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ㅤㅤ(11/2026)ㅤㅤWHAT REMAINED FROM
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤASHEN FLOORS.
It is other presences hauling out the sullen loam at where deceitful footsteps tread. Lead aside unfamiliar paths, our home might be suitable inside a respite: But none of us has ever found the hatch. Reverse the card, bet on your not-less-worthy lands, build a neighborhood at once. Now, contentment behind any deals neatly prepared upon family subscribe-for-subscribe. Why should we be intensely separated if it was not worth the price? Let us be underneath your thrilling bond. Roam through the @DiemerHallBot's hall of fame, fetch a seat and bargain. Your attendance was awaited since long decades.
To the silence shooter—earnestly,
DIEMER HALL.
ㅤ
ㅤㅤ(11/2026)ㅤㅤWHAT REMAINED FROM
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤASHEN FLOORS.
It is other presences hauling out the sullen loam at where deceitful footsteps tread. Lead aside unfamiliar paths, our home might be suitable inside a respite: But none of us has ever found the hatch. Reverse the card, bet on your not-less-worthy lands, build a neighborhood at once. Now, contentment behind any deals neatly prepared upon family subscribe-for-subscribe. Why should we be intensely separated if it was not worth the price? Let us be underneath your thrilling bond. Roam through the @DiemerHallBot's hall of fame, fetch a seat and bargain. Your attendance was awaited since long decades.
To the silence shooter—earnestly,
DIEMER HALL.
ㅤ
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░░░░░░ 🖊️📰 (1990.)
The velvet is weeping,
The floorboards are seeping,
The old gods of Somerset are no longer sleeping.
They are DEAD, DEAD, DEAD as the lead in the manor pipes, dead as the hype of a blue-blooded vein! And what of the dozen, the dreamers, the schemers, the screaming blasphemers? Are they wailing, failing, paling in the harsh light of the morning sirens? Are they grieving or are they thieving? Don’t make me laugh. They don’t want the bodies to wake, they want the vault to break!
Somewhere, some baffled detective is pressing their old tabloid clippings and alibis into a corkboard snare. He convinces himself it’s a familiar affair he used to hear and solve out of thin air. A dead-end aristocratic nightmare.
But the corpses are rotting and the children are plotting, so come, come, come. Plunge your hands into the muck and the marrow. Is the key tucked in a corset, buried in the orchid, swallowed whole by a prodigal child? Tell us! Tell us! Tell us! 🔎
ㅤ
░░░░░░ 🖊️📰 (1990.)
The velvet is weeping,
The floorboards are seeping,
The old gods of Somerset are no longer sleeping.
They are DEAD, DEAD, DEAD as the lead in the manor pipes, dead as the hype of a blue-blooded vein! And what of the dozen, the dreamers, the schemers, the screaming blasphemers? Are they wailing, failing, paling in the harsh light of the morning sirens? Are they grieving or are they thieving? Don’t make me laugh. They don’t want the bodies to wake, they want the vault to break!
Somewhere, some baffled detective is pressing their old tabloid clippings and alibis into a corkboard snare. He convinces himself it’s a familiar affair he used to hear and solve out of thin air. A dead-end aristocratic nightmare.
But the corpses are rotting and the children are plotting, so come, come, come. Plunge your hands into the muck and the marrow. Is the key tucked in a corset, buried in the orchid, swallowed whole by a prodigal child? Tell us! Tell us! Tell us! 🔎
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21🎄15🏆14🔥10❤9🆒6💊5👏4🎉4💘4❤🔥3👀2