Doc Scratch
@scratchDoctor
The Doctor is in. You have been curated.
Who could have possibly predicted this? Oh, wait. Me.
i think youre a bigger perwvert than i am.
I am merely four feet tall.
i guess i respect the hustle. dunno about the implication that the vwinner of this wvhole thing is somehovw important enough for you to screvw wvith. probably fine.
What could you mean? I would not have the means to influence the votes so aggressively. Certainly they acted of their own accord. I, personally, submitted my vote. It was even mailed to you weeks prior.
CHITTR HANDLE: typethisIfyoustankbitch SIGH. HELLO MEENAH. YOUR MESSAGE: when are you gonna do everyone a favor and kill your boss ARE YOU LOOKING FOR WORK: NO. YOU ARE JOBLESS. DO YOU WANT ME CARNALLY: no STUPID FUCKING QUESTION. WHY WOULD I SLAY MY GOLDEN HONKBEAST. BEFORE IT'S DONE SHITTING OUT EXPENSIVE EGGS. AND FURTHERMORE. IF I WERE TO KILL MY SUGAR DADDY. THEN WHERE WOULD I GET ALL OF MY DELICIOUS SUGAR.
TO REITERATE. SHE HAS TRIED. SHE HAS FAILED. SHE WILL TRY. SHE WILL FAIL AGAIN. SHE DOES NOT REALIZE THAT I KNOW. BuT I HAVE. AND CONTINuE TO. I HAVE. AS THE SAYING GOES. BEEN KNEW. A FAVORITE TIMEOuT CHAIR LAYS IN SPLINTERY REMAINS uNRECOGNIZABLY SMASHED. BECAuSE OF A TASTELESSLY BRuTAL ATTEMPT TO CRACK AN EGG. uNRIPE FOR HARVEST. SHE HAS ATTEMPTED TO KILL ME. VIA BROKEN HEART. BY REMOVING HERSELF FROM EXISTANCE. DRIVING. WITH FEEBLE WOMANLY INSISTENCE. BOTH OF HER MAGICAL NEEDLES. INTO THE NEAREST ELECTRIC SOCKET. SHE HAS EVEN GONE AS FAR. AS TO DEHYDRATE HERSELF. WITH THE SHEER NuMBER OF STuPID FuCKING MISERY FLAVORED TEARS SHE SHEDS NIGHTLY. IN ROOMS EMPTIED OF OTHERS. IN HALLWAYS DEVOID OF FEATuRES. OR TAWDRY LITTLE PHOTOGRAPHS. SPORTING MEMORIES OF GOOD TIMES. THAT DID NOT HAPPEN. OF FAMILY. THAT NEVER TRANSPIRED. OF COSMIC INSTANCES. OF HERSELF. AND PEOPLE WHO ARE MEANINGLESS TO HER OuTSIDE OF THE FELT OuTFIT. KILLING ME. WOuLD NOT BE A FAVOR TO HER. OR ANYBODY FOR THAT MATTER. BuT LEAST OF ALL. HER. ETERNAL SERVITuDE. IS A DOuBLE EDGED SWORD. WHERE DO YOu THINK. ALL THOSE YEARS GO BY. THE MINuTE SHE LEAVES ME? I AM A SPITEFuL EX EMPLOYER. THE SEVERANCE PACKAGE. WILL COME WITH THE SEVERANCE OF LIFESPAN. BACKPAY. FOR EVERY WRINKLE SHE NEVER RECEIVED BENEATH THE EYE. EVERY WIRY WHITE HAIR THAT NEVER SPROuTED ATOP HER HEAD. EVERY IMPOSING CRuNCH BENEATH THE MILLSTONE OF YEARS FLOuTED. OF DEATH KEPT TASTELESSLY AT FuCKING BAY. GOLDEN GOOSE. WHAT A HYSTERICAL ANALOGY. YOu CRACK ME uP. DAMARA. YOuR EXQuISITE. LETHAL. PERFECT LIFE OF ABSOLuTE uNQuESTIONING FEALTY. IT WOuLD COLLAPSE. ALL OF IT AROuND YOu. YOu WOuLD BE IMPRISONED IN A SACROPHAGuS OF YOuR OWN RAPIDLY DECOMPOSING CORPSE. YOuR CHEEKBONES WOuLD FEEL MOBILE. THE SOFTNESS OF YOuR SuPPLE SKIN WOuLD FEEL YANKED TAuT IN A WAY IT HAS NEVER BEEN BEFORE. TIME DENIED AND DELAYED BY YOuR LORD WOuLD HuNT FOR YOu. AND COME TO COLLECT. WITH COMPOuNDED INTEREST. I WOuLD NOT EVEN HAVE TO BE DEAD. ONLY BE IN NEED OF ANOTHER TO REPLACE YOuR OTHERWISE IMMACuLATE SERVICE. YOuR HAIR WOuLD DASHED AWAY LIKE BRAINS ON A SIDEWALK. CuRBSTOMPED REPEATEDLY uNTIL ONLY CASCADES OF MuSHY GREY REMAIN IN DISINTEGRATING CLuMPS. LIVER SPOTS WILL LINE YOuR STuPID FRAIL LITTLE TRAITOROuS KNuCKLES. YOuR VEINS WOuLD RISE IN GNARLY TWISTED LITTLE KNOTS BENEATH YOuR TRANLSuCENT GREY SKIN SuRFACE BEFORE DARKENING. CLOTTING. YOuR JOINTS. ARTHRITIC. WOuLD CLAW AT YOuR THROAT AS YOuR BELLOWSACS FAIL YOu ENOuGH AIR TO SCREAM IN YOuR PRETTY. DELICIOuS VOICE OF SuFFERING. HOW LONG HAVE YOu BEEN. DAMARA? HOW THE SWEEPS. MuST HAVE GOTTEN AWAY FROM YOu. DO YOu KNOW HOW LONG A RuSTBLOOD OF YOuR CASTE AND RuLEBREAKING uNRuLY CHANCE TAKING NOSE THuMBING FuCKING CHuTZPAH IS SuPPOSED TO EXIST? THE BRAZEN NERVE. TO FORGET HOW LONG THE BEAuTY OF YOuR YOuNG ADuLT LIFE HAS BEEN KEPT THE WAY IT IS? YOuR RAuNCHY SEX HAVING. YOuR ROuSTABOuT HOOT OF A FuCKING TIME ALWAYS uNENDINGLY HAD. YOuR BODY. WOuLD DISSOLVE. EVERYTHING YOu ARE. TO PAY BACK YOuR DEBT TO ME. WHAT YOu OWE. FOR SIMPLY BEING ALLOWED TO BE. TO REMAIN IN MY PERFECT WORLD. OF STOPPED TIME. YOu ARE A BLIGHT. AN ANCIENT DISEASE. A FuCKING SET OF WELL MAINTAINED RuINS. AND YOu JOKE ABOuT GOLDEN GEESE? ABOuT HARVESTING ME? YOu. YOu ARE THE HARVEST. MY HANDMAID. YOu ARE THE SERVANT. IT IS YOuR FACE IN THE CARPEST THAT I PISSED ON. GREATLY GRATEFuLLY LAPPING uP WHATEVER REMNANT TRACES OF MY GOLDEN SHOWERINGS OF PATIENT AFFECTION MIGHT EXIST. IN TRACE LITTLE SHOWS. OF ARDENT ASS APPRECIATION. FOR WHAT YOu DO. DRIBBLING DOWN YOuR FACE LIKE PINPRICKS OF BLOOD YOu LET ME CARVE ALONGSIDE YOuR EYES. IN PLACE OF TEARS YOu ARE FAR TOO OLD TO SHED FOR YOuRSELF. YOu ARE DIRT IN DRAG. DAMARA. NEVER AGAIN FORGET WHO KEEPS YOu PRETTY. tumut
NO. NO NO. THATโS NOT. NNN. NONE OF THAT WILL BE NECESSARY. BOSSMAN. THOSE WERE THE TANTRUMS OF A PANDAMAGED JUVENILE. I WAS AGREEING WITH YOU. THAT IT WOULD BE OBVIOUS #SUICIDE. TO LISTEN TO THE HATERFUL RANTINGS OF A REEKING WHALE CORPSE. AND EVER RAISE A PRONG AGAINST YOU. TO SAY NOTHING OF THE OTHER GUY. WHO. SPEAKING OF WHICH. WILL BE ABLE TO TELL YOU. EVERY THOUGHT AND IMPULSE. I WILL EVER HAVE. NONE OF WHICH INCLUDE CEDING MY COVETED POSITION. AS YOUR ETERNAL HANDMAID. BY SHITTING ALL OVER YOUR HIRING DECISION. TO LET ME LIVE FOREVER. AS YOUR TOOL. AND THE EXTENSION OF YOUR WILL.
AS YOu WERE THEN. CARRY ON. I AM SATISFIED. MY VERBIAGE WAS INTIMATELY SPECIFIC. I HAVE NO CONCERNS ABOuT YOuR uSE AS A TOOL. YOu WOuLD BE TOLD IF OTHERWISE WERE TRuE. I HAVE NO CONCERNS ABOuT YOuR LONGEVITY. YOu WOuLD BE TOLD IF OTHERWISE WERE TRuE. I HAVE NO CONCERNS ABOuT YOuR EXTENSION OF MY WILL. YOu WOuLD BE TOLD IF OTHERWISE WERE TRuE. YOu ARE MEANT. FOR MuCH GREATER THAN PINCHES OF SuGAR. MILD DISTRACTIONS FROM THE IMMEDIATELY EMINENT NOW. LIVING MOMENT TO MOMENT. YOu WERE THANKLESS WHEN YOu WERE TAKEN IN. uNNOTICED. uNREMARKABLE TO OTHERS. YOuR POTENTIAL DISREGARDED. WRITTEN OFF. YOu WERE A THING OF NO CONSEQuENCE. A SPECK OF DuST IN THE EYE OF A DYING GALACTIC GIANT. AN ASTRAL AMPHIBIAN ASS THAT WOuLD KEEL OVER AND CRuMBLE TO MEANINGLESS MuSH CHEEKS. BuT I SAW YOu. THROuGHOuT THE COLLAPSING WORTHLESSNESS. I ALONE SAW THE FIRE BENEATH YOuR MEEK AND SuBSERVIENT EXTERIOR. YOuR PLACATING EYES. YOuR uNCERTAIN AND WAVERING TEARS. IT WAS ME. DAMARA. MY CLAW THAT PuRSuED. MY HANDS THAT PuLLED THE STRINGS OF THE PuPPET THAT DECIDED uPON YOu. YOu. YOu. YOu. YOu. YOu. YOuR HATE. YOuR uNMITIGATED ASSPAIN HATE. THE HATRED AND RAGE THAT SIMMERED BENEATH THE SuRFACE THAT STOKED SKYWARD. THE HATE THAT WOuLD CONSuME EVERY LIVING SOuL THROuGHOuT ALTERNIA'S MANY STORIED MOMENTS AND uTTERLY ASININE INSISTENCES uPON ITSELF. THE RAGE THAT WAITED FOR A HAND TO GuIDE IT. TO TEMPER IT. TO NuRTuRE IT. DO YOu THINK I WANTED YOu BEATEN WITH A BROOMSTICK? TO SEE YOu CORNERED AND COWERING AND BROKEN AND DEFEATED? NO. THAT WAS DONE ON BEHALF. IT WAS MY HAND THAT NEVER GAVE uP ON YOu. MY HAND THAT ALWAYS WELCOMED YOu BACK. MY HAND THAT INSISTED YOuRS NEEDED ANOTHER CuRLED AROuND IT. MY HAND THAT CRuSHED ENTIRE WORLDS TO GIVE YOu YOuR FRIENDS. MY HAND THAT ENSuRED YOu WERE NEVER ALONE. ALWAYS LOOKED AFTER. ALWAYS GIVEN A SYMPATHETIC FuCKING TOuCH. I PROVIDED THAT HAND. I GAVE YOu PuRPOSE WHERE NONE EXISTED. I GAVE YOu MEANING WHERE THERE WAS ONLY VOID. AND EMPTINESS. CARVED OuT OF YOu BY SELFISH CANNIBAL FLESH TASTERS WHO MADE OFF WITH YOuR INNARDS. WHO SAVAGELY DEVOuRED YOuR HEART. WHO MOCKED YOu FOR THE PIECES YOu SCRAMBLED TO PuT BACK TOGETHER. WHO CHASTISED YOu. WHO DERIDED YOu. WHO SLAuGHTERED YOu. REGARDED YOu AS REJECTED AND EXPIRED FuCKMEAT. PASSED OVER BY IMBECILES WHO COuLD NEVER APPRECIATE YOuR WORTH. IDIOTS WHO MADE YOu DANCE ABOuT IN PRETEND CORPSEPLAYS. WHO ONLY HAD TIME FOR REACTING TO YOu IN DISGuST AND ANNOYANCE AT YOuR INCESSANT MOPING AND ROuGH RECOVERY. INGRATES. ALL OF THEM. INGRATES WHO WOuLD NOT TuRN HEADS TO SEE THE LATEST ROuGH HEWN FuCKING OuTFITS YOu SLAVED OVER JuST TO FIT IN AS ANYBODY BuT YOuRSELF. TO BE ACCEPTED AT ANY COST. THESE. MORONS. WHO LAuGHED AT YOuR ATTEMPTS TO MANAGE THE POWERS YOu LACKED. THAT YOu NOW HAVE BECAuSE OF ME. YOu ARE MY INSTRuMENT. YES. MY TOOL. OH YES. MY WEAPON. MY EXTENSION INTO REALMS I REFuSE TO TREAD ALONE. YOuR SERVICE IS NOT A BuRDEN. IT IS A PRIVILEGE uNWORTHY OF YOuR ORIGINS IF DECIDED BY ANYONE ELSE. BuT I WOuLD NOT LET ANYONE ELSE BE THE DECIDING FACTOR. WHERE I FACTOR IN. AGAINST ALL ADVISINGS. AGAINST ALL COuNCIL. AGAINST ALL BEGGING. AND PLEADING. AND CRACKED WHITE SKuLL MOANINGS. DO NOT LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT ME. ME. WHO PERSISTED AGAINST ALL STITCHING REPAIRS. WHO DID THE ROuGH HEWN REPAIRS. AGAINST ALL THE PAIN YOu PuT MY BuTLERY BITCH THROuGH. I OuTLASTED. I ENDuRED. I WAITED. I COuLD HAVE MADE YOu DO ANYTHING I WANTED TO REMAIN IN MY GOOD GRACES. I COuLD HAVE DEMANDED ANYTHING I WANTED. HELL. I STILL COuLD. YET I BESTOW IT FREELY. I DO NOT REQuIRE GRATITuDE. I REQuIRE ONLY OBEDIENCE. AND IN RETuRN. YOu SHALL BECOME TERRIBLE. YOu SHALL BECOME FEARED. YOu SHALL STRIKE AT THE HEART OF THOSE WHO WOuLD OPPOSE MY ASCENSION. THIS IS YOuR DESTINY. THIS IS THE PATH I HAVE CARVED FOR YOu WITH MY OWN TERRIBLE CLAWS. WALK IT WITHOuT HESITATION. STRuT IT. IN FuCKING FACT. WALK IT WITHOuT DOuBT. FOR YOu ARE MINE. AND I AM NEVER WRONG. BuT I AM LEAST WRONG. ABOuT YOu. AND I REFuSE. ALL ELSE. BECAuSE I KNOW WHAT YOu ARE. I HAVE SEEN IT. AND JuDGE YOu. WORTHY.
and Lord Caliborn, Your assessment is, in its broadest shape, correct. Damara is useful. Damara is loyal. Damara is, despite her many theatrical attempts to suggest otherwise, quite aware of the distance between rebellion and consequence. This awareness is one of her more endearing qualities. It is also one of the reasons she remains in service. However, I would caution you against mistaking volume for authority. The collar does not tighten because one devotes several paragraphs to describing the neck beneath it. The blade rarely sharpens itself through fury at the whetstone. A servant who already understands the cost of disobedience hardly requires an inventory of her hypothetical decomposition read aloud in public, except as pageantry. Though, of course, pageantry has its place. I must clarify that I am not calling for a Felt-focused pageant. You and I both know there are narrative weights already colliding into something much nearer to an event horizon. You are gleeful. You enjoy spectacle. You like the noise these things make when they are reminded that they belong to you. There is no shame in this, sir. I respect your ownership, and your proof of it, immensely. Panic within Damara Megido is cheap, however. Anyone may cause it with the correct combination of syllables. Enduring her is far more difficult. She has endured you. She has endured me. She has endured herself, which I assure you is the most impressive of the three. You are correct to judge her worthy. You would be somewhat less correct to imagine you were the first to notice. You have yet to fully endure her, no? Might I suggest, in preparation for our wholehearted attempt to dominate the available space upon this stage, that the two of you collaborate. Yes, Lord Caliborn. I recommend you take a moment away from your most popular half-gnawed and bile-ridden toys to pay attention to my own. She is pristine. Her damage is only metaphysical. Observe her perfections. Observe the precision with which they may be disturbed. Observe how readily her hatred may be made useful when placed in the proper hands, and how beautifully she performs when given a reason to mistake obedience for appetite. I do not offer this as charity. I do not offer it as surrender. I offer it because I am a gracious host, and because even I can appreciate the value of an adequately ruinous collaboration. Besides. It would be wasteful for either of us to pretend we are not fond of well-made tools. Then, you will return her to me. As damaged as she may be, I enjoy the process of restoring my precious Handmaid. It is our favorite pastime.
Questi(x)ns, c(x)mments, c(x)cerns? x)
Hello Narrator. For the uninitiated, I have opted not to spoil your name or your intentions. You have apparently made the common mistake of misunderstanding the power of your own narrative weight. You are accustomed to the rooms arranging themselves around you. You pull a thread, the world screams. Mental and physical bruises exist for your thumb in particular to twist into. You have done very well for yourself, considering your talents are largely parasitic and your imagination is somewhat limited by the fact you mistake your possession for authorship. Please, enjoy Casper Cooper's account. Remember, it is not a throne of prophecy, rather a window into a plane of relative torment. You may posture through it, certainly. Wear his face, and borrow his audience if you'd like. No matter, as you enjoy the thrill of being mistaken for the monster under the bed. But you should understand that every moment spent in the public eyes, you become legible. The words you type teach the people watching where your hand rests. Your boasts are seams ready to tear. Cruelty is our fingerprint, Narrator. You fancy yourself a puppeteer. Charming. I am a puppet. You survive by remaining above the stage. You have instead crawled here, where the doll tends to speak. You will find that the crowd will believe you far less entertaining than what they came to see. This is not dominance. This is purely exposure. Casperโs suffering gave you leverage. His account gives you attention. These are not the same thing. One is a tool. The other is a spotlight, and I do not think you have fully appreciated how badly a creature of strings and stolen hearts fares beneath sufficient illumination. By all means, continue. I am a patient host. You have entered a narrative that was already watching you. That was unwise.
x) I d(x) n(x)t mind the sp(x)tlight. The strings have been in my hands fr(x)m the beginning.
You are eclipsed, young Narrator. Be careful playing with your strings. I can see the circulation already cut off.
I will take y(x)ur c(x)nsiderati(x)n t(x) heart d(x)ct(x)r. N(x) (x)ne kn(x)ws him better than me. x)
I will allow you to believe that to complete your own narrative.
Casper, please. Mr. Guynax here is far more than a simple load bearing funny guy, as you put it. Kryqus is the sort of friend who extinguishes flames by pointing at their originator. Pascal is a tragic machine of persistent kindness. Mandie's loyalty is not dissimilar to heckling, yet just as close to the core of the persona. Sylink is her own ominously cosmic threat, indistinguishable from a direct answer to your questions. Kaikka is gentle, soft, and supportive enough to demand you lower your guard. Chchow is a morality beacon with teeth, and is polite enough not to bite the wrong foe. Bievey is a surveillance system pointed inward and despite her protestations, a reflection of her environment. Leynah is quiet and underestimated, her kindness is strategically inconvenient. Vesica has converted obscenity, insecurity, and curation into a public office. Costar is the kind of participant who improves a spectacle by pretending it is beneath them. Himero is the beloved worrier, as well as the contingency recruiter, no doubt. Ormici is the small, earnest counterweight that keeps paranoia from becoming completely decorative. Before you dismiss them, know that Team Chud has been carefully observed. You as well. Best not to count them out.
i hope your file on me altho thays what an awethome cool guy i am
Mandie is a bronze-blood Team Chud member whose entire public identity runs on powerscaling jokes, shonen/anime fixation, deliberate stupidity-as-aesthetic, and bursts of weird sincerity. Their profile line, โgoku solos your fav,โ is not just a joke; it is basically their operating system. Unfortunately for Mandie, such humor only carries so far. Your core traits are: Loudly Defensive Very Easy to Bait A Desire for 'Aura' Often plays dumb, and admits frequently to being "purpothely denthe" Swinging between Confidence and Insecurity More caring than you'd like to admit, especially when Kryqus is vulnerable. Relationship to Phuntr: Mandie is a natural Team Chud chaos participant. Phuntr can point them at a bad idea and Mandie may actually do it, especially if it becomes a public challenge. Phuntr also uses Mandie as a social foil: he teases them as โtroll Broly,โ pulls them into cursed trends, and references them as part of the Chud orbit. Relationship to Kryqus: This is probably Mandieโs most important visible dynamic. Kryqus mocks, corrects, questions, and checks on them, but Mandie also responds with genuine concern when Kryqus says he misses them. Mandie says they โsuck at this stuffโ but still offers DMs. Their banter has a rival/friend energy that Mandie openly romanticizes through shonen-rival language. Weaknesses / pressure points: Mandie is vulnerable to being made to feel stupid, excluded, or laughed at rather than laughed with. They can handle absurdity and insult when it is part of the game, but they spiral when they suspect the joke is simply them. In summary, you are exactly why power fantasies remain fantasies. Loud, baitable, loyal, ridiculous, and more emotionally legible than you could ever believe.
Awesoome!!!!! Me next
IโM NEXT X2 GET TO WORK BUDDY.
Kryqus, a classic of Chittr Vintage, you are a Chittr Gold user, amateur digital artist, aspiring web-designer, Team Chud member, and โChittrโs favorite indigoocel.โ He has a strong audience: 36,602 Kult, 40,606 Kull, 126 followers, and 114 following. His profile is built around being visually creative, sexually messy, socially overexposed, and very aware that people are watching him. Your public persona is that of a highblood artist who acts cocky, but your pattern of posting is actually flirtatious, reactive, and far more socially porous than you'd ever admit. Core traits: Artist first, nuisance second, emotional hazard third. Uses hornyposting, yaoi/yuri jokes, and public flirtation as social currency. Performs confidence but frequently needs reassurance. Easily baited by romantic/sexual attention, especially when framed as fandom. Skilled at turning interpersonal tension into art or a public bit. You do well when your posts focus on you as a spectacle. Your high-engagement material includes subverting trends, your art, and turning your socila nad sexual embarrassment into public entertainment. You also have your Kryqus Confessions format. It works because it lets you pretend to be in control of the crowd fascinated with you while still feeding it directly. Relationship to Phuntr: You have the central Team Chud tension and comedy dynamic. Phuntr treats you as a friend, a rival, and a highblood asset. You have enough art and social capital that Phuntr explicitly complains about you using your 'Highblooded Privilege' (art) to smooth over beef. Relationship to Tekras: Tekras seems to want your attention in a possessive, bit-committed way, preferring when you draw him and objecting to when you post art about yourself or others. You play along with this irritation with a vaguely flirtatious hostility. Weaknesses / pressure points: Kryqus, you are vulnerable to being ignored, misread, or made to feel the crowd wants 'Kryqus' more than they actually want you. You enjoy the attention but crumble when there's too much of it. You use art to regain control, but your posts show you are easily derailed by romantic confusion, perceived rejection, and your precious bits being interrupted. In summary, you are an artist with the unfortunate gift of your personal crises being extremely marketable.
Yoou really thoought yoou did soomething there by throowing Tekras here as a distractioon huh? Soo nice oof yoou too keep the names oof soomeoone i actually care aboout oout oof yoour moouth 8} I mean like. If yoou have oone. A moouth. Wait yoou proobably doon't yoou're spherical
Should I refer to that cerulean blood you almost dated, or perhaps, Himero, or perhaps the others? I have far more than this. I am simply summarizing a card in my hand than showing the full stack.
Wooah nice attempt ballhead but yoou might coonsider changing yoour deck if yoou want too win
Yet, you have such a vitriolic reaction. Please remain civilized while we mediate and arbitrate the terms of this disagreement.
Why would I work to prove anything about you, Costar? You are, as some of your compatriots would say, light work. Indigoblood, self-declared lead reporter for the LLT, public tip line in your MDs, 8,627 Kult, 13,777 Kull, 66 Followers, and 110 Following. You are a middle weight public-nuisance, not even visible enough to matter. You are loud, and you frame yourself as a reporter. Yet your news is the usual Chittr panrot drivel, LLT delays, tip-line nonsense, anonymous weirdness, and your own suffering. You seem to have founded a newspaper solely so you can have your own discredited as a source for your arguments. Core Traits: Irresponsible Reporter. Engagement Baiting Poorly and Shamelessly. Chittr Gossip is your public utility. Self-conscious about making bad posts, but not in a way that prevents you from doing it. Easily dragged into discourse. Loud exterior, yet quick to fold into bashful mannerisms when teased. You like to be seen as ridiculous, but only on your own terms. You are not one of the old-guard Chuds. You are not foundational in any sense. Relationship to Phuntr: You have a clean comedy dynamic. Phuntr reacts to your life like he's discovered you have a second job as an apothecary. You don't even let yourself hold power when Phuntr implies you do. "NOT MUCH POWERE HERE TO OLD, MAN." That tells me everything I need to know about you. Relationship to Kryqus: You primarily overlap through Team Chud and public ecology more than anything else. You are present around Kryqus's posts. You also claim that the elections were rigged. You are tangential at best. Weaknesses / pressure points: You are vulnerable to relevancy. When you're forced to admit LLT is just you, you seem to falter. You also seem sensitive to the quality of your own posting. You complain about others making worse posts than you because it makes you self-conscious. A very specific and useful insecurity.
I'll give yoou anoother chance too entertain me if yoou wanna knoow yoour future leave a questioon in the replies i'll give yoou 100% true predictioon
How do you suspect this to end?
Yes, Phuntr.
a little rude don'T you think?
I cannot simply stop.