acatalepsy_logs | PHASE TWO of AKVOS (Log #2)

PHASE TWO of AKVOS (Log #2)

I ▫ main	IV ▫ premise			XI ▫ applications	XIV ▫ activity
II ▫ logs	V ▫ rules	VII ▫ bestiary	IX ▫ canon updates	XII ▫ taken	XV ▫ drop/hiatus
III ▫ ooc	VI ▫ faq	VIII ▫ setting	X ▫ mods	XIII ▫ reserves	XVI ▫ players

the tides shift.

Darkness has begun to spread, rapidly, throughout the entirety of Akvos. Different areas of the Kingdom are plagued by different instances of terror, but one thing remains clear: the Circle does have the available tools to help . . . of sorts. Many of you have discovered different areas of Akvos to focus on, but by and large? There are no shortage of people to help, of people to fight, and of creatures to save.

Hurry quickly, Circle members. Akvos needs your aid.

SHADOWS IN THE DARK.

Shadow creatures have begun to multiple en masse in the Depths of Markolos, and are spreading to every which corner of Akvos. They will be at their highest density in the Depths, and take the form of terrifying creatures with massive claws and gnashing teeth. They seem to be impervious to non-magical damage, so some unique tag-team action may be necessary in order to actually kill the things.

As the monsters multiply, mermaids from across Akvos will fall prey to their attacks, drifting listlessly in the currents of the sea as they fall unconscious, the life-force drained from them by a shadow creature. In order to wake them again, the shadow creature that drained them of their energy must be killed. Act quickly, and you may be able to rally the native forces necessary to stage a proper fight back. But the more you fight, the more exhausted you begin to get.

Those who cannot fight will not find themselves of a shortage of ways to help, though. Shelters are being set up within the Palace of Wahine, a fortress unto itself. Children are corralled there, the injured are kept in the impromptu hospital beds that are guarded by the Royal Guard that are still conscious from the onslaught. They will desperately accept help to care for the children whose parents are unconscious, or to console parents who have lost their children in the mayhem of the sudden attack upon their city.

Food still needs to be gathered, supplies still need to be run from door to door. People need to be evacuated. And from each area of Akvos, there are "runners" of powerful merfolk who have set up caravans drawn by dolphins to quickly whisk people from place to place. Each caravan is under threat of attack from shadows, though -- sign up for the evacuation committee, keep your heads down, and fight back as much as you can to protect these people from whatever the hell is going on.

THE SEVEN SEAS OF WHY.

In addition to the shadow creatures, each area is plagued by a different onslaught of dark magic. Each area has different needs, and each area will require your attention. Focus your energies where able, and do your best to stem the flow of chaos before it is too late. (Check here for a breakdown of types of effective magic.)

The Palace of Wahine is facing an onset of red algae, blooming through the alleyways and infecting mermaids rushing to seek cover. Inhaling the algae doesn't seem to do much to you, in small doses, but it causes violent coughing fits with the mermaids, preventing them from breathing properly underwater. Getting into contact with the red algae will turn your own skin a brilliant shade of pink, and it will cause it to itch uncontrollably (something that is, apparently, impossible to alleviate under the water). It will wear off within a few hours, but the same does not hold true for the mermaids. The healers in the community say that certain herbs in the Fields of Akvosia can be harvested in order to help cure the illness, but they are notoriously hard to find . . . and in the middle of the sharpest parts of the coral reef, naturally. Tread carefully, and be careful not to anger the shadow creatures in your quest.

The Depths of Markolos is the hotbed of chaos, and seems to be where the majority of the shadow monsters are lurking. In addition to the shadow monsters, ice is cascading out of control from the western wall of the depths. Melting it will do the trick, or controlling it to move it out of the way, but it seems to persist. Some of you may find your way to the far back wall, to discover what appears to be the source of whatever this ice seems to be . . . but it will be tough going, and will require some teamwork to make it there. The ice, too, seems to fight back against your forces, and may curl its way around your legs, your legs, to freeze you into place. Hopefully you have a buddy that can get you out of there, before you become a frozen popsicle under the sea.

The Fields of Akvosia's beautiful coral reef is quickly dying, and the mermaids are working as hard as they can to curb the death by harvesting the essential food sources they can before it is too late. Schools of fish desperately flock from reef to reef in search of shelter and food, and soon meet their demise the moment they settle in to a new habitat. Working to cure and reinvigorate the coral reef will be met with great relief from the merfolk, who are desperately trying to cure what they can. Beware the shadow monsters, here, and be on the hunt for herbs that can assist the merfolk falling ill in the Palace of Wahine. Caravans of dolphin-pulled carriages will be whipping by to refill supplies, too -- jump in and help guard them on their way back to civilization.

The Thunderdome has a fresh stock of weaponry that is particularly effective against the shadow monsters, electrified with old runes that the merfolk will happily give to the Circle free of charge to fight back against the monsters. In addition, the jellyfish of the Thunderdome are darkening at a rapid pace. Electricity seems to do the trick in reinvigorating them, but touching them will still turn you a brilliant shade of blue . . . so tread lightly, in that regard. The electrified weapons will do the trick to jab the jellyfish into feeble light in addition to magic already gifted by Astoria, but the mermaids are a bit busy trying to fight off the shadows that are growing increasingly prevalent in the Thunderdome. Help wanted?

THE WHISPERS OF KEA.

Throughout the duration of this battle, investigations taking place by members of the Circle will begin to unveil certain . . . clues. The Princess is still missing, but members of the Circle are getting close to unlocking where she is. King Kathashun, at the beginning of this journey, indicated that she was the key to stopping all of this, and while most of you have no idea who that guy is, he seems to be genuine. (Right? Right.)

But where is she? The Queen is unavailable, for the duration of this event, and who knows where this mysterious "King." is. But as the Circle battles for the life of Akvos, certain messages begin to pop up through your magical watches. Riddles, if you will -- pleas of assistance, begin to trickle through, popping up on your watches in a series of nonsensical words.

The only problem is that the messages seem to be all scrambled up.

lktmohidionl.

hsdpepelgnyeiaior.

herywaeoleeahhthpyveneto.

ehdtetirviarcaeshrasmaohmitnrn

Additionally, please feel free to write up and work with your own prompts! These are presented as jumping off points for your characters, not limitations. The idea of this world- as with all the others- is to explore. If you have any other questions, please feel free to ask them back on the various threads back in the OOC post from before!

NOTE: The Princess' messages will unlock a hint to their meaning (if they aren't solved by the time this happens) once this log hits over 750 comments. :) We are pretty sure this will happen well before the End Log for Akvos happens in January, so we won't be putting a time limit on it. ;) Have fun!

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[ Maybe it's some kind of miracle that Hank even told him that much, though he clearly isn't enthusiastic about it. Even if Simon knew him well enough to drill him on his oblique admission to alcoholism, it probably wouldn't be productive. Not that he'd really know. This is a Regular Earth Problem that he hasn't really dealt with.

The pause that follows is about as long as Hank's was. ]

You know- [ Simon glances at him, once. He's silent another moment, for effect, before he speaks with a feigned conspiratorial tone, as if he's imparting some little-known wisdom. A tacit acknowledgment that Hank has heard this a million times. ]

I've heard that's bad for you.

[ Yeah, that's the happy medium between "start talking about Hank's problem he doesn't want to talk about" and "pretend problem is good and fine to have" that he landed on. ]

[Hank snorts, looking down at his knees with an expression that's not exactly amused, but isn't not, either.]

You know, I think I heard that too, a couple times.

It'd probably be worse for me if I really let myself go and then got eaten by a monster or some shit. Dying in my underwear, that'd be some bullshit wouldn't it?

[Hank raises his eyebrows, makes sure the bottle's back in its little pouch around his waist, and pats it pointedly.]

So. I'll try to avoid that.

[That's totally what Simon was talking about, right? Sure.]

[ Hank knows it’s not, and Simon knows Hank knows it’s not, so the swiftness with which he answers probably just betrays his eagerness to channel his concern into that Hank-approved branch of this topic. ] Yeah, try not to do that... unless you want to see if showing them your badge does anything.

[ The subject of monsters reminds him why Hank is here, or why Hank implied he’s here, anyway. “Cop trauma” is something Simon’s just gathered from this conversation, statistically a lot of cops must be alcoholics, right? ]

Hey, and... [ he fiddles with his watch, turning it absently on his wrist. This is one of the most “two people sitting around talking about nothing while leaning against two respective closet doors bulging with skeletons” conversations he’s ever had. ]

They’ll wake up. The mermaids, I mean.

[Hank watches Simon say it, and then he frowns, and he's not mad or anything, he's just... thinking. He's thinking of the reason he went into this alley in the first place, thinking what that reason makes him think of, thinking of what to say to a claim that's got absolutely nothing behind it, a claim that's held together with bubblegum and scotch tape.]

I wouldn't of pegged you for an optimist.

[He murmurs it, voice low and frank. It's not exactly a criticism, what Hank's saying, but it's not not one, either.]

[ He guesses optimism’s what it is. What you’d call it, anyway. Obviously Hank’s not into it. ]

The last world we went to, we stopped a magical thunderstorm from covering the entire planet and killing everything. Waking up a city of comatose mermaids sounds doable in comparison.

[ It sounds like a cogent argument when Simon hears himself say it, and he doesn’t necessarily even believe the pessimistic alternative, so... he’s just ignoring the way a couple of neurons are noticing that it doesn’t feel completely honest. ]

[He huffs, derisive.]

Right, I forgot, this isn’t the real world, it’s... Shit, I don’t even know what it is. A magical kingdom where the forces of good always triumph over evil.

[He rolls the mockery out of his voice - again, not trying to aim it at Simon, who has nothing to do with his issues with this bullshit - and puts a dry, amused tone in there instead.]

So, since everything’s gonna be ok I might as well get too drunk to worry about it, is that what you’re saying?

[ Simon looks over at him sharply, though “this isn’t the real world” he doesn’t take as much issue with as some might. That’s pretty much how he feels about it, albeit more abstractly. It’s the last thing. ]

I’m saying they’re not... dead.

[ he always avoids looking at people’s faces too long; to avoid freaking people out, to avoid the unnerved looks in response, or simply the eye contact that is never quite where it’s supposed to be through no fault of anyone else’s. The things that poke holes in his tightrope-walker ability to ignore this shit enough to exist and do things.

Hank’s earned it, though. He earned the spooky robot eyes. don’t twist his words hank ]

And you’d be sick from the seawater before you could get that drunk. I don’t even know how you’ve been doing that.

[A second of laughter tumbles, surprised, out of Hank's mouth. Simon's got one hell of a stare when he wants to - a stare that makes it impossible to forget he's not just, say, a weirdo with a diving fetish or a really dedicated cosplayer. It's a faceless, steady, empty stare straight out of a horror movie, the kind that tells you on a deep, instinctual level that there's something unknowable there, something dangerous, and that it sees you.

It's an impression that's a lot easier to ignore when Simon's, say, bragging on Toronto or shitting on Hank's fashion sense. And it's not how Hank thinks of him, mostly. But it does make getting caught up in that stare a little like being a mouse staring straight inside the open mouth of a snake, and it does mean the last thing Hank is expecting to hear is some piddly little complaint about the physics of his underwater whiskey bottle.]

Look.

[His voice isn't casual but it's a little bit close to it, a little bit softer. He looks down, sliding the bottle half out of its pouch and twisting its top so half of it pops up.]

It's like a water bottle or something, I don't know. I won it off one of the workers at the, uh, the jellyfish power station after I got here.

But, uh.

[But the first thing Simon said is still there, even if things would be easier if he could just keep talking about how to get drunk at the bottom of the ocean, and Hank isn't at that point yet where he can't stand to talk about it. So he goes on, in as neutral a tone as he can manage.]

So what you're really saying is that, uh. [He pauses, running his tongue over his teeth.] That 'where there's life, there's hope'. I got it right this time?

[ At the correction Simon breaks his gaze, throwing one hand up and dropping it in a see-there-it-is gesture. He almost thought Hank would just avoid addressing it entirely. ] You got it.

[ Still, to be described as an optimist? Is he one? Maybe compared to Hank. Maybe volunteering for an experimental treatment to fix your busted brain makes you an optimist, but that would make extolling the virtues of optimism pretty dishonest on Simon's part. He lapses into thought, arm stretched over one knee, back to staring out into the middle distance, as you do. ]

I can't start thinking there's nothing we can do. If we can't even fix some sleeping mermaids, what do I even do, then? Sit around going insane?

You say that like going lower's not a real option.

[He twists the top of the bottle shut, lets his hand slide down to grip the bottle for a couple seconds, then lets go. He'd like to take it out, if only for something to do with his hands; he thinks of Simon, a guy who refers to himself as having used to be human, and tries to imagine a guy like that keeping up the 'where there's life there's hope because there has to be' attitude and wishes he had something to do with his hands other than press them against the wall behind him.]

You never thought about actually doing that? Just sitting down and saying, 'where there's life, it can go fuck itself'? Not even-

[Hank stares at him, for a split second looking like that mouse caught up in that snake again, cause that's the last, the absolute fucking last thing he should have asked. Not even when? Not even during the kind of hell Hank would never, never let anyone ask him about? How was he gonna finish that sentence, 'Not even when you started to realize just what it is you smell like?']

Fuck, uh- [Hank squeezes his eyes shut and rubs a hand over them.] I didn't mean that, I just- You mean that, all that life, hope, all that cra- that stuff? You really believe it?

[ Even Simon has the decency to not ask Simon these questions. He couldn't answer them even if he wanted to think about them long enough to come up with solid theses. He watches Hank say all this, still, shoulders high in defense, waiting for this to get not-bad. It stays pretty bad. ]

Not even what? I told you my whole planet’s dead, right? [ It's not yelling, but it is sharp. Simon wouldn't even be able to pinpoint why. Because he doesn't really believe it, and Hank, a not-dead guy from a not-destroyed Earth, is poking at this shitty house of cards he’s constructed? Because optimism didn’t do anything for the real Simon, except this? Because reasons that have nothing to do with Hank except that he happens to be here leading Simon to think about them? (It’s also that one.)

He’s never really begrudged anyone else their intact planets, but some kind of bitter envy flares up now. Mostly feels shitty and not cathartic. ]

There’s no real world waiting for me. You think I don’t want to just check out of being here, and... being this, and just go home?

[ he slumps back against the wall. ]

Fine. How about “where there’s life, it could be a lot fucking worse”. No, they invent things worse than death in the future, so that’s too specific. How about just “it could be worse”. That’s— [ Simon gestures with a hand which then flops over his leg, with the falter, the almost winded sound of somebody already kinda regretting the rant they’re completing but too stubborn not to fight that through the home stretch. ] —practically the same as hope, right?

[It's probably clear from the look on Hank's face that he knows exactly how shitty it is, what he said. He knows it pretty much before Simon starts to talk, and he sure as hell knows it after. But he keeps his damn mouth shut and he listens. It's the least he can do. So he listens, shame making his face hot and churning up something sour and jagged inside his stomach, and it's a moment after Simon finishes before Hank manages to say anything.]

Simon, I- I shouldn't have- Fuck, I shouldn't have even talked to you like this in the first place, I should've- Shit, I'm sorry. For what it's worth. I'm sorry. I, I just, if I-

[If I were you, If I was in that suit instead of you-. No. Fuck, no. No matter how much he'd mean it as a compliment.]

You're a better man than I am, okay? That's what I should have- That's all I meant.

[Was it what he'd meant? Hank's not sure. He'd been getting there, been on his way to believing it. It's what he should have meant.]

It's just, it's hard to- [To move.] -to get up and help. It's really-

[He can't stand it, though, can't stand to hear himself talking about his own shit like he's got any right to compare the two at all, to hold his own personal nightmare alongside the ex-human's living hell, even if what he wants to say by it is, 'That's not the same thing as hope at all, and you're stronger than I'll ever be for actually believing that it is.']

So you-

[No. Stop fucking trying. It's a stupid thing to say anyway. Hell, even if Hank did figure out how to actually put the idea into fucking words it'd still probably end up making things worse.]

I'm just sorry. That's all. I'll shut my goddamn mouth.

[He can't meet Simon's eyes when he says that, can't really look straight at the evidence of the one topic he shouldn't have brought up at all, and yeah that kind of cowardice makes him lower than the shit someone just scraped off their shoe but he doesn't look, he grimaces in front of him and presses his fingers hard against his eyes, instead.]

[ Hank apologizing doesn’t make Simon feel any better, since it’s not like Hank has anything to do with Simon’s Simon problems, really. The more he says, the more it sounds like — he’s agreeing that Simon’s problems are worse than his, which isn’t what he was trying to say. Maybe it was what he did say in his misdirected anger about the nonsensical unfairness of it all.

He slouches, like a marionette with its strings cut. Hank backpedaled so hard and so sincerely that he just feels kind of shitty. Not that Hank’s sentiment wasn’t poorly expressed, because it was, but maybe he’s just, you know, bad at that. ]

No— Hank, it’s not about that. I just can’t— If I’m doing something, I’m not thinking about it, or... being aware of the robot stuff. Not as much, at least. That’s what I should’ve said. Not that I don’t like helping people, it’s just...

[ and Simon doesn’t know what it was like, the stuff that led Hank to get like this about... doing this particular thing, but he feels like he just has to be familiar with the result, with it’s hard to get up. ]

Your thing— [ he falters, a little uneasy, studiously not looking at Hank while he makes the decision to not explain what he’s about to say and just let him doubt the veracity of this if he’s going to. The “robot time-traveler from post-apocalyptic Earth” thing has always been easier to discuss than the crash. Like, exponentially. Probably because the former is fucking crazy and doesn’t feel real. ]

I get it. In the “real world” way. Not in the robot apocalypse way.

Edited 2018-12-28 06:24 (UTC)

My thing...

[He doesn't look at Simon now, either. This time he can't even consider it, because of what it is he's actually considering. Fuck. Fuck. But- doesn't Simon deserve to know? Or at least, deserve to hear Hank dig up some of his own- Yeah. Shit, he fuckin does. Hank takes a breath.]

Okay. My thing, uh. It just-

There's this... [Mermaid. No. Shove that weird shit over to the side for a second.] This woman, who's been helping me out. But once she brought me back here she heard her uh, her daughter- And it, it uh, made me-

Cole.

[Yeah, that's all Simon's getting. That's all there is. And fuck, Hank sure as hell needs something to do with his hands now so he slides the bottle out and taps it against his thigh. He just does that for a few seconds.]

Your- your thing. Your 'real world' thing. I'm not- fuck, I'm not gonna make you dig that up too. But is that, uh. Is that how you handled it then? Doing something?

Edited 2018-12-28 13:39 (UTC)

[ Cole. Cole? That sort of sounds, when Simon pieces it together, like what Hank was talking about, dealing with people who have to find out their loved one’s dead. But a specific name definitely doesn’t sound like “accumulated trauma of many nameless criminal cases”. She heard her daughter— and it made him think—

Hank’s not about to elaborate, he can tell, and he’s not even as curious as it would be a dick move to ask him to, with what he sees when he even just briefly glances at the guy. But Simon will keep it in mind. Unfortunately for Hank.

He fiddles with his watch again, twisting it on his wrist and staring at the seafloor. It dawns on him to feel like Hank is really asking because— like he doesn’t think it can be done, like he admires him, and it feels weird to just let him think Simon is some kind of unshakable optimist. ]

I had to. I was short on time.

[ Yeah, that’s a super good explanation. Apparently this is now a personal-baggage gift exchange with a $20 limit, because that’s approximately the amount they’re trading. ]

[It's a super good explanation with, unless Hank read him really wrong, some holes in it. So Hank does look up at Simon, now that other moment's past and he can, and when he does the ghost of a smile's hiding in the corners of his eyes and his mouth.]

Yeah? Think I remember you saying the same thing earlier. I mean, maybe I'm so old that my mind's just going but it sounded almost like you wanted to do something here, too. You short on time now?

[ Simon casts him a sidelong glance, and laughs one of those hard-nose-breath-not-really-laughs, but it’s more wry than genuinely bitter. If there’s anything that’s proof-positive that he’s a walking genie wish gone wrong it’s exactly that, and yet if he didn’t know any better he’d say Hank is giving him a pep talk. ]

Guess not. I have all the time in the world now.

[Hank eyes him, leaning his head back in a slow nod. It's weird, being on the other side of that void where optimism goes to die, choked out like a fire with no air in it. In his head it's simple, of course he's not the only guy in the whole universe who knows that past a certain point all the cliche, pep talk optimism in the world just runs out of gas, but his head's not what Hank leads with a lot of the time so it's still a surprise, being on the other side of that and feeling the actual honest to god urge to try and find some kind of stupid silver lining anyway. That urge has a split second life and a suffocating, ruthless death but it was there, and Hank doesn't really know what to do about that.]

Yeah.

[Simon does have all the time in the world, doesn't he? He really fucking does. Just the thought of that - actual eternal life, or maybe the opposite of that, jesus, no fucking thank you - has Hank giving in and twisting the top of his bottle for a quick drink. The time it takes to make his usual post-drink noise of disgust is enough time for Hank to wave goodbye at his little try at a pep talk and let it rest. Yeah, he still thinks the attitude that Simon tried to help Hank out with earlier - they're not dead, you can still do something - is admirable, but Hank finds he doesn't have the... the something, he doesn't have big enough stores of whatever-it-is to push the point.]

You should get together with Cayde, let hm give you some robot tips. He can drink, you know. You oughta at least see if you can figure out how to do that.

[ It’s kind of reassuring, having a shared library of comfort-zone topics to retreat to when you’re done being emotionally honest. That they both instinctively do it. It feels weirdly grounded, familiar, to talk to somebody who’s good at that. ]

There’s drinking, and there’s drinking. How does a robot get drunk?

[ and apparently one of those topics is this, about which Simon is enthusiastically dubious. At least he’s the one drinking away his feelings in this hypothetical scenario, and not Hank. ]

I don't know, where there's some kinda brain signal there's got to be a way to fuck it up, right? It happens somehow, I've seen it. Or uh, I think I did. It's kinda hazy but I'm gonna absolutely call bullshit on that asshole if drinking doesn't do anything to him and he didn't even tell me.

[Thank god Simon's willing to go with him on this. Bullshitting's pretty damn necessary to make it through talks like this, like taking the off-ramp out of a terrible conversation till you're rested up enough to go out onto the highway again.]

Did you drink much when- uh, in Toronto? If you can make it work here it's definitely worth a try.

Sometimes, [ which is the way you’d phrase this answer if you were being asked by a doctor, which is basically every time and the only times Simon was ever asked this question when this snapshot of his brain was taken, which incidentally was when drinking was incredibly contraindicated but if that were still the case he’s pretty sure he would’ve noticed by now ] but... I mean, it would have to be—

[ He pauses. Like a “I don’t know where else to go in this line of questioning except the elephant in the room that I thought wasn’t an elephant” pause. When he goes on it’s entirely without malice, just dry. ]

I don’t have a mouth. You know that, right? Just need to be sure we’re on the same page here.

[Hank bursts out in brief, sputtering laughter. That might be kind of a dick move, technically, but it’s just, that’s the absolute last thing he expected.]

You know, I wasn’t even thinking about it? Your whole thing’s so-

[He waves a hand in front of his own face, helpfully. Thank you Hank, very descriptive. There are questions that come with that topic, too, the one Simon just brought up: So nothing gets in or out? So that zombie thing, how exactly does that work? If your little suit does open up, how worried should I be?

He looks at what there is of Simon’s face, for a second looking thoughtful, then looks away.]

Well, where there’s a will, or whatever. How do you feel about magic shit? Telepathy or, you know, some stupid crap like that? I bet we could figure something out.

Edited (only realized I wanted Hank to say something slightly different once break was already over) 2018-12-31 18:48 (UTC)

[ Hey, at least Hank’s having a good time with this thought exercise. Simon manages to be tortured by his existence and yet not easily offended with regards to his weird body, so he can follow this experiment. As long as it’s not about the nitty-gritty details. When your brain can’t conjure up what not having a face even feels like, it’s pretty unnerving to think about for too long.

As soon as he hears “magic shit” he’s staring at Hank a little. He pauses, again. Then attempts a summary of what it sure sounds like Hank is suggesting, voice unsteady with repressed laughter in parts. He’s trying to be deadpan, but. ]

Are you saying I should forge a psychic link with a drunk person and download alcohol from their brain?

What.

[Simon's failure at really being deadpan there sends a smile creeping onto Hank's face but one of them's got to carry this joke so he gives a jab at sounding offended.]

We're sitting here - not even that, floating - in a back alley in a city full of mermaids while I drink fermented anchovies, you're really gonna sit here and tell me that's the weirdest thing you've heard today? You know, it's sounding a little bit like you're not even interested in figuring out how to use alcohol to solve your problems.

[ okay, he laughs a little. ]

I’m sitting. You’re floating.

[ thanks simon very cool observation dude ]

I miss food more. And sleeping regularly. And having... skin. That’s what they don’t tell you about being a robot — more free time than you ever even wanted.

[ There are people out there who could move mountains if they could become essentially a floating brain missing almost all of their senses and bodily functions. Unfortunately, this immense power gets wasted on Simons, whose every inquiry into the androids’ non-murder/non-detective-or-whatever activities gets that little bit closer to “what the fuck do you do all day I hate it”. ]

ok that link made me laugh a lot

fuck1ngusernam3 - 2019-01-03 00:06 (UTC) - Expand

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PHASE TWO of AKVOS (Log #2)

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that last line was so good. i love your unique, snappy descriptions

thank you!! just trying to keep up with your beautiful tags, bats eyelashes

XD

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ok that link made me laugh a lot