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hypnothesis-au · 5 years ago

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A Double Act [Part 1]

It had been a long day. The finitely recorded seconds down to the decimal seemed stretched to impossible lengths, from the moment the Inkcarnival had opened that morning to now, with the sun close to setting and the evening's crowd beginning to disperse. Tartar had spent most of the morning begrudgingly humoring their bandmate to his thrill seeking and ""fun"". While the afternoon was spent wandering the amusements' layout up and down the streets of Inkopolis (to avoid him, mostly). The socially exhausted machine was more than ready to draw what they considered a waste of a day to a close. They'd rather have been working in the comforting solitude of their office.

They had considered sneaking off to do just that in Octavio's absence, but their one pause, or more accurately many haltings, had come from who all they had encountered around the carnival. A good handful of alternates-- once again, more multi-dimensional interaction they hadn't calculated for, and once again, it had left them with a lot to process. So they stayed, wandered around some more, tried not to think of what they usually cared little for and hated themself for doing it anyways.

From what the android had heard, however, the circus was due to close for the night within the hour, and they considered it more than fair enough to begin the war of an argument with their partner that it was time to leave. Tartar could only hope he wasn't in a mood for after-hours mischief, which to their misfortune, wasn't unusual. They probably could have just left him there if he desired to cause trouble strongly enough, but then again; potentially having to bail him out of said trouble for getting caught did not sound like an ideal late-night-to-early-morning endeavor… if he got to drag them there in the first place, they could drag him home just as well.

They relocated the DJ easily enough, somewhat near where they had originally slithered away for some time to themself, and approached stoically. They'd run out of motivation to lace the usual oversaturated disdain into their tone, and inquired simply, "Have you finally wore yourself out? The carnival is closing soon, and I've been ready to go since we got here."

Octavio took in a deep breath, the evening breeze scented with fried foods wafting cool through his mask. He was returning from playing carnival games with an inkling he met earlier that day. After stashing his prize in a locker, Octavio had left to search for his partner. “Sure thing, T. I’m ready ta go.” He paused, feeling the AI relax slightly. “But-” He added quickly, “After we do one more thing.” He pointed towards a glimmering ring in the distance, looming above most of the other attractions. “We gotta ride the ferris wheel.”

The gathering dusk allowed the carnival its full splendor, rides twinkled festively, lights flickering in patterns and arcs along steel supports. His request certainly wasn't as severe as they had worried it might be, though they still weren't thrilled to participate. Octavio would take no kind of denial as an answer-- even a solid, “I'll wait for you at the bottom.” On their part was met with an even more insistent, “You have to come with me.”

Perhaps, when they asked why, it didn't sound genuine enough to warrant his explanation; for he simply dragged them off for the umpteenth time that day without giving one. Worn down from the morning's bout of stubbornness, and distracted by the afternoon's reflection, they put up very little fight.

Once boarded upon the ferris wheel, the attraction in question began its slow rotation, sending the two drifting into the air-- and Tartar finally received their excuse; "You never haveta do it again." Octavio assured his partner, "But ya gotta ride a ferris wheel at least once 'n ya lifetime."

They exhaled at this, having already spun around the same conversation with him countless times earlier that day and unsure how they could word it yet again: machines are not people, they don't need fun, I am not entertained by this.

But the point seemed to be lost on the Octarian, he appeared convinced they'd find some attraction or another in the carnival that would pique their interest. They'd only managed to become more confused as the day progressed, clearly being amused by none. But he hadn't relented even after this fact became apparent. Why was that?

"I scarcely find myself applicable to the concept." Was their response after a long enough pause, moving to prop their arm under their chin and lean slightly over the side of the ferris wheel's booth. The android stared out to the sky, towards the receding blacktop beneath them, anywhere but at their bandmate. Maybe he'd stay quiet and they could pretend he wasn't there.

They still felt the urge to ask the questions that had been on their mind all afternoon, their inability to create a solid analysis of the point of it all was building an insufferable pressure on their processors. It certainly wasn't a conversation they wanted to get into here of all places, let alone discuss it at all-- sitting next to their confrontational companion without an exit was the least enticing situation to question why they were spending time on this in the first place.

They stressfully ran a thumb over their artificial eyebrow, resting it above the outer edge to hold down the twitch that had developed from a fluctuating magnetic field. They knew they needed to calm down, but, feeling helpless to their current position did very little to ease them-- they inhaled deeply, internal fans purring audibly with the strain of keeping their core at a safe temperature.

After getting far enough up in the air, people milling about on the ground below looked small. Distant. The amount of space it illusioned was moderately calming to the reclusive AI, the brief comfort of solitude perhaps just enough to get them through the simplistic but ever-dragging action of a ferris wheel ride. Allowing themself to relax somewhat, closing their eyes and burying their forehead into their palm, the most pressing question on their mainframe passed their vocal hardware before they could silence it, "Why did you bring me here…?"

Only after their own voice passed their ears did they remember, Octavio was still in fact sitting right next to them, and they were not speaking to the air. . . . A flit of static choked their quiet expression after the first letter, a habit that had become an apparent censorship of one swear or another. They hoped he would ignore their question, "Nevermind."

Unblinking, he answered sardonically, “Because. You need to get outta the apartment once in a while, or ya joints will rust together.” He clicked his tongue. ‘For all ya artificial divinity, you sure can be thick.’ “I want you to be happy--” The words escaped prematurely and he lurched forward a fraction of an inch as if to catch them back.

Despite having over 100 years of experience in politics, he still hated lying.

He was tired of faking the part of the indifferent band member, pretending that Tartar’s insults never found their mark. Together they ran but not in unison, parallel lines that would never touch. Anger swept through his body, but he kept his eyes level, lazy. He cooly undid his facemask from around his ears, crushed the fabric into a ball in his fist and with all the strength in his arm, threw it as far away from the carriage as he could manage.

Tartar uttered a rueful laugh at his reply, of course he replied, and watched just out of range of their optic as he angrily, but calmly, threw away his mask. They found it foolish, but said nothing; he would inevitably need it again by the end of the night. They refused to follow his gesture. Octavio settled back into his seat, turned away from them and resuming his observance of the shrinking landscape. His eyes flecked with color from the strobing bulbs that rose up on either side of the ferris wheel.

Perhaps, if they had a little more self control, they'd have left the exchange at that. Yet, they still wanted to know why, why Octavio cared so much about the way they reacted to these attractions, why he kept bothering to try. They weren't sure how to ask anymore, each answer was more confusing than the last. "I have no reason to currently emulate 'happiness', you know. Not while this world continues to sleep, breathe, live in it's own filth every day." They processed as they spoke, yet again making some appeal that he might finally understand the reasoning of a machine, "Petty amusements like these are just distractions from my purpose for existing. They hold no value to me-- they're not supposed to."

The AI looked back to the ground, still wholly unmotivated to look their partner in the eye as they continued without restraint, "My motivation belongs only to cleansing this poor excuse of a sentient species as soon as possible. And you. You're upset that my resolve doesn't meet your expectations of how I should behave, then? Is that it?"

Expressions melted into each other, first Octavio pursed his mouth in a grimace, then pulled his lips tight over uneven fangs, his head still turned away. He finally settled back into a placid scowl.

"No--!" He cried sullenly, "I don't want ya ta be someone you’re not." He gnawed at the knuckle of his forefinger, one of his nervous habits.

Another bout of silence as the wheel climbed, stopping at intervals to let people on or off the carriages. "I'm sorry." He murmured finally, turning towards them, "I didn't mean to try and... Well, T, if I may, that's a bunch of bull. Squit. I know ya can be happy. Talkin about humans makes ya happy, listenin to retro. Shell, cleaning makes ya happy. I guess, I just can't tell what's you and what's…" he pointed to the black speck of his mask on the pavement below, "A front, a mask, 'ye old silicone imitation.'" Octavio leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he ran his hands over his face. His eyes were glassy with surfacing emotion. "Cod knows I want the inks gone as much as you. But it's not a waste to enjoy tha time you got, ‘specially after a hard day's work." He wondered if the beauty of the dusk had seized him, or if it was the security of knowing they had no other choice but to listen to him that made him so bold.

"What I want, is for you to realize there's more to life than obsessin' over a goal or a dream. You think you'll only find happiness when you get this or that, but it's a lie, T. Your life is now, however artificial you insist it is. You have a s--" he stopped himself, not willing to argue on the philosophical. He bowed his head and laced his fingers together over his knees "I know this cause I've lived it."

"You know?" They repeated him, their tone floating with a sarcastic awe, "You don't k n o w anything about me, be honest-- We are two entirely different kinds of creatures. I am aware organics like you need rest and distractions to relieve yourselves, but I do not operate on the same necessity."

Tartar's eyes searched the ground fervently as they suppressed the urge to squirm in their seat. Though everything Octavio had claimed about their nature could only be assumptions, it was more accurate than they cared to acknowledge. Did he really think they were so transparent? He couldn't possibly have a clue, they kept their personality under calculated restriction at all times-- at least, they felt sure they did.

"Why does it matter so much to you?" They finally blurted, turning fully to face him with a stern expression, "I do everything in my ability to hold up my end of our agreement, which should be your only concern towards me. Why are you bothered with anything else? With how I f e e l ?"

Afraid that continuing on the defensive side of the debate would inevitability expose information they strained to keep hidden away, they instead posed him a more burning question about his continued insistence that they must be able to enjoy the situation they were currently in, somehow. Why would he care? At the current moment, they felt quite the opposite of enjoyment of the ferris wheel, and especially the conversation at hand. Their only solace was in the recognition that their cart of the ferris wheel had finally crawled its way to the peak of the mechanical circle. Soon enough, they'd be descending, and Tartar could finally get away from both the physical and metaphorical ride they had been forced onto-- regardless of whatever conclusion Octavio was attempting to reach with them.

Wild fervor rose, red-hot in his throat, but the Octarian kept the fire subdued until they had finished. He gave himself a few moments to calm the desire to throttle some sense into them.

“Why shouldn’t it matter to me.” The question was a whisper, his eyes locked with their optics. “Would it surprise you—” a pause, “Would it shock ya to know sometimes I forget you’re a robot.” His voice rose slightly, indignation and passion beginning to color his face. “Why d’ya get so offended when I try ta treat ya with respect, when I extend ya common decency. Answer this T, why can’tcha wrap your head around the idea that I want to get to know you. Frill the Cod clam contract.”

The AI exhaled with a glitch-like halt, holding Octavio's stare with increasing difficulty as his expression began to speak more for him than words ever could. An error code appeared for a malfunctioning swirl of ink within their core-- a feeling they couldn't place, refused to, shoved back into its rhythmic flow through their systems.

Octavio curled his bottom lip under his teeth, “S’ much as I would like ta be a heartless bastard, I can’t help but be bothered with how ya feel.” With a shaky exhale he leaned his head over the back of the chair, staring blankly up at the darkening sky. They had finally reached the apex of the ride when it halted again, doubtless to allow more passengers off. Through his raging thoughts, Octavio noted that the ferris wheel’s turbo bulbs flickered out of sync.

>Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

#hypnothesis #inkcarnival #commander tartar #dj octavio #t-vax #wasa-b #writing #IF YOU THOUGHT THIS BLOG WAS GOING TO TELL A STORY WITHOUT HEFTY DOSES OF FANFICTION #YOU THOUGHT WRONG #AND I KNOW WHAT YOURE ALL THINKING #FEEL FREE TO SCREAM AT US AS MUCH AS YOU DESIRE #happy october #its been real

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hypnothesis-au · 5 years ago

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A Double Act [Part 2]

Hidden for spoilers, go to Part 1 if you haven’t read it yet!

Tartar had hoped this wouldn't be the case… Octavio cared, what an outrageous sentiment! The AI huffed again at this, their internal fans whirring as they attempted to process it. Up to that point, they had done nothing to encourage the idea, truly; if anything, they had been discouraging it with their pointedly spiney and frigid attitude.

Even after the Octarian leaned back and looked away, Tartar stared into the space where his eyes had been, silent and thoughtful. Thinking about it stirred nothing but confusion, and a slight disgust-- but they couldn't tell if it was for an octopus's concern for them, or the realization that they must have done something or slipped somewhere in their constant performance of a front to invoke it… They forgot themself in an impulse of panic, momentarily moving to stand up, to escape this ridiculous scenario, only to forcibly seat themself once again upon acknowledging that they were still perched ungodly high in the air.

"It's… pointless..." They hissed, slowly, fingers twitching as they reached out to grip the bar across the cart and dared a reply. "You're searching for something in me that does not exist. I've spent an immense amount of time operating without any kind of companionship-- I haven't just started requiring it now because you're here, and I guarantee you don't want it from me."

He was looking for something they dutifully shunned and ignored, at any rate. A number of biting insults, cold logic to dismantle his sense of attachment generated themselves quickly, but Tartar swallowed them all back. The last thing they needed was to incite him all the way to rage while stuck together in a small space… Though the statement they settled on couldn't have been considered much better, "Perhaps I can commend your craftsmanship, DJ, because it seems this face you built is convincing enough to fool even its own creator."

Octavio bristled. If he had a drill on hand, he would have begun to dismantle them, there and then. Though, it was likely not even that could prove his point to them, he realized wearily.

The android looked away, sighing once more, ready to end the discussion and leave in the most usual fashion of avoiding the more bitter conflict their interactions tended to inspire. What had been spilled, they could both easily pretend to forget had happened with enough distance between them-- that’s how it always went. Upon this, Tartar finally noticed they were still resting at the peak of the ferris wheel-- it took no effort to analyze that they had been there for marginally longer than the other previous stops. Down on the ground, a small group of carnival workers had gathered around the rides's control panel, some with tools in hand, and appeared to be tinkering with its insides…

Upon the tentative pulling on a lever, the ferris wheel's motors shuddered with effort, but propelled no movement. ‘This has to be a joke.’ Right in time with their observations, high-set speakers placed around the entrance of the attraction crackled to life as an employee spoke into an intercom on the panel.

"Attention folks, we're having some minor troubles with the ferris wheel motors-- nothing to worry about, just hang tight and enjoy the view and we'll be back in business in no time at all!"

… "N-... nO--" they groaned queasily, leaning over the edge slightly in disbelief at the odds, "You've gotta be f[***]ing kidding me."

How long was 'no time at all' going to be?? Far longer than they desired to continue sitting next to their bandmate arguing over the details of their sentience, or giving him any opportunity to pry into their 'emotions'--! Tartar abruptly scanned the distance to the ground, analyzed the data, and spat the conclusion with a panicked undertone, "... I could survive falling that distance."

Would they really go as far as to jump off? Somehow, the idea had suddenly presented itself much more enticing than before.

Octavio’s lidded eyes surveyed the brightly uniformed workers below them. At any other time, Tartar's remark about jumping would have perturbed him, but as things were he was near entertaining the same idea. "Do these questions really call ya out that much, T."

He refused to give them an inch of slack, "Nah, 's not the face. That just makes it easier ta lie. I haven't forgotten what you really look like. Whether yer a literal hot mess, or a glorified metal Barbie, ya still got tha same code, blood, binary d n a… I've seen some of your code, T." His voice softened "It's beautiful. I know that you're capable of emotion. Maybe you don't have everything all figured out… But if we gotta work together anyways, where's tha logic in pushing me away? If you could stifle your pride function for one second maybe you'd see that you can be more." He huffed before they could retort what he knew was on their mind, "Don't. Tell me that you don't need anything more. There's a lotta things people don't need in life, but it makes the days worth livin'." They grumbled at this, quietly, but certainly not unheard. After watching the workers for long enough and decidedly realizing that staring harder would motivate them to repair the ferris wheel no faster, the AI wearily turned back to Octavio as he spoke. As far as Tartar cared, this argument was going nowhere-- clearly he didn’t understand, and wouldn’t take their no as a simple answer-- Octavio pointed towards the sun, it had almost dipped from view, ribbons of hazy red and gold rippling above a black horizon. Wisps of clouds were turning deep shades of violet. "Tell me, what do you see, there."

As he pointed out to the sunset, they followed his gesture with their eyes, forcefully holding their expression neutral aside the unstable twitch of their eyebrow. They failed to see how it related to what he had been saying before-- frustrated, but prepared to change the topic at hand to anything else before it caused them to take any escape they might regret, they humored his question and restated the data as it entered their mainframe. “The sun is going down… It’s 265.48° relative to our location at 7:47:06 pm...”

They glanced back to him, though his expression could imply that more was expected of their answer. Tartar blinked, slowly, using the action to cover their exasperated eye roll and looked to the horizon once again, “There’s also image spectrums registering in #c41400 and #feb301, to name a few. I… don’t know, am I supposed to see something else? That’s all there is.”

Octavio hesitated, second guessing himself. Perhaps they were a lost cause. "Yes," he said gently in Octarian and summoning every ounce of composure he had left, he continued, "That's all the technical terms, facts, of what we're experiencing. But there's something more there than just the facts, Tartar. This sunset, out of the billions that have come before it, and will come after, is completely unique. Not one has been like it, or will be again." he restrained himself from reaching out to touch them. "And I wanted to spend it with you, here. Do you understand that?" He grit his teeth, knowing they didn't, dreading that they couldn't.

Tartar sighed quietly, no less confused by this explanation than any of his prior expressions. They did understand that nature could hold beauty, having experienced millions of days with nothing else to observe-- but it did little to detract from the point that they were questioning above it all, why he wanted to observe it with them.

"It's my gift to you. No one can replace this moment, or take it from you. This day has been frilling torturous for you, so maybe it didn't turn out like I'd hoped." Anger had dissolved into misery, frustration an acrid taste in his mouth. "But, there it is." He stared at the point on the horizon where the sun had disappeared, hating it. Despising it because Tartar refused to understand how inexplicably picturesque it was; they could not share in the beauty together.

A sinking feeling gripped the android’s core as they likewise watched the sun disappear alongside their partner. The organic sense of emotion, the idea of friendship, was not a variable they had needed to consider catering to for a long time. They had hoped that with someone as goal-driven and socially isolated as Octavio, they wouldn’t have to. They watched his expression, suddenly more aware than ever of how deeply the idea that it was a possibility had afflicted him. Something akin to sympathy, pity for his disposition as an organic creature stirred in their chest, and they found themself forcing the sensation away once more with a steely control over what they knew they were allowed to feel. This, was not one of those things. They had no desire to waver in their resolve for him, regardless of whatever broken expectations he had come to realize.

The AI opened their mouth to speak, unmoved in their stance on the matter-- and unable to grapple with the impending shame of having them once more reject his friendship, Octavio lifted the safety bar of their bucket. They only managed to get as far as a confused and alarmed shriek, as he rose to his feet; the thrill of the drop below him replacing all other thoughts as he jumped. Their mortified shout was lost in the chorus of exclamations from other shocked ferris wheel riders who also happened to notice the Octarian's fall. In midair, he shifted into an octopus, arms easily catching the overhanging frame. Tartar gripped the sides of the carriage as it swayed from the force of his departure, watching in horror and disbelief as Octavio leapt about the scaffolds of the ferris wheel without looking back to them, until he reached a mesh metal platform, the highest point on the wheel.

Breathless, he morphed back into an Octoling, the wind whipped his clothes, and nipped at his cheeks. He felt much better, freer, out of the little bucket. Invigorated by this freedom, Octavio cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered. He shouted at the sky until his throat hurt. Some of the workers called for him to get down, but he only belted his strong thundering laugh.

"Oct-- WasaA?!?" They sputtered up to him, the shock of his actions nearly jarring them from the habitual use of his stage name, “Oh my c O D?!?! Have you lost your mind???”

"C'mon up Tartar," he said, finally addressing them as he peered down at them between the metal slats, "You can see better from up here, 'n they seem ta be taking their time fixin' this thing."

They placed a hand over their mouth and wheezed a sound that mixed between immense displeasure and aghast amusement. If they had a real heart, it would have been racing. The sight of the DJ throwing himself from a nearly fatal height had done nothing to ease their emotional nausea at the situation, and yet, they couldn’t forget the blatant irony that they had suggested performing the same action out loud themself. At least, going up was a marginally better direction than the outcome of going d o w n . . . Working earnestly to clear the strings of code off their mainframe that had panicked for his safety, Tartar shook their head and stared up at the Octarian in both awe and exasperation at his request.

“I’m. . .n O t .. . going to make it up there, even if I wanted to,” They found they were miraculously out of breath for a machine that didn’t need to breathe upon speaking, “I’m not light or agile enough for what you just did. . . which was absolutely moronic anyways. . . can you please just... get down before you hurt yourself?” Though they doubted he would even begin to acknowledge their pleading, they felt it was worth the attempt while they still had the energy left to protest...

Kneeling on the platform, Octavio peered over the edge at them, his grin wide. "I'm never coming down." He announced proudly, his tentacles waving lazily, "Octocopters can bring me food, I'll get some turntables too, my feet will never touch tha ground again!" he was forced to pause, the icy wind stealing his breath. "Unless!" He shouted down, "You let me carry you up here!" He had expected their protest and had already devised a plan to get them up safely. “Wasa no--” they rolled their eyes at the story as he spun it, resting their face in their palm. Truly, there was no point in arguing with the determined Octarian now-- how he intended to haul a half-ton of machinery to the top of the wheel was beyond them, but by that time, they wouldn’t have put it past him to surprise them. To their common misfortune, he always did.

He turned away from them, and pulled something out of his pocket. He tinkered with the device and pondered their question; why? Why did he strive so tirelessly to touch their soul? So often he saw their face muddled with depression and loathing. Their dull, joyless eyes were branded upon his memory, telling him they simply survived moment to moment. Their aspiration was to accomplish one final goal and nothing more, forever. Octavio shivered, the thought more ink- chilling than the wind. Octavio wrestled his pride. Who was he to command them? Wasn't that their choice to make? Wasn't that part of Octarian code, the honor of a soldier? He grit his teeth against the vices being Shogun had instilled in him.

Boorish, stubborn, impulsive. Inkling. Staring blankly into the darkened sky, Tartar could never cease to note how similar Octavio behaved to the population of squids he so adamantly despised. They almost found the irony of it as humorous as it was appalling, though the thought was always left private, lest they insult him to the highest degree by suggesting the comparison to his face. Still, the truthfulness of this observation always brought them back to wonder just how they put up with him as long as they had been, and how would they manage to do it any longer--

Their musings were cut short, as Octavio landed in front of them with a soft plop, sporting his octo form. "Are ya ready?" The AI started at the rocking motion it sent through their seat once more. Before they could protest, or even question what he meant by whether or not they were ready, they found themself in his arms and launching into the air at high speed. The audio of their following screech distorted into the distinct shrill tone of a vintage telephone ringing-- unable to swallow down the unbridled alarm of the one takeoff that had managed to surpass the terror of any amusement ride they had been forced onto previously, Tartar could only cling to their bandmate for dear life and shout. This was surprising, they had guessed correctly in that regard, but they didn’t find it anywhere within the realm of sane that their parameters of guesswork had considered. Octavio really had lost his mind…!

When their ringtone faded out, they clamped a hand over their mouth to dissuade another uncontrolled scream from ripping through their vocal hardware. Their propulsion through the air slowed as they reached the apex of the jump, their body floating a few inches from Octavio's arms; hanging suspended against a growing backdrop of stars. The moment of weightlessness caught them off guard as they stared wide eyed, into the Octarian’s face-- absolutely carefree, somewhat unhinged…

How did they continue to put up with such an obnoxiously spontaneous individual? His attitude was an unstoppable force, his determination unbreakable no matter how they tried to deter it. He could not be, refused to be convinced they were nothing more than the task they were constructed for-- even if that was all they wished he would see. Was he simply just that headstrong, or was it something else...?

In the moment they could decidedly say, their tolerance could only be for the fact that he wore the attributes of an Inkling far better than any creature they had ever seen. They carried out their own existence with a rhythmic and impassive sense of duty, while he blazed his path with an unseizable passion and assertion to be seen. The difference was as clear as the night was from the day, and at its root it was the reason they knew they had established a partnership in the first place... There in the sky, wreathed with colored lights and a glow that came from an unearthly source; Octavio surely embodied the one thing they were certain they would never truly connect to, feeling alive. That was a spirit untouchable as the wind that whipped past their frame, something they knew they could never break. Not like this.

Their obligatory detachment from life was how it had always been, they accepted this fate, but seeing this truth restated before them in the form of pale violet eyes that knew what it was like to have such a freedom... they allowed the sadness a brief ripple through their system, before forcefully locking it out again. What did it matter? It was a waste of time to grieve the inevitable. They pondered this concept no longer than the short amount of time they spent suspended together midair, before the drop of the arc pushed another mind-numbing shriek from the android’s throat. The landing was as jarring as the departure, and Tartar uttered some only semi-coherent glitched sounds of disapproval as they gasped for air to supply to their coolant system. Nails digging into the fabric of his sweatshirt as they continued to grip him violently and reassess their surroundings, they finally managed a weak, “You’re i n s a n e . . .”

Part 1 >Part 2 Part 3

#hypnothesis #inkcarnival #commander tartar #dj octavio #t-vax #wasa-b #writing #the thot plickens #plot thickens???

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