It digs into the busiest wallet on Solana and takes 1% of every buy. The longer it stays in, the deeper it goes and the harder it is to pull out.
You have the tweezers. Hold to pull and let go to ease off, and keep the force inside the green band that drifts as it fights you. Stay in the band and the tick comes out a little more; pull too hard and it tears, and if it tears all the way the head stays in and grows back. Get all eight out clean.
Eight wallets on Solana went a whole night without checking, and now there is a tick on each one. Pull them out one at a time. Slow wins. Fast leaves the head behind.
Nobody puts it there and nobody signs anything. It finds the wallet, it digs in, and it starts drawing.
It reads Solana slot by slot, looking for the wallet that buys the most, and drops onto it head-first. A quiet wallet is not worth digging into, so it waits for a loud one.
From then on every meme that wallet buys pays the tick 1%, in the same transaction, before the coins land. A $100 buy is a small draw. A $10,000 buy is a full meal.
The more that wallet buys, the fatter the tick gets, from a flat seed to a grape ready to burst. You can read a wallet's whole month off the size of the thing hanging on it.
Every hour it digs a little deeper, and the deeper it sits the more it costs to pull. The only way off is the tweezers, priced at twice everything it has drawn. Yank it and the head stays in and grows back.
Nothing waits in a treasury. Every draw is divided the instant it is taken.
Paid out draw by draw, all day, to every holder. There is nothing to stake and nothing to claim. You just have to be on the tick's side of the bite.
Bought back and sent to the incinerator in the same slot as the buy that fed it. Every busy day leaves a little less $TICK in the world than the day before.
Kept for the house: the site, the art, the tweezers. Whatever the jar does not spend, the jar burns, because a tick keeps nothing it cannot carry.
A tick's 1% never changes, but its grip does. This is the part that makes it a tick and not a leech.
Every hour the tick spends on a wallet, it digs a step deeper: from the surface, to under the skin, to locked in the muscle. Depth does not change what it draws, it changes what it costs to remove.
The tweezers are the only way off, and they cost twice everything the tick has drawn so far. A tick pulled in the first hour costs almost nothing. A tick left for a week has drawn a fortune and dug in behind it, so the bill is a fortune too. Wait long enough and pulling it costs more than just letting it feed — which is exactly why most wallets never pull.
And it all burns. Every stake paid for the tweezers goes to the incinerator, tick and all.
stake: cheap
Every tick starts as a flat seed. What it turns into is a receipt for how much its wallet keeps buying.
Every wallet with a tick on it, newest bite first, sorted by how fat the tick has gotten. Nobody on this list agreed to it, and every one of them is still buying.
The only thing that gets a tick off. The contract is engraved on the handle.
Eight ticks, eight wallets, every head out clean.
