Fidelir are mostly former residents of cities Fidelir has merged with, or travelers seeking refuge. As Fidelir’s size grew, so did its power. Fidelir has an influence on the minds of those within it. When Fidelir was but a fraction of a fraction of its current size, this simply allowed it to sway people into staying. But with its current strength, more than a month inside Fidelir could possibly put you under its sway completely, as you forget your previous life and refuse to leave the marching city.
Fidelir can rearrange itself completely in the span of hours, seamlessly shifting streets and houses to whatever arrangement most suits it. The city can repair itself and cannot be destroyed permanently unless you pierce its heart. If the city is razed but the heart is not destroyed, then Fidelir’s heart may slink away to safety- until it finds another structure, even just a house or barn, to infect, and starting the process all over again.
Oooooooo that’s really cool
‘llo Sel
How are you
Good! You?
Confused but happy i think im not really sure
Confused?
Yeaaaaaaah
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
nestling itself into the foundations of a village. Or, a many-legged thing from the far realm slipped through the folds of reality into ours, hiding beneath a city’s sewers and pupating into something more. Or perhaps, it gained life and breath by drinking the blood of those who were felled within its cobbled streets. Nobody knows quite where Fidelir came from, and it’s probably better that way.
A parasite disguised as a Utopia, Fidelir, Gailen’s gate, the Marching City, is a marble metropolis of stone and wood. But it lives. The chimneys of it’s houses are Fidelir’s lungs, it’s streets are it’s arteries and it’s alleyways are its capillaries. It’s skin are the titanic walls that guard its inner depths, the keep at the center of the city is Fidelir’s head, the throne room is their mind, the bell tower above the keep is the creature’s voice, and deep, deep, deep below the city is the creature’s pulsing, beating heart. The city, on the surface, is made of pristine materials, chiseled marble and the strongest of woods, but just a few inches beneath that outer layer is flesh. Flesh and veins and muscles.
Fidelir is always growing. Its citizens build new homes and taverns, shops and inns, out of materials harvested from nearby, and the parasitic tendrils of Fidelir take over the homes and spread, growing larger and larger. The city moves, slowly, drifting across the land a few thousand feet a day. Eventually, it comes across another city. Fidelir eats cities.
The citizens of Fidelir are mostly former residents of cities Fidelir has merged with, or travelers seeking refuge. As Fidelir’s size grew, so did its power. Fidelir has an influence on the minds of those within it. When Fidelir was but a fraction of a fraction of its current size, this simply allowed it to sway people into staying. But with its current strength, more than a month inside Fidelir could possibly put you under its sway completely, as you forget your previous life and refuse to leave the marching city.
Fidelir can rearrange itself completely in the span of hours, seamlessly shifting streets and houses to whatever arrangement most suits it. The city can repair itself and cannot be destroyed permanently unless you pierce its heart. If the city is razed but the heart is not destroyed, then Fidelir’s heart may slink away to safety- until it finds another structure, even just a house or barn, to infect, and starting the process all over again.
Oooooooo that’s really cool
‘llo Sel
How are you
Good! You?
Confused but happy i think im not really sure
Confused?
Yeaaaaaaah
How?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you will never leave me.
Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the sad fireside corner of my poor black heart.
O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved: because I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
nestling itself into the foundations of a village. Or, a many-legged thing from the far realm slipped through the folds of reality into ours, hiding beneath a city’s sewers and pupating into something more. Or perhaps, it gained life and breath by drinking the blood of those who were felled within its cobbled streets. Nobody knows quite where Fidelir came from, and it’s probably better that way.
A parasite disguised as a Utopia, Fidelir, Gailen’s gate, the Marching City, is a marble metropolis of stone and wood. But it lives. The chimneys of it’s houses are Fidelir’s lungs, it’s streets are it’s arteries and it’s alleyways are its capillaries. It’s skin are the titanic walls that guard its inner depths, the keep at the center of the city is Fidelir’s head, the throne room is their mind, the bell tower above the keep is the creature’s voice, and deep, deep, deep below the city is the creature’s pulsing, beating heart. The city, on the surface, is made of pristine materials, chiseled marble and the strongest of woods, but just a few inches beneath that outer layer is flesh. Flesh and veins and muscles.
Fidelir is always growing. Its citizens build new homes and taverns, shops and inns, out of materials harvested from nearby, and the parasitic tendrils of Fidelir take over the homes and spread, growing larger and larger. The city moves, slowly, drifting across the land a few thousand feet a day. Eventually, it comes across another city. Fidelir eats cities.
The citizens of Fidelir are mostly former residents of cities Fidelir has merged with, or travelers seeking refuge. As Fidelir’s size grew, so did its power. Fidelir has an influence on the minds of those within it. When Fidelir was but a fraction of a fraction of its current size, this simply allowed it to sway people into staying. But with its current strength, more than a month inside Fidelir could possibly put you under its sway completely, as you forget your previous life and refuse to leave the marching city.
Fidelir can rearrange itself completely in the span of hours, seamlessly shifting streets and houses to whatever arrangement most suits it. The city can repair itself and cannot be destroyed permanently unless you pierce its heart. If the city is razed but the heart is not destroyed, then Fidelir’s heart may slink away to safety- until it finds another structure, even just a house or barn, to infect, and starting the process all over again.
Oooooooo that’s really cool
‘llo Sel
How are you
Good! You?
Confused but happy i think im not really sure
Confused?
Yeaaaaaaah
How?
People
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
nestling itself into the foundations of a village. Or, a many-legged thing from the far realm slipped through the folds of reality into ours, hiding beneath a city’s sewers and pupating into something more. Or perhaps, it gained life and breath by drinking the blood of those who were felled within its cobbled streets. Nobody knows quite where Fidelir came from, and it’s probably better that way.
A parasite disguised as a Utopia, Fidelir, Gailen’s gate, the Marching City, is a marble metropolis of stone and wood. But it lives. The chimneys of it’s houses are Fidelir’s lungs, it’s streets are it’s arteries and it’s alleyways are its capillaries. It’s skin are the titanic walls that guard its inner depths, the keep at the center of the city is Fidelir’s head, the throne room is their mind, the bell tower above the keep is the creature’s voice, and deep, deep, deep below the city is the creature’s pulsing, beating heart. The city, on the surface, is made of pristine materials, chiseled marble and the strongest of woods, but just a few inches beneath that outer layer is flesh. Flesh and veins and muscles.
Fidelir is always growing. Its citizens build new homes and taverns, shops and inns, out of materials harvested from nearby, and the parasitic tendrils of Fidelir take over the homes and spread, growing larger and larger. The city moves, slowly, drifting across the land a few thousand feet a day. Eventually, it comes across another city. Fidelir eats cities.
The citizens of Fidelir are mostly former residents of cities Fidelir has merged with, or travelers seeking refuge. As Fidelir’s size grew, so did its power. Fidelir has an influence on the minds of those within it. When Fidelir was but a fraction of a fraction of its current size, this simply allowed it to sway people into staying. But with its current strength, more than a month inside Fidelir could possibly put you under its sway completely, as you forget your previous life and refuse to leave the marching city.
Fidelir can rearrange itself completely in the span of hours, seamlessly shifting streets and houses to whatever arrangement most suits it. The city can repair itself and cannot be destroyed permanently unless you pierce its heart. If the city is razed but the heart is not destroyed, then Fidelir’s heart may slink away to safety- until it finds another structure, even just a house or barn, to infect, and starting the process all over again.
Oooooooo that’s really cool
‘llo Sel
How are you
Good! You?
Confused but happy i think im not really sure
Confused?
Yeaaaaaaah
How?
People
Ah. Understandable.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
Less than ideal. My general dislike of most living things has gotten slightly worse
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you will never leave me.
Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the sad fireside corner of my poor black heart.
O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved: because I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.
My name’s Gradius, this is my second account :P I love Hollow Knight and I have been on ddb for a while. Come rp with me anytime! It is my purpose. My title that was given to me by Drummer is…SPIRIT OF THE WEST, GUARDIAN OF THE HOLLOWS.
No cost too great. No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering. Born of God and Void.
O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you will never leave me.
Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the sad fireside corner of my poor black heart.
O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved: because I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.
Y’know if I could muster the inspiration I might make a thread inspired by Melty Blood or UNIB
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you will never leave me.
Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the sad fireside corner of my poor black heart.
O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved: because I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.
I mentioned it in the maverick battalion yesterday I think
thank you!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
My name’s Gradius, this is my second account :P I love Hollow Knight and I have been on ddb for a while. Come rp with me anytime! It is my purpose. My title that was given to me by Drummer is…SPIRIT OF THE WEST, GUARDIAN OF THE HOLLOWS.
No cost too great. No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering. Born of God and Void.
TRON LIVES
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Oooooooo that’s really cool
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
Is art
@Irunwithskissors
(Both are links, please click them…)
‘llo Sel
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
Extended Signature!
How are you
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
Is art
@Irunwithskissors
(Both are links, please click them…)
Good! You?
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
Extended Signature!
Confused but happy i think im not really sure
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
Is art
@Irunwithskissors
(Both are links, please click them…)
Confused?
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
Extended Signature!
Yeaaaaaaah
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
Is art
@Irunwithskissors
(Both are links, please click them…)
How?
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
Extended Signature!
Hola folks
O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you will never leave me.
Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the sad fireside corner of my poor black heart.
O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved: because I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.
-Excerpt, Prayer for loving sorrow
HIMY
HOW YOU BEEN
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
Is art
@Irunwithskissors
(Both are links, please click them…)
People
Hey y’all, you can call me Sel, pronouns they/he. Some things about me, I like reading, writing, dnd, theater, art. I have an art doc and my yt channel linked below. Pms are always open if you need to talk. Love y’all <3
Is art
@Irunwithskissors
(Both are links, please click them…)
Shark dude!
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
Extended Signature!
Ah. Understandable.
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
Extended Signature!
Less than ideal. My general dislike of most living things has gotten slightly worse
O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you will never leave me.
Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the sad fireside corner of my poor black heart.
O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved: because I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.
-Excerpt, Prayer for loving sorrow
Ugh me too
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
Extended Signature!
it's me birfday : D
My name’s Gradius, this is my second account :P I love Hollow Knight and I have been on ddb for a while. Come rp with me anytime! It is my purpose. My title that was given to me by Drummer is…SPIRIT OF THE WEST, GUARDIAN OF THE HOLLOWS.
No cost too great. No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering. Born of God and Void.
TRON LIVES
You didn’t tell us earlier? Happy birthday grad!
O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you will never leave me.
Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the sad fireside corner of my poor black heart.
O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved: because I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.
-Excerpt, Prayer for loving sorrow
Happy birfday!
Your local friendly stupid doop!
Professional idiot! Trans! Pansexual pancake! I am a minor so you will do none of that (GP) with me! I use He/They pronouns :3
Extended Signature!
Y’know if I could muster the inspiration I might make a thread inspired by Melty Blood or UNIB
O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you will never leave me.
Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the sad fireside corner of my poor black heart.
O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved: because I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.
-Excerpt, Prayer for loving sorrow
I mentioned it in the maverick battalion yesterday I think
thank you!
My name’s Gradius, this is my second account :P I love Hollow Knight and I have been on ddb for a while. Come rp with me anytime! It is my purpose. My title that was given to me by Drummer is…SPIRIT OF THE WEST, GUARDIAN OF THE HOLLOWS.
No cost too great. No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering. Born of God and Void.
TRON LIVES