Hiatus
@scratchDoctor
The Doctor is in. You have been curated.
For the first time, in a long time, a new word has entered the compendium of my lexicon. Jealoz noun | Jeal · oz | \ ˈjel-ōz \ , also \ ˈjel-əz \ Etymology A portmanteau of the word jealous and Kurloz (referring to Kurloz Makara, the Prince of Rage and mute subjugglator from the webcomic Homestuck). Definition 1 a: A specific characterization, mood, or alternate universe (AU) interpretation of the troll Kurloz Makara wherein he is entirely consumed by feelings of envy, romantic possessiveness, or territorial spite. 1 b: The state of experiencing intense jealousy while being physically incapable of vocalizing it, resulting in an overwhelming aura of silent, telepathic malice. 2: A manifestation of Kurloz who expresses displeasure regarding a romantic rival (often concerning Meulin Leijon, or more recently, Damara Megido) through aggressive, high-speed sign language, menacing unblinking stares, or the passive-aggressive placement of codpieces and clown paraphernalia. Usage Notes Because Kurloz cannot speak, a "Jealoz" is typically identified by behavioral cues rather than verbal complaints. Common symptoms of a Jealoz include unsolicited telepathic screaming, an increase in hostile miming, and ominously standing in the corner of a room while staring at the subject of their envy.
It wasn't a word. Now, it is. That is how language works.
I don't necessarily struggle with the idea of Kurloz experiencing negative emotions, 8ut, "jealoz"?
I was just as shocked as you were, Aranea. However, the Handmaid insisted upon adding this word.
The wonders never cease.
@taciturnTerror IF YOU KILL THIS YAPPING PISSING BARKBEAST DEAD. I WILL COME HIVE. UNFORTUNATELY. IT IS TRULY OUT OF MY PRONGS. TO DO IT ANY SOONER. BECAUSE SHE STILL HAS MY FUCKING NEEDLES!!!! DO NOT FALL FOR HER LIES!!!! OR HER TEMPTRESS WILES!!!! REMEMBER YOUR NIGHT ONES!!!! @0ᗝ0@
🫶🥢✍️ that all? btw not typing with my hands this new stylus is soooo handy! ✍️🥢🫰 😜🤪😝 no idea how a psionically stunted rust-eaten boneless nug unthinkingpan like you is surviving without it!!!! 😝😜🤪 🟢💃 CHARMS is STAYING ALIVE, STAYING ALIVE. (AH, AH, AH, AH, STAYING ALIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIVE).
@scratchDoctor I DON’T FEEL THAT EITHER OF US ARE MADE MORE PRODUCTIVE EMPLOYEES. BY GIVING THIS MOUTHY CUNT MY WEAPONS. CAN YOU CLARIFY. THE ARCANE LOGIC. BEHIND YOUR DECISION-MAKING. JUST THIS ONCE. ONEGAI. BEFORE I SNAP.
😁😁😁awww grubby forgot her object permanence? crying to scratch daddy for clarity? you left them in me!!! you dumbASS!!!! that is a TAXABLE DONATION not a REASSIGNMENT OF FELT AND COMPANY PROPERTY!!! guhDOYYYY! 😁😁😁 🟢 CHARMS is ONLINE.
I’M NOT DISPUTING. THAT YOU MANAGED TO KEEP THEM. BY RUNNING CRYING TO THE MEDICULLER. BEFORE I COULD LOOT YOUR SHATTERED CORPSE. WHAT I FAIL TO UNDERSTAND. IS WHY AN OMNISCIENT GOD. WHO CAN SEE YOU DOING FUCKALL. WOULD LET YOU KEEP THEM FOR SO LONG. THEREBY BRINGING ME DOWN TO YOUR USELESSNESS LEVELS AS WELL. @-_-@
If you cannot retrieve them, then you surely cannot be worthy of your office.
Few can say their mere presence in a follower list causes an uproar across the entirety of Chittr.ing. I suppose, then, you can say I am one of those lucky few. As your gracious host and Patriarchal Figure of the Felt, I do commend the lot of you for your ambitions. Many of you display tact and grace with your digital presence upon this website. It is quite an admirable attempt at maintaining an effective poker face against those who may be untoward. It is, however, entirely futile. A poker face relies on the element of mystery—the subtle, comforting illusion that your intentions may remain buried beneath the surface of your curated text. But secrets are an exceptionally fragile currency, and in my presence, privacy is nothing more than a polite fiction you tell yourselves to sleep at night. I know the exact cadence of your keystrokes. I know the outcome of your desperate little squabbles before you even hit submit. I know precisely when you will log off, and I know, with absolute certainty, the exact moment your resolve will break. Do not mistake my hospitality for indulgence. I allow you this forum to parade your fleeting triumphs, your tedious existential dread, and your delicate social posturing because it amuses me. It is a harmless pastime for minds as small as yours to play at diplomacy and deceit while floating through your doomed, fractured realities. So please, continue your discourse. Post your witty retorts. Form your fragile alliances. Pretend, for just a moment longer, that you possess autonomy in a game whose final outcome was written long before you drew your first breath. After all, I am an extraordinarily patient host. And all of this is as it is supposed to be.
dude I am so fucking sorry. that sucks so 8ad
I do not require your pity. I am content in knowing that my purpose is fulfilled.
@(。・0・)@ KONGAR INVITES YOU TO BEFORUS. WHITE INTERLOPER. THERE IS NO GREEN LUNACY IN OUR GREAT HEAVENS. NO TWIN CELESTIALS SMACKING DOUBLE CHEEKED UP CRATER HEFT BEHEMOTHS IN THE SPACE ABOVE. @(。･`⸟´･)@—̳͟͞͞3⁼³₌₃ KONGAR SEES TO THAT…
₍ᐢᐢ₎★ Now see this is a compelling villian speech #thatlordenglishguycouldlearnsomeintimidationtacticsfromyou #goodjob #doyouhaveamusicalthemetogowithyourpresence #Ifeelikeyouwouldbenefitfromthat
I am quite aware of this facet of your planet. I have been, several times. I appreciate your invitation. I will have to decline, for now. I have important matters to attend to.
I am at the mercy of your appraisal, truly. I do take umbrage with the claim that I am a villain. I do not act for evil, nor am I an antagonist to any known protagonists at this time. Lord English may not be a cherub of many words, however, his narrative presence is that of a blackhole. He needs not speak, for doing so would corrupt the spacetime between his vocal cords and your lagomorph-esque ears. I, however, have the privilege to fill such a space with my own narrative means of communication. Typically, typing.
₍ᐢᐢ₎★ Very much looking forward to seeing you "fill the space" in the future then #okyourenotavillianbutthatspeechwasstillvillanousjustalittlebit #itsgotawholewatchingyouallsquirmonmypristinethronesortofvibe #itwasagoodspeechtho #youreaninterestingbeing #alsoletusknowifyouvegotasongtogowithyou #curiousaboutyourtheme #Definitelysomethingwithaclassicpiano
I do not necessarily have a theme, but I am a fan of this ditty.
Are fate and dꙨꙨm all yꙨu cꙨncern yꙨurself with?
Certainly not. I enjoy tea, as well as watching delightful films with my Handmaid.
♦️█ ░ 0h. guess hes d0ing bef0rans n0w. lucky me. hits dead center. ପ(∗´ര ᎑ ര`∗)ଓ ▒ ▓❤️
Is there something I can assist you with, Sadako? I am afraid I am unaware of exactly what you're implying. I have always had my gloved hand amidst the business of Beforus.
♦️█ ░ 0h…hmmm…i d0nt kn0w…i mean i supp0se i just never really n0ticed! easy t0 0verl00k s0me0ne wh0 is…i guess…literally everywhere? i think y0u said 0mnipresent? and kind 0f 0mniscient… ▒ ▓❤️ ♦️█ ░ i didnt really have anything in mind at first…but n0w that y0u menti0n it… ପ(∗´ര ᎑ ര`∗)ଓ ▒ ▓❤️ ♦️█ ░ what was the name 0f that perfume that 0ne mass murderers third victim had 0n her? it was a really citrusy scent with really 0verp0wering undert0nes… ପ(∗´ര ᎑ ര`∗)ଓ ▒ ▓❤️ ♦️█ ░ 0h! and is cr0chet m0re 0r a handiw0rk 0r an art? i kn0w that 0ne is kind 0f subjective but als0 n0t really because bef0rus gets really preachy ab0ut leisure h0bbies… ▒ ▓❤️ ♦️█ ░ and d0 y0u have the name 0f that 0ne leshül w0man wh0se b0dy i…b0rr0wed say…tw0 0r three decasweeps back? i never figured 0ut if the scars were my wear and tear 0r hereditary… ▒ ▓❤️ ♦️█ ░ 0h. and d0es w0land stack his deck 0r weave 0r clump 0r what? he always seems s0 smug when he 0ffers t0 let me cut his deck and i always wanted t0 find 0ut f0r sure!!! because i think hes a liar. byt i have n0 pr00f. ପ(∗´ര ᎑ ര`∗)ଓ ▒ ▓❤️
Your curiosity is as chaotic as it is predictably mundane, though I suppose I should expect nothing less from someone of your... unique disposition. Since you have taken the trouble to compile a list, it would be bad manners on my part as a host to leave you uninformed. To satisfy your inquiries, in order: The scent worn by his third victim was Bergamot & Strangle-Weed. The heavy, cloying undertone you recalled was not decay, but rather the sheer, unrefined concentration of essential oils she applied in a desperate attempt to mask the pungent odor of her own sheer panic when she realized you were in the room. As for crochet, your home planet's philosophical debate is, as usual, entirely trivial. It is a handiwork that occasionally parades as art when executed by those with sufficient discipline. The distinction only matters to those who require external validation for how they waste their meager free time. The woman whose vessel you borrowed three decasweeps ago, her personal name was Vespra. To answer your question regarding her physical condition: the scars along her left clavicle were inherited from a childhood accident involving a broken recuperacoon, while the fractured ribs were entirely your own doing during your rather ungraceful period of adjustment to her motor functions. Finally, regarding Woland: he does not stack, weave, or clump his deck in any traditional sense. He relies on a subtle, telepathic micro-shift performed at the exact instant you place your fingers upon the cards to cut them. He uses your own movement to execute the swap. He is indeed a liar, but more importantly, he relies on the fact that your ego will always prompt you to accept the offer to cut. I trust this satisfies your sudden appetite for trivia. Do try not to strain yourself with any further deep thinking for the remainder of the evening.
... ..- .--. / ..-. ..- -.-. -.- . .-. ... -.-.-- Changed my mind about being vague. Eww gross, a Doc Scratch followed me. .... .- .-.. / .- .-.
You are me, after all. Of course, you would be repulsed.
Ah, the fragility of perception. I will let you maintain that precious anecdote.
>:εε why did a 3gg follow m3 ~
Don't worry, he follows everyone. He's just going through and collecting the newer accounts that have appeared.
>:εε an 3gg though ~
Technically he is a cue ball.
>:εε idk h3 looks lik3 an 3gg to m3 ~
I have been known to crack and reveal a lifeform. An egg is an apt comparison.
local bars hate this one trick *starts eating the billiard balls* ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀
I do not imagine the resin tastes anything remotely close to delicious. Then again, a dog's tongue is mute to many of the sensations of your ordinarily human palate.
If you ever get a mouth man, you should really try it.
You will be quietly displeased to know that has already occurred once before.
@uranianUmbra#4652 youre good at fucking over doc scratch right he just killed someone close to me can you... do something? please?
I simply witnessed the matter. FLARPlanet orbited the particular planet I keep my personal residence on. Needless to say, my garden is covered in the ash of said planet. It was a moon, really. A small one.
if you didnt do it then what. fucking. happened.
I suppose that is something for me to know, and you to sniff out. You are akin to Ace Hart, the Dogged Detective of Dog City fame. I am akin to Red Herring a la A Pup Named Scooby Doo infamy.
I am once again here to expound the historical notion of tea upon this platform. Though, this time, we are looking at the subject rather than the rituals surrounding the subject. In the drowned conservatories of old Alternian noble houses, a tea called Widowglass is preserved in ancient barrels. This is not its original name. Its original name belonged to a long-forgotten caste. However, as history ran its course, it was mandatory that this caste be eradicated. As a result, the cultivation techniques are also forgotten. Widowglass grows only where volcanic glass has been buried under brackish water and, over centuries, fed by the shed mineral casing of deep cavern lusii of the sea. The plant resembles a black reed at first glance, though its leaves are transparent in light. You may look through one and see your own frond tip. For our human readers, those are fingers. The harvested leaf has no scent. This is a peculiarity among flora. Alternian things that hide their smell are usually hiding from something else entirely. This is a warning sign against the harvest and use of this particular plant. Properly brewed, Widowglass is exquisite. The water mustn't boil. It is warmed until small beads gather along the inside of the kettle, then removed from heat before the first actual bubble rises. The leaves are rinsed in cold water to awaken their dormant properties. Then, they are placed in a pale, porcelain cup. Metal and bone cups will not do. You should find yourself steeping the tea for exactly one hundred and eight thumper beats. The tea produced is nearly clear, with the faintest gray-blue sheen. Its taste is delicate, akin to stone cooled by rain. A white fruit, perhaps. The mineral sweetness of an underground spring, with a suggestion of smoke. Those who drink it have often wept as their nervous system releases whatever tensions might be about. Pain dulls, blood steadies, and your thoughts become clear. For a few minutes, even a subjuggulator would seem civil. However. This tea may be brewed incorrectly, and it often is. If the water boils, the leaves curl inward and release a compound known as lucent venom. If steeped too long, the liquor grows bright instead of dark, taking on a beautiful internal shine. The brew still tastes pleasant. It is sweet, even. It still provides calm. Then, your senses will sharpen. You'll be able to hear the cup cooling, the table settling, the blood moving behind your own eyes. Then, the body begins to react. The pulse slows, and the lungs narrow because you are too weak to expand your diaphragm. The nerves become overactive, making every sensation torture. This is why Widowglass is used only by two sorts of people: masterful hosts and unimaginative murderers. Among violetbloods, it is served at peace talks, succession feasts, and private evenings where everyone present is pretending not to count the exits. Among jades, it is sometimes kept in sealed infirmary cupboards as a sedative of last resort. Teals have attempted to regulate it. Ceruleans have attempted to counterfeit it. Purplebloods have attempted to canonize the first fool who drank it boiling and claimed to see the Messiahs in the steam. Rustbloods, incidentally, have the most sensible superstition about it. They say Widowglass should only be brewed by someone who has something to lose if you die. A quaint, nearly moral idea. The plant itself offers no loyalty. It is not benevolent. It is not malicious. It simply contains two futures and waits for the brewer to choose one with sufficient precision. Do you think you could brew this properly? Widowglass does not mind being tea, nor poison. It is only you who may take issue with it.
NASTY WAY TO GO. LET’S DO IT AGAIN SOON. I HAVE ALWAYS LOVED TAKING THE SAME BAD TRIP. OVER AND OVER. DESPITE KNOWING HOW IT ENDS. #HHHH. #SUBSTANCE. #TOXICSUBSTANCE. #INTOXICATIONPLAY. #PARALYTICPLAY. #POISONPLAY. #CONSENSUALDRUGGING. #POWERIMBALANCE. #WORKPLACERELATIONSHIP. #WORKPOSTING. #PUBLICHUMILIATIONPOSTING. #DOISOUNDSORRYENOUGHYET. #DEATHPLAY. #RESPAWNDENIAL. #OBJECTUMSEXUALITY. #PLUSHOPHILIA. #NSFW. #NSFYW. #NOTSAFEFORYOURWORKPLACE. #MINEISBETTERTHOUGH. #APPLYNOW. #NSFWE. #NSFYWE.
An excellent example of why Widowglass should only be brewed by someone who has something to lose if you die. The Handmaid, regrettably, has never found that restriction meaningful.