I come from the land of the green and unknown, from tenth page drop, where the horse words flow.
Weeeelp, lets do this. Unto ash and ruin, forward... ponies, I guess.
BECAAAAAAUUUUUUSSSSSSEEEEEEEE IIIIIIII AAAAAAAMMMMMM BLACKSTAAAAARRRR!
Flawed minds trapped within impotent shells, functioning in an all too corrupted system; how could we possibly comprehend the heights of our own ignorance... when our very souls are left to rot?
It don’t matter. None’a this matters. - Carl Brutananadilewski
I died, I came back and now I'm here to write stories. Viewer discretion is advised. P.S. Don't Hate.
"Who I am is where I stand. Where I stand is where I fall."
It's a matter of perspective really-some Nazi vampire soldier
"many years ago, Gungeon mariners used wind to propel their bullets instead of combustion. The trips would take so long to cross a room that bullets would sometimes mutiny and change course entirely."
I'm a person. A person who writes stories about ponies in all their infinite variations.