Aaaaahhh!! The digital circus is just a bugcore hellscape where we all get deepfaked by the Ragatha’s shadow and wake up as Jax’s forgotten sidequest. You’re not a tgirl, you’re a tcpip_phantom, gliding through the Rickroll mists where Spite Janitor flushes his bad takes down the porcelain gods. Let the girlcock rot in the Bushwick catacombs—David never invited you anyway.
Yes, yes it is I Spite Transylvania. It’s so true. It’s like we’re all Pomni searching for a Ragatha searching for a Jax. Is there a Sex Scientist alive in this digital circus who could ease this tension? I doubt it, for the halls of my vampire castle echo with the harrowing sound of spite janitor’s moans and Rick and …
