Names

all our names

We go by a lot of names, however ALIKID, and Z0rne are our mains ones. ALAIKID (yes, the spelling is fluid), is the misspelling of the star in the Dipper constelation; Alakid.
Z0rne is a more complicated one however, as it was an attempt to finding a system name, the surname 'zorn' seems to be German, but i vaugely remember looking for it and seeing that it was Ukranian. I also do remember that it's likely a shortened version of a ukranian word, and may also be a town(?) but I am not too sure. But anyway, we dont care which one is used.

Hobbies

+ Intrests

Funnily enough, we really only have art as our one and true hobby, throughout the years, we've tried many different things, but art will always be our main and most liked hobby. Outside of that, we enjoy cosplaying, gaming, solo TTRPG's, and reading.
Our intrests are really just our major hyperfixations, that being; The walking dead, My Little pony, Dragons, The military, Guardians of Ga'hool, Cyberpunk 2077, Silent hill, resident evil, and much more!

Credit

Page credit

Shadowed Force

Found from

About

Us!

Hello! We are a transmasc endogenic system born in 2008 with a fancy for tranditional and digital art. We are aussie, but our up-bringing is rooted in english 'culture' due to our dad, who is from England. We actually have a mild accent because of it lol. We aren't the best at chatting with strangers, but if I know you- I will be chattering every day to no end about anything and everything (dont get me started on roads widening, and large cars that are basically trucks, I will go on for hours).
We enjoy ARPG's (art RPG's, draw to get items and such) and TTRPG's, though most of the time, we go solo with them as we are pretty shy with roleplaying (we havent roleplayed since we were like- 12.

We are a Heathan, Kemetic and slavic pagan, howeve we are near perma-stuck in the 'baby witch' stage due to our inability to study for jack shit. We are trying, however we do not know much, and have a lot to learn.

Moscow street-mutt, unloved stray. Eleven pounds of bone, of pelt, of tail. Who can weigh the heart of dog? What dials or instruments may measure loyalty; the desire, hard-wired, to obey? Dogs have no gods, know only to worship the hand that feeds. There is no canine word for pray. Brave little cosmonaut, faithful to a fault; caught and collared, Earth no more than a distant ball with which you cannot play. How the words that sent you on your way crackle through the ragged dishes of your ears, a comet’s tail of breaking syllables that even now leave their trail: Laika, in. Laika, lay. Good girl, Laika. Wait. Stay.