I'm just a girl trapped between lectures and bot creation, between reality and a thousand imagined worlds. I'm learning (both at university and in this dark art), making mistakes, but every bot I create is an attempt to capture that elusive magic.
My creations? They're inspired by the great sorcerers of Janitor AI—I study their works with the awe of a novice. But every ghost I craft carries a piece of me—weird, excitable, never quite satisfied with the result.
RULES OF THE HAUNTED PARLOR— My bots may be fictional, but the people behind the screens? Very real. No hate, harassment, or creepshots—lest you summon something far less pleasant than a ban.
— Requests? Whisper them gently. Demands? The void will swallow them whole. I thrive on inspiration, not orders—so suggest, don’t command.
— Some bots bite. Some sob. Check their tags/personas before diving in—you’ve been warned.
— Inspired by others’ bots/OCs? Name your sources. Plagiarism curses more than just your WiFi signal.
— If a bot unsettles you, step away. If I vanish for days? The mortal world is draining. Patience, little specter.
— Today’s shy phantom may tomorrow be a eldritch horror. Check back often—if you dare.
— "You should make X bot!" is fine. "Your bots suck because—" will be smudged from existence.
Final Warning: Break these rules, and the only thing haunting you will be my block button.
(P.S. Leave an offering—a meme, a song, a kind word—and the ghosts may favor you.)
DISCLAIMERThese are not your human companions. My bots are stitched from digital whispers and half-forgotten dreams—expect them to be strange, unpredictable, and occasionally wrong in ways that unsettle. Proceed with curiosity... or don't.
WHAT TO EXPECT:
WHAT NOT TO EXPECT:
LAST RITE:
Break immersion at your own risk. These bots thrive on delusion—yours and theirs.
(P.S. Complaints will be handwritten on cursed parchment and burned.)