#I wanted to know how a being of ABSOLUTE Good could parse the question of

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

Imagine a being of absolute good just points at you and says, "You're the bad guys"

[prismatic-starstuff]

actually you know what i'll. give some preliminary, very spoiler-heavy, underslept and stream of consciousness thoughts about the final boss; and by the final boss, i mainly mean—

—miquella, because my thoughts on him at this moment are clearer than my thoughts on radahn. (more on that later.)

(important disclaimer: i don't ship any of the characters mentioned in this post together, and i don't condone the behaviours mentioned. this is just a bit of a character analysis and my personal thoughts at this moment; they could change.)

i think miquella is genuinely all those epithets he has; kind and tender. i think he genuinely did want to make the world a gentler place. i think he meant, in his heart, every single word he said about compassion and love.

i do not think miquella knows what compassion and love are. or how to parse and display them in a healthy way, at least.

because healthy compassion doesn't boil down to 'i'll bewitch you so you're always gentle,' and healthy love doesn't boil down to 'i want you and so i'll take you.' but in miquella's mind, he genuinely believes that this is how these things look, and so those are the tools with which he means to build his new age; truly good intentions, but horribly misguided feelings and attitudes.

in the end, i think miquella is a very sad character. both in the sense of miquella personally being very unhappy, and also the sense that... analysing him makes me sad. because i don't believe he had any bad intentions whatsoever; i don't believe he was this conniving creature with malicious desires who knew full well that he was acting in cruelty... i believe he wholeheartedly thought he was doing good.

and i believe he was scared, and lonely, and desperate.

miquella, cursed with eternal physical childhood and frailty, didn't want the godhood that hung over his head like an inescapable threat. and so, when he found someone whose kindness and strength charmed him - as opposed to him having to do the charming - he clutched onto radahn... far, far too tightly.

and that's not good. of course it isn't. i'm not condoning any of it. but i just don't think it was out of cackling evilness or badness or malice; i just... think miquella really wanted someone to be there for him during the godhood he didn't want.

now, my whole opinion goes in different directions on whether or not radahn was in on this, wholeheartedly, ready to go. if he was, then fair enough, they made a vow in their youth and radahn's no victim. if he wasn't, then yeah, he was absolutely a victim in the situation.

i'm not gonna get too deep into mohg because that's very cut and dry and could take up entire posts in itself; mohg was used. used in miquella's well-meaning plan, yes, but used. which to me is... very odd, because it's making me reevaluate every single thing i thought i knew about mohg at all. it's a weird place to be in.

another thing about miquella is that he seems very much to be a person of extremes. if he's going to claim godhood, he wants to be rid of all that came before; including who he was. he literally went through the land of shadow ripping bits of himself off and out to get rid of them; got rid of a literal half of himself in saint trina.

and speaking of saint trina... i think it is extremely telling that she - literally the other half of miquella - tells us in no uncertain terms to kill him; as a mercy. that speaks volumes about the mental state miquella must be in.

lastly, there's the question of whether that eternal childhood was just physical, or also extended to miquella's mentality. personally, i think it was just physical; what he did exhibited a lot of unhealthy behaviours, yes, but... i don't think the root cause of those behaviours was him having a child's mentality. personally, there's not enough evidence there to believe otherwise imo.

so yeah... tl;dr: miquella makes me sad. he did some very bad things, but i don't think he's a bad person, which makes it even sadder. everything about him and radahn and malenia and mohg is fucked up and heartbreaking. and ultimately, i don't believe he's a deliberately manipulative evil nasty being; rather, someone who's drowning in despair to the point of self-destruction, someone who does not want his fate but is marching towards it as best he can, someone who did truly terrible things in the pursuit of what was at its heart a very innocent goal.

[thatgirlonstage]

Considering the cross section of people who want ao3 to have an algorithm with the painful lack of reading comprehension you see so often on the internet and it occurs to me that part of being able to use a website like ao3 the way it’s intended requires you to… know your own taste.

In order to input the correct filters to find what you’re after, you have to have some sense of what you like and what you don’t like and how those things are described in tags and categories that you can filter on. You have to have the ability to take a fic and parse out which pieces of it you responded to and then figure out how to get more of it. You are, with the aid of a filter system as fantastic as ao3’s, actually more effective than an algorithm at doing that once you know how! You know that the reason you liked this fic was because of the really gooey cuddle scene between A/B, so you know that now you should go look in tags like “Cuddling” or “Hugs” or “Comfort” or “Fluff” or “only one bed + Rated T”. An algorithm can’t tell if you liked the gooey cuddle scene or the fact that it was a steampunk AU or this specific author’s style, it can only make statistical guesses at the fact that a lot of people who liked THIS fic also liked THAT one. It doesn’t know WHY.

But like… that is a skill. It may be a very intuitive skill, especially for people who have been doing it a long time, but if you’re accustomed to being spoonfed suggestions I can guess it wouldn’t be intuitive at all. I can absolutely see how needing to search for your own preferences would stump you if you’ve never had to do it before.

And it is very much an exercise in both literacy and understanding your own taste. If you don’t bother to paint things you read or watch with any more nuanced brush than “I like this” or “I don’t like this”, then you never learn what, exactly, it is that you’re liking or disliking. You’ll never be able to pull a text apart to figure out which strands are compelling and which you could do without. You’ll never be able to tell the difference between what is a generally well-written story and what is tugging at something that you specifically enjoy. Especially in the climate of judging media by its moral correctness, where dislike and especially disgust gets equated to “there is something objectively BadWrong with this art and therefore NO ONE should like ANY part of it,” people are increasingly encouraged to sand away any understanding of their own personal tastes.

Knowing your own taste can be scary. Very seriously, it can be hard to look at yourself and reconcile all the weird, cringe, taboo, silly, gross, embarrassing, or fucked-up stories you might like. It can be easier to just go along with what other people tell you is good or bad, particularly when there is as much pressure as there can be in online spaces—both inadvertent and intentional.

But I promise, I absolutely promise, knowing your taste is the best and fastest way to find more art that you love. Figuring out what it is you like is the route to finding more of it, to finding art that resonates with you, art that bring you joy. Figuring out why you like it can be interesting, but that can be an even bigger and more fraught question to consider. You don’t have to understand the why. Just start with the what. It will unlock so many doors for you.

[whattraintracks]

22. Puzzling - TMNT 2012

Don't worry, guys, that wasn't supposed to happen.

When the bit of Kraang tech he's examining (read: poking randomly in the hopes that something will happen) explodes, Donatello's not sure if he or Raphael shrieks louder. He thinks it's Raph. Which would be way funnier under different circumstances.

He blinks against sooty particulates. "Huh, well, that wasn't supposed to happen."

He's amid a cloud of unexpectedly thick, slightly pink smoke. Which is on-brand but frankly annoying. He waves at the air in a vain attempt to disperse it. Maybe he can move this operation to the kitchen, work under the exhaust hood. He should probably install one in here. He gives up flailing his arms, and backs away from the desk. Step one to solving any problem is getting some distance. Step two is—oh, that's weird. The cloud doesn't seem to have moved since the initial explosion. What kind of particles are these? He hasn't seen Kraang tech do this before.

The moment he remembers Raph is also the moment he trips over him. With a yelp, he hits the ground. Hard. Raph giggles. Rude. He's going to have at least two bruises tomorrow. And his scream was definitely louder than Raph's, so he's lost any right to make fun.

"Dude," Donnie groans, pushing to his feet. At least he's away from the Kraang smoke, "Why'd you trip me?"

"I don't know," comes the high-pitched reply, "Why're you so big?"

By the time his eyes clear, he's pretty sure it's a genuine question, not an insult about his height. It makes more sense once he looks down, down, down to find Raph miniaturised.

Donnie throws his hands to his head. "That wasn't supposed to happen, either!" Raph just giggles again.

"Leo!"

As far as they can tell, based on Raph's appearance and memories, he's about five. Donnie can't even remember being that young. Which he counts as a good thing because kids are weird. Or maybe that's just mutant turtle kids. He doesn't have experience with normal children to establish a baseline. Leo and Sensei do, though, and they seem unperturbed by Raph's behavior. Even Mikey takes the whole thing in stride. He is, in fact, absolutely thrilled and oscillates between gathering blackmail material and doing whatever Raph asks.

Donnie will admit he's having trouble making sense of it all. First, and he thinks he’s mentioned this, that was not supposed to happen. He can't figure out how a broken Kraang tech part without any detectable energy source could have caused something like this. Which naturally leads to the question of how he's meant to fix it. Raph has no idea what happened, either, so he's no help. Worse, he just might be the most confusing being Donnie has ever met. Take yesterday, for example.

He's not sure what time it is when he stumbles out of the lab for breakfast, so it might not technically be in the range of the day at which it is appropriate to call a meal breakfast. His brain is too full of viscous pink Kraang smoke to care. It must be some mealtime because everyone but Master Splinter is in the kitchen when he arrives. Leo is at the island supervising Raph and Mikey's mess-making by the stove.

Raph perks up, "Hey Donnie! I wanna tell you a question."

"Ask nicely, Raph," Leo reminds, hiding a smile behind the rim of his tea cup.

"Please, I wanna tell you a question." He barrels on, "How do you open your labrador?”

Open his what? Donnie stares at the space above Raph's head, trying to parse the question until a nudge from Leo resets his brain. "Say what?"

"Your labrador!" He flings his arms out, nearly knocking himself to the floor. Mikey catches the lip of his shell just in time.

“What Labrador? Raph, I don't have a—”

“Yeah, you do!” He's angry of a sudden. Of course, he is. But it's weird. It's not the first time Donnie's made him mad since the incident, but he's never gotten in anyone's face or stormed off with a huff. He just screeches until he gets whatever it is that he wants. It's Raph's anger, but it's not. “It’s how you get to the place you do all your smart stuff!"

Mikey swoops in, crouching to squeeze Raph gently, then translates, “He means the door to your lab, bro.”

“The door? Oh. Why would—?" Donnie sighs heavily, sinking into the stool next to Leo. “Raph, that’s the lab door,” he enunciates, “Not a Labrador. A Labrador is a dog breed."

Just like that, Raph's face unscrunches into something thoughtful. “So it’s not a labrador?”

Well, at least the exasperation is familiar. "I literally just said that. It’s a normal door.” Leo clicks at him warningly. Come on, what is he supposed to do here? Seriously, this feels surreal. Maybe this whole dialogue is a dream, and he's hunched over his desk right now. He straightens his shell to test for any worse-than-usual aching.

“Okay," Raph says. Then he turns around. Just like that. As if the entire conversation never happened. Never mind his original question or whatever he was trying to ask. He makes no sense, literally none at all.

But, you know what, fine. Donnie has to eat anyway so he can go back to the "place where he does all his smart stuff" or whatever. So he can figure out how to get his actual brother back, who at least makes sense most of the time.

Leo finishes his tea, returning Raph's enthusiastic wave goodbye, and then there are three. Mikey and Raph finally settle down to eat whatever noxious concoction they've whipped up as Donnie cleans his dishes. Freshly fed, his brain refills with extradimensional smoke and engineering.

"Well, that's boring!"

He fumbles with his mug at the sudden shout. A glance over his shoulder finds Raph, who had been eating quietly, now glaring at him.

“You should name that boring normal door Labrador so we can just call it that anyway," he says firmly.

He's not sure why he tries to ask, “Why would I—”

“Or or!" And it's like a switch again, anger suddenly dissipating. "We could name it something cooler! Like Thundoor from Crognard!”

“Thundarr,” He corrects. It's too late, Mikey's joins in.

“That’s awesome, little dude!" Mikey laughs buoyantly. "We should name all the furniture!”

“Yeah!”

And Donnie is so tired and so lost, and Raph is too much and too little of his brother at the same time it’s not even funny anymore. He doesn't think it ever was.

“Come one, Dee!" Mikey hoists Raph onto his shoulders, naturally content to ignore the messy kitchen. "Help Raphie and I name everything in the lair!”

Donnie tries to shake his head as Raph reaches for him. “Can you! Can you, please? Just for a little bit, please, Donnie, please?” Oh, now he recalls his manners.

"No, Raph." He bangs his mug onto the drying rack, ignoring Mikey's frown. "I don't have time for your nonsense questions and weird games. I'm trying to fix you."

It's not until he slams closed the lab door that the words trailing after his dramatic exit finally click. A puzzled sort of muttering from Raph: "Fix me? But I’m not broken."

So maybe he got a little too worked up, as tired as he was. But he's better now! He's eaten. He's slept five hours. He's determined to sit here until he cracks this thing.

And then someone bangs on the door.

He drops his head with a groan. How is he supposed to heroically solve all of their problems in these conditions? “Who is it, and what do you want," he shouts into the pages of his notebook.

"Once a second!"

One second, he mouths to himself. He listens to Raph struggle with the door for a lot of seconds and hopes he'll give up. He probably won't. Donnie better unlock it before he hurts himself. Or worse, starts screaming. Only because Leo would find some way to blame Donnie for it.

He shoves the door open, not at all irritated. Or vindicated either, when Raph falls on his shell and his sai skitter across the floor. Wait. “I thought Sensei took those out of your—Hey!”

Five-year-old Raph may not be much of a ninja but he is pretty slippery. He scrambles under Donnie's arm and launches into the rolling desk chair.

“Raphael." He glowers, summoning his inner Leo, "You are not allowed in the lab—”

“Without you,” he recites, spinning the chair so Donnie only catches glimpses of his cheeky smile. “But you’re here too! So it’s okay.”

It most definitely is not. Raph has no understanding of lab safety right now, so if Raph stays in here, then Donnie will have to keep an eye on him, and if Donnie has to watch Raph, then he can't focus on his work. He does not want Raph in here, and he says so.

“Donnie, I'll be so so so good. Please!” Oh, Mikey absolutely taught him how to do that with his eyes. Not cool, Mike.

“Raph," Donnie faux whines back. "I need to work. Go play with Leo or Mikey."

"Ugh," Raph flops onto his shell, letting his head and limbs hang. “But Sensei and Leo are medating, and Mikey’s with Red."

“Meditating," he corrects, "And I know you know her name is April.”

“Casey calls her Red.”

“Yeah, well, Casey’s a—” Raph looks at him with wide, innocent eyes. A promise on his face that anything Donnie says will be repeated. "It’s polite to call people by their name."

Raph hums, continuing to spin idly, “But I don't call you Donatello, I call you Donnie. And you call me Raph or sometimes Fai.”

Not a bad point. But what was that second thing? Fai? Oh. His brain retrieves fuzzy, forgotten memories. That's right. When they were both little, that had been his nickname for Raph. Just between the two of them. He can't remember when he stopped using it.

“Right," he says slowly. "But those are nicknames. They're a shorter version of your name.”

“Oh, okay.” Then Raph rolls out of the chair, clunking to the ground shell first, and wanders away to explore the lab.

Donnie retakes the seat, resigning himself to further interruptions. Part of his brain is devoted to thinking up better excuses in case this is one of those conversations Raph returns to without warning. The rest of his awareness is on Raph as he pokes and prods at books and equipment and even poor Timothy. It takes the better part of a half hour for him to realise he's still sitting at his desk not moving a muscle.

He growls, gripping his head. Raph is on him in an instant. "What's wrong? Can I help? Do you need a book? Do you want one of mine? I can get Leo! Or Sensei, or—"

"No," Donnie snaps.

He gapes as Raph's beak trembles and his eyes fill with tears. "You're crying. Why are you crying? Please stop crying." He slides to the floor next to Raph, "I'm sorry? It's just. I'm trying to focus! I need to fix you, but I don't—"

“I don’t want you to fix me!” He shouts, scrubbing his face and hiccupping. “I just want to play! Why won’t you play with me anymore?"

“Raph, I," Donnie looks down at his hands, "I don’t have time,” he finishes lamely.

“Yes, you do! You’re just being mean!” He runs out of the lab. Probably to someone who actually understands him. Someone who tries. Donnie wonders if he’ll ever stop messing things up for Raph.

Because as far as they can tell, this version of Raph went to bed one day, and the family he found upon waking was suddenly different. Of course, Raph is frustrated and confused and probably a little scared. He's not just normal Raph in a smaller body. Donnie might've realised that sooner if he'd spent more time with him instead of causing one mess after the other and then hiding from it all in his lab.

Donnie doesn't remember when he was five, but he's heard Sensei's stories about their childhood. The ones about his younger self hanging on Raph's every word. That one embarrassing retelling of the biggest fight Donnie ever caused by announcing Raph was his favorite brother. His father's memories of them doing everything together, at least until Donnie really got into science. So he steps out of the lab and locks it behind him. His brother, this brother, needs to come first.

He must look contrite enough that Leo only grills him a little before he points to Raph's room. After a single breath of indecision, he sits, shell against the door.

“Hey, Fai?” he starts, tugging at his fingers, “I’m really sorry. I have been pretty mean lately, haven’t I?” It takes a few moments, but a little thud echoes on the other side of the door.

Relieved, he continues, “I’m not as good at this as I used to be. I might need your help. But I’m out of my lab right now, and we can play whatever you want.”

Donnie hits the floor before he realises the door has swung open. Little Raph is looking down at him, eyes still watery but excited. "Really? Anything? Even Space Heroes!"

And Donnie almost can't believe it's that easy. He smiles with Raph's infectious joy. “Space Heroes? Who are you, Leo?”

Raph collapses into him with a laugh that banishes the rest of his tears as Donnie reaches out, tickling him just like he's seen their big brother do. He's still giggling when Donnie staggers to his feet. “Think I could use some bedding to build us the Dauntless?”

Raph cheers. Launching into an explanation of his favorite episodes and characters as he directs them around the lair to collect supplies. If this isn't blackmail material, Donnie doesn't know what is. Raph will never be able to deny that he likes Space Heroes ever again. Once Donnie figures out how to reverse this Kraang-smoke-induced de-aging that is.

He does still have to. They need Raph as he should be: their teammate, their protector, their equal. But if he were here in those roles right now, Donnie knows he would have heard a thousand times over that he needs to sleep, to eat, to take a break for at least five minutes, Don, come on.

So he'll try. He'll take breaks to hang out with his favorite brother. He'll get a lot of experience building sheet spaceships and pillow forts. And by the end of it all, Donnie will realise his little brother really does just want to play and ask silly questions that probably don’t seem so silly to him. He'll decide this little version of Raph isn't a puzzle of confusing emotions. He's the same pieces he's always been, unfiltered and untethered from all the pain and fear of their older selves.

And so, even after Raph returns to 16, whenever the thought creeps up on Donnie that he's not doing enough, that he needs to fix it. He'll lock his lab behind him and say, "Hey, Fai! Wanna play something?"

[mooestriovermind]

As someone who has Adhd I must say I found your post interesting. I’ve definitely had experience where some really definitely worked and some didn’t, and I guess because of the lacking similarity what I’d heard about for others I got demotivated.

Sometimes it was loosing focus in the middle of an audio file. Sometimes it was just the format of the intended induction too but. Some of them obviously worked, don’t get me wrong, I just could never get the same thing others talked about. By that I mean things you see in hypno related media, think triggers and being easily dropped in a matter of seconds for example.

For an example your post on the fractionation by attempted biting, something which appeals very much to me as people very much call me puppy, feels like an impossible thing to achieve. And despite this it’s something I very much wish I was able to do.

As someone who absolutely adores being hypnotized and has unmedicated ADHD, I can say that a lot of it for me personally is expectations and my perception of things. I used to think that I would never be able to be hypnotized very quickly, much less drop myself. And yet today, sometimes I can be hypnotized simply by somebody telling me that "you're just going to drop for me now, aren't you?" or something similar. This is because I better understand the context of the situation- not because I'm magically better at being hypnotized for any arbitrary reason.

When it comes to being hypnotized "effectively," you have to remember some foundational things (below). If I repeat things, it's probably because there's a lot of overlap, and also some things are just that important.

It can be hard to find out why hypnosis might not be working for you without help. You have to consider all the factors in play- What I mean to say is you have to consider all the things that may be affecting your trance, even things you may not realize are affecting your ability to be hypnotized. Second opinions are useful! (I am more than happy to help, hit me up)

Hypnosis is experienced differently for everyone. If it's not going the way you thought it might, consider how there really isn't a wrong way to be hypnotized, per se. The only "wrong" way to experience hypnosis is by giving up and deciding not to try anymore.

The more you know about the hypnotic process, the more effective it will be. That said, a lot of information on hypnosis is usually on the harder side to read. If you're finding it difficult to parse large amounts of academic information, I'm more than happy to parse some of that info down for you into more digestible chunks- or visit learnhypnokink.com! It's a very good resource for hypnotists AND subjects alike.

Hypnosis is all about your personal perception of things. If you believe something should go a certain way when being hypnotized, it could cause certain outcomes-depending on context. In this specific context, believing that you are "ADHD, and thus difficult to hypnotize," is likely something that is holding you back from experiencing full trance.

Hypnosis is best experienced in an intimate environment. Sure, some people practice tying themselves up with rope, but isn't it more fun and engaging when someone else is doing it? And wouldn't you want that person to be someone you love and trust? Hypnosis is exactly the same way, AND it's more effective if you are able to let go and trust your partner, like any other bdsm.

Practice, practice, practice. Feel it out and find out what works, and what doesn't. Why doesn't that thing work, then? Find out why. Experiment. I cannot stress enough that doing this with a partner is not only great for bonding with them and getting to know them better, but also the best possible way to practice as a subject or a hypnotist.

These are very important, but they don't cover absolutely everything. I cannot stress enough the importance of knowing as much as possible, and that you should always be asking questions to find out more. With hypnosis, you cannot always accept people at face value, as there are always so many misconceptions. Even if someone is 100% believable, always cross reference if possible!

Yes, this includes me! You should probably review the information I'm giving you here and consider its legitimacy- this comes from about 4-5 years of experience as both a subject and a hypnotist, and there's plenty of people out there who probably know more than me.

That said, there's probably a lot of conflicting information out there, considering that so much of hypnosis is done based on the subject, and subjects tend to be different in a variety of ways. So remember! Consider all the facts, all the information, all the things you know. And make your best guess! Gather data and infer what you can.

Closing / TL;DR

If you skipped that whole thing because of how long it was (mood), then I would ask that you go back and read the pink text, at least. I highlighted some of the main points with pink text, but I will give you a brief recap of some of the major main points.

There is no wrong way to be hypnotized

Learn all that you can about hypnosis

Hypnosis is about perception, not focus

Trusting your hypnotist (like actual trust) goes a long way

Practice and experiment and find what works best for you

There are a lot of misconceptions in hypnosis- some less commonly known than others

Additional points I did not cover in full:

Audio files are good for practicing, but only if you already have a good handle on how to be hypnotized. Otherwise, they can be a little bit discouraging.

Cut and paste inductions are inferior to a hypnotist who can react to you in real time. They observe what you do, and will apply what they know to hypnotizing you further.

Hypnosis doesn't require relaxation. While relaxing helps, a lot of people can enter trance states that feel more like excitement or hyperfixation rather than what would be considered to be the usual hypnotic state.

You will never stop thinking- but you can think about only one thing, which is very close to not thinking.

Please visit learnhypnokink.com!!! It's a very good resource and will not take you too long to read, and it can also link you to longer resources that go more in depth.

Remember that there's always more to learn- thanks for reading my long ass ask response, I hope it helped. And here, have a gold star!

⭐

[blackjack-15]

no you know what let's keep going

TINA MY BELOVED

EBRA MY BELOVED

every second counts, huh? alright what's gonna waste our time this ep

RICHIE FATHERHOOD MOMENTS LET'S GO

and look at that! he respects the other parent, he talks her up to his daughter...and of course the ex-wife is talking about child support to/around the child. fabulous.

richie, despite his faults as a person, is a really good dad. let's have more of that? please?

"i just needed a break [from taylor swift]" and oh, do we all. tumblr blacklist can only do so much

syd calling? he spending too much time cleaning?

NOPE

"did you really give me a fake number?" oh. what a delight.

oh this little passive aggressive "should my feelings be hurt" thing? yeah what was she, the mean girl in school who just thought of herself as "friends with everyone"?

"mm. no no no. that must have been a mistake" he leads with the truth (the affirmative mm), then corrects to a lie -- a lie in the passive voice, no less. if he was any more removed from her there'd be a court order involved

wow, pulling the "i know where you sleep so you can't run from me" card. Romance. sparkle sparkle.

this conversation is like my local high school. no chemistry.

"just walk me through giving me a fake number" so she's got issues with being told "no". definite high school mean girl

"it wa a mistake. i'm sorry. *beat* i'm sorry" "thank you. i really appreciate that" we've reached the point in the evening where i tell claire to go to hell. earlier than expected!

"is it okay that i have your number or did you really not want me to have it?"

sigh.

see, this is a question best answered by the fact that HE GAVE YOU THE WRONG EFFING NUMBER. millions of drunk dudebros at bars have managed to parse that information and figure out what it means. it's either escaping her -- unlikely -- or she absolutely doesn't care, and is asking now, after she's beat acceptance into him, to be like "see i asked i'm a good person"

also his pause before he agrees apologetically? mm.

"okay say that one more time" a second go to hell! she could enter the hall of fame if she keeps this up.

"are you busy today?" *various carmy noises of hesitation, unsure how to say 'yes' now that she's very neatly placed him a position of apologizing for the guilt of disappointing her* "okay can you like not make this weird?"

i want y'all to know i had to actually step away and breathe. further post to come i need to scream about this, and not in the fun way

[that-gay-jedi]

You know, I really want more used-sounding voices in music in general, women especially bc there's definitely an element of misogyny, but like even when you look at what mostly passes for aged/smokey voices in men it's mostly just either basses who people think don't sound "youthful" because we stereotypically associate tenors with sounding fresh and young, or vocalists in genres with either growling or a lot of chest voice etc that sound just like every other singer if/when they do a song where it's relevant.

And like, I could bore you with all the anatomical details of what makes your voice either sound for lack of better terms "new" vs "used", but that's not really the point.

And sure there's a kind of self-selecting process that goes on because people whose livelihood rests on their voice are more likely to take care of their voices and can maintain their initial sound for decades if they're both lucky and really dilligent, and because successful musicians have money to pay for ways to reduce the rigours of touring and whatnot on vocal health that less popular ones I may not have heard of don't have etc etc, BUT.

Good vocalists whose voices have been noticeably altered by previous workplace/environmental factors or by cumulative years of lifestyle choices or by the ravages of TIME to which none of us are ultimately immune can bring a sense of like vulnerability/rawness/realism/rugged endurance to their performance that a mint condition voice just absolutely cannot match, and there's such an utter lack of it available both locally and commercially we're severely missing out.

This goes across genres and way beyond any question of what's "authentic" by the way. I don't require every song about striking coal miners so come from people who sound like they've worked 20+ years in the mines themselves, and in fact there's a power and beauty in the idea of someone with a relatively pampered voice who's seen entirely different kinds of hardship putting their pipes behind the words of those who struggled before. But you reach a certain age where, metaphorically, the knight in scratched and dented armour is more romantic to you than the shiny one, and yet for all the glut of music we have about romance there are not nearly enough love songs that "get" me (or they may lyrically but only lyrically) now I've reached that age- as just one example.

AND like. Singing is an art that requires a tonne of knowledge and work. Even people with the most naturally beautiful voices don't just wake up one morning knowing exactly how to breathe for which notes nor having the impressive lung capacity many genres prize nor knowing how to read music (or parse music by ear) etc etc etc. Which means there is something so powerful and aching and HUMAN about someone who can hear that their own voice doesn't sound like it could've if their life had been different or like it did when they were younger etc etc still putting in the immense amount study and practice to learn to use the voice they DO have. It adds delicious texture and depth to everything they sing.

Likewise, if someone already has put all that time and energy in and then something alters their voice AND THEY RELEARN/ADAPT AND KEEP SINGING, think about what that puts into everything they sing thereafter.

It's why we love fictional characters who grow beyond deep trauma or have prominent physical scars or who start off their story as a jaded antihero etc etc etc. The essence of what it is to be human is to live with loss and imperfection and still work toward your human desires to be heard, to create, to do, to learn. It's surviving hardship and being changed by time and experience but still reaching out and grasping the fact that YOUR ARE ALIVE with both hands. To not be able to go back to a past that no longer exists, to never again be the same person you were before X or Y thing and yet YOU ARE STILL HERE and deciding that FOR AS LONG AS YOU'RE STILL HERE YOU WILL NOT BE SILENCED.

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 61 - apple cutting

HA! Another ambiguous episode title! Hard Shoulder as in Breekon & Hope being like solid wood when Daisy hit them (like them having a hard shoulder) and the hard shoulder of the road. Or possibly Daisy' shoulder was meant as well? Jarring her arm when hitting Breekon & Hope and then being hold with a firm grip by her shoulder so she wouldn't follow Zack into the coffin.

I love Fay's voice btw. I could listen to zir for hours.

JON "…Right. Um, so, you came to deliver one of the tapes. From Basira? The uh, the, the audio tapes. … So… can I have it? Please?" DAISY "I’m thinking." - Is it already happening here? Does Daisy already feel Jon's compulsion and tries to parse what it is? Because next time, she's already prepared:

JON "…If you don’t mind me asking, hhhow long have you been sectioned, now –" DAISY "[angrily] I do mind – … 14 years." - Here it definitely happened.

DAISY "Not as long as you understand my policy: if it gets out, I’ll break every bone in your body." JON "[sigh, muttering] There are worse things that could happen to them…" - It makes me sad, that he is already expecting all sorts of horrible fates that could (and will) happen to him.

(Cont.) DAISY "[confused, possibly offended] What?" JON "Uh, nothing. Uh, statement of Detective Alice “Daisy” Tonner of the London Metropolitan Police. What’s the subject?" - Peak office comedy again.

It's the 1st December. Jordan Kennedy's statement was on 3rd November, exactly 4 weeks ago. Including Jordan's and this statement, that means Jon recorded 7 real statements in a span of 4 weeks.

"A Wednesday afternoon doesn’t see a lot of traffic" - Is it also tradition in the UK that public services are closed on Wednesday afternoons? In the village I'm living in, even all the non-supermarket-chain shops have closed on Wednesday afternoon.

"Part of me wanted to spot some idiot who I could take my bad mood out on" - First time around I immediately decided that this character is an absolute asshole and that I hated her. (Wow, that would drastically change in S4…)

Seriously, delivery vans driving reaaaally slow I find justified to check out. That's very suspicious for not having their load secured correctly and that being the reason for them to drive so slow.

"The man who got out looked normal – so normal that these days I can’t really picture his face. Said his name was “Tom.”" - High probability that this is Not!Sasha's Tom.

"From the back of the van, there was a sound of moaning." - While on my first listen I was lucky to recently already have relistened to MAG 2, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to connect things (because I couldn't remember anything from that episode). But heavy rain and moaning I immediately thought that it's gotta be the coffin!

"I yelled at them to explain what the hell was going on, but they just stood there, staring at it. So I hit one of them with my baton." - Oh yeah, that Daisy definitely is an awful person…

"I shouted for him, started to run but I felt a huge hand grip my shoulder. I grabbed it with my good arm, tried to escape it, but the grip was too strong. The texture of the flesh was like hard rubber. All I could do was watch as my partner kept walking into the earth, on stairs that couldn’t be there." Isn't it ironic? Here they saved her, but the next time Daisy would see Breekon & Hope and the coffin again, Breekon will make her go into the Buried herself.

JON "Uh, there is one other thing – I’ve been meaning to ask Basira, but you might know better –" DAISY "I’m done." - He's doing it again…

(Cont.) JON "Oh – yes, it’s just, j– [quickly] do you know anything about vampires?" - Now here's why he makes the perfect Archivist. Just can't shut up, asking more and more questions even when facing possible violet people (and later monsters)… tbh I'd probably also totally abuse a power like this.

DAISY "[anxious, drawn] Don’t tell Basira. She doesn’t know about that procedure. I, I’m not sure how much she’d understand" - Daisy worrying about what Basira might think of her? Even if it's actually straight up killing monsters in this instance, but Daisy really don't want Basia to know what she's capable of.

It's interesting that the coffin is connecting Jon and Daisy that much. When they met for the first time Daisy tells her statement about the coffin. Next time both of them will be dealing with the coffin, they actually start bonding, which slowly turns into a genuine friendship.

JON "Well, that’s a matter for later. I need to go home. Try to get some sleep." - Good! Keep up that attitude!… I'm also going to sleep now XD

Fay's voice is indeed great,

The Archivist, The Wolf and the Coffin... sounds like a Narnia book

[moe-broey]

Do you ever think about Triandra grieving for the childhood she lost when she was forced to kill her father, and the emotional burden of hiding the truth from Peony? And how Triandra feels her anger towards her father will make people view her as despicable?

MAN........ I've absolutely been rotating this in my brain... I'm very much still in the early stages of parsing out How to write her, and huge props to everyone who helped me consider the broader picture too (category 5 tunnel vision incident 😓)

LIKE. ABSOLUTELY these are huge impactful things about her... I think something else I was reminded of that was really significant to look directly at was, how her lost memories also affect her mental/emotional state. And the fact that it's not just a case of repressing the memories psychologically (though, I think you could take creative liberties and explore that route on top of what happened canonically). It's Freyja who wipes Triandra's and Plumeria's memories whenever it becomes too painful for the girls or inconvenient for Freyja, as well as a way to keep them dependent on her. And like I talked a lot about the girls not being able to process what happened to them, having to grow around the pain, but I think what I completely neglected to consider was well!!! How COULD they even address it, if their memories were also being shut down and locked up within themselves.

So like... absolutely, and I have been thinking about this nonstop, I do have to reconsider A Lot in how I was approaching How To Write Triandra. She really would be starting completely from square one. Which, I think that aspect went over my head a bit cause personally, I'm so far beyond that point? And I think, because of that, I was REALLY struggling to even place where to start when attempting to capture her, haha. I think maybe I was ten steps ahead of where I really should be starting!

LIKE!! Before I get way too off topic LMFAO, I think what you're asking is what I was asking myself. I was REALLY fixated on the father-murder bit (because. Well. It is significant). But now, I almost think, I have to go further back?? Like, emotional processing-wise. Augh... but also full disclosure I AM still having A Lot of trouble pinning anything down LMFAOO

I think. To best answer your question. I think, the grief of lost childhood would have to come much later. After maybe, unpacking the reality of her situation, and fully internalizing that it (wasn't her fault? That's what I want to say, but also, I'm unsure what the trauma work response would be for a child who killed their parent in self-defense/to protect a younger child). I do know, she would have to work through her beliefs that she's irredeemable, despicable, nothing but trouble, before she can even get to the point of grieving for herself. I think, what would make this more difficult for her is her current role as a bringer of nightmares -- not only does she have this horrifying burden from her childhood, she also feels terrible about having to give mortals nightmares. Which is something current-day for her that reinforces her belief that she's a bad person, that she does nothing but cause trouble and make others suffer. (Now may be a good time to disclose I'm a bit behind on the current FBs rn LMFAO, but I do like the direction they're taking/I really believe it's overdue!!! Recontextualizing nightmares as either information that can be useful for someone to navigate in their waking hours, or maybe there's a handful of strange individuals who Want to have nightmares. For. Reasons 👍) And we haven't even GOTTEN to Peony yet!!!!!! AUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Any which way! As I parse out the story I want to write, a huge shift in approach is tone. I think, what needs to be most present, is compassion. There's still conflict, I still really want to characterize her as somewhat antagonistic -- I think, maybe, she doesn't know how else to reach out. And I still want there to be apprehensiveness, a practicality that can be cold. But at the core, I really want there to be kindness. And I think that Was always the goal, but again! I do think I've had to change the way I've been thinking about it! 😅 Just like. Compassion! ENHANCE

[gynandromorph]

Hey more Jessie questions,

Light is a particle and a wave, it is energy that is constantly radiated and interpreted by the brain thru the eyes as various colours. We've gotten very good at making screens that constantly emit massive amounts of light. So, could Jessie take the light coming off a smartphone screen, demand that it remain static but manipulable, and have an irl screenshot that she can display and hold? Idk if that parses, but I have an img in mind of Jessie having a massive plastic binder filled with nothing but self radiant memes she and the ants made about herself.

And;

This next one comes with the assumption that Jessie can create a holy artifact, since it would be trivial for her to write that an empty soda is holy. The question is, how do worshippers interprete the artifact? Would the ants go 'This is an object Jessie has made holy, thus it is holy.' or would they try to fit it into a wider mythology that is built around Jessie? Using an irl example, the Shroud of Turin was not the burial shroud of Mr JC, but it was still treated as such until scientists could determine that it definitely did not have blood on it. Thus the shroud spent 700~ years of it's existence as a venerated christian artifact that fit with christian mythology, and the Catholic Churches current opinion on the shroud being somewhere close to 'it's probably not the real thing, but we won't spoil the fun'.

And;

Don't feel like you're being nitpicky if you feel the need to correct me! I went from Christian to Atheist real fast and am only really properly learning abt other religions nowadays. I'm focused on Greek polytheism at the moment tho, and thus I haven't done the proper due diligence on the other Abrahamics. If you know smth that I said is false, or I bark up the wrong tree, or paint with too wide a brush, I will happily differ to your knowledge. I fucking love learning abt religions, and if I get to learn Abt them via questions about a blorbo as cool as Jessie? Mega cool

First question: she could definitely do that. I want to be cheeky and say that light in her universe is a lack of darkness, with darkness being ink on paper. She could absolutely have some kind of ethereal meme binder.

Second question: generally they have a mythology which isn't 100% accurate to Jessie's autobiographical life, but tracks close enough, with some bizarre "parting the sea" level parts that never happened, probably. For a holy soda can I could see them making something up about a soda she just happened to TOUCH, but also one she explicitly stated was a holy object -- the latter being a lot more likely to directly integrate literal events into the mythology. I'm thinking about how Jessie says everyone knows Twiddler is a holy site now and how a lot of the cult is structured around the Twiddler vector of communication. What I know is Jessie has direct contact with them periodically, so if it's too out-there they Will be corrected.

Had no idea about the shroud of Turin, never even heard of it before. Huge theology pog

[thewickedkat]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

tagged by my lovely friend @vcaudley!

Are you named after anyone? - to the best of my knowledge, no. i don’t know if this makes my family more or less imaginative.

When was the last time you cried? - yesterday, i think it was? or maybe the evening before. was reading a fucking excellent fic and it was sweet, and aching, and hollowed me out so thoroughly i felt like an echo of myself and i had to stare at a wall for about ten minutes while i pressed down on those emotional bruises until i could endure it. fantastic.

Do you have kids? - i don’t have human kittens (i do not want them), but i do have two year-old regular kittens, nearly a year old.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? - yes. i genuinely don’t think i could function without it. when texting i’m more careful, because i know being deadpan can be difficult to parse.

What sports do you play/have played? - for enjoyment, or as a team-building nightmare in school? i don’t sport for funsies--though i really do miss swimming. used to swim laps and had excellent endurance. in school i tried to play basketball, because it was Indiana and i am tall, but...it was not a good scene.

What's the first thing you notice about people? - overall body language and tone of voice. comes from having to gauge emotional weather of those around me. thanks, trauma!

What's your eye colour? - Green.

Scary movies or happy endings? - what kind of scary? like, Saw films (bleh)? or psychological thrillers (yes please)? and who doesn’t like a happy ending (not necessarily like that)? you ask me, not enough happy endings; everything is trying too damn hard to be grimdark and edgy and it makes me tired.

Any special talents? - improv and memorising stuff. i’m excellent at memorising. i can also make hella awesome costume jewelry.

Where were you born? - here. which is not there. it is potty little South Central PA.

What are your hobbies? - reading, knitting, making jewelry, leaving faintly unhinged feedback on fic authors’ works; pondering the lives of fictional characters; video games, nesting.

Do you have pets? - yep--two cats: Mochi and Soba. they are brothers, and menaces, and they delight in driving me bonkers and i adore them for it.

How tall are you? - drivers licence says 6′1″ but my posture is absolute shit, so i probably pop at only 6 feet.

Favourite subject in school? - tech theatre, speech, sociology, psych. i’d love to say literature but lit classes in Indiana are a fucking joke.

Dream job? - voice actor, hands down. possibly writing for video games, or maybe researching weird shit online and getting paid for it. i’d love to write full-time but i sadly do not have the self-discipline for it.

[easyas123abc]

while some factors of misinformation could perhaps be eliminated from llm's with better information, i do want to note that (and this id imo a negative thing about llms) creators absolutely do not have full control over how it operates and anyone trying to sell you that they can is lying to you. 'hallucinations, 'lying', neither describes why an llm is often wrong in the information they give correctly because *both* presume that llm's are diverging or going away from a known truth basis occasionally, and if we just feed it correct data then it will be more accurate to eventually be absolutely correct; but thats not how llm's work, or neural network/deep learning.

Basically, llm's dont have any concept of what truth is; they cant, and we cant teach any llm that because we dont know how llm's reason. No, really, llms are for the most part black boxes (in some ways all neural networks are); as the layers and connections get more complex, the ability to trace or parse the logic that a llm used to generate content disappears; i dont mean its unlikely to difficult, i mean it is impossible for us to know *why* it spit those words out in that order; we just know that feeding more data in can increase accuracy (but it also risks increasing overfitting, which is when a model adheres too closely to its training data and cant extrapolate for new situations or adapt) edit, and we can tweak the parameters to eliminate noise or increase performance; but we never know exactly how changes correlate to changes behind the mask; and for some functions, we don't need to

Traditional computer programming is deterministic, we can go through the source code if something goes wrong and debug, we can dig through step by step and, if worst comes to worst, reset the system to fix bugs. There is no debugging capability with machine learning because we functionally have made a machine equivalent of instinct; it uses complicated math and layers and nodes in a black box to crunch statistically likely answers, and the problem is that how we evaluate it doing well is by how much it triggers our pattern recognition; this isnt so much an issue with stuff like "recognize tumors on ct scans" or "categorize birds by species" because those are questions we can answer and train the model towards specifically, and dont rely on us thinking its realistic. However, llms are functionally instinct word salad; its really good at triggering the patterns that make us think its confident and it sounds human, and thats what it was developed towards; what ISNT okay is that tech bros and cultists are scamming people by claiming it can be generalized for any field, which is why were getting these issues; the technology is not trained towards telling the truth, but now companies think it can be an everymachine

So no, companies do NOT have full control over llm's, because this isnt the same as a computer program. Machine learning is a fascinating field and there's lots of useful applications for the different techniques and models coming out, but the problems is that fools and capitalists are misusing a technology to do what it wasnt meant to do, simply because they think they can fake it until they make it, or worse, because they can run with the money by the time anyone realizes. And that's why these implementations are irresponsible, not just because they're putting in functions that are misleading, but because they likely KNOW that they can't make it generalize to the extent they promised it would and are charging ahead in hopes of making us accept an inferior and dangerous product all to make an extra buck and avoid paying people.

(sidenote, thats why professors shouldnt trust any company's claims of being able to spot chat gpt generated essays or hw without going through it themselves for obvious signs; there isnt a reliable way to detect that kind of cheating because chat gpt does not operate on consistent logic, asking chat gpt if it wrote an essay is equivalent to shouting into a canyon a question and waiting for the echo and deciding what you heard from there)

And this is why you switch to DuckDuckGo. :/

[twstunes]

A recurring concept in self-aware AUs is that the player (or their MC) possesses some form of ‘divine grace’—by interacting with and upgrading characters, the player imparts a sense of happiness, power, and so on to them. This is often used as a setup for yan stuff and similar darker works centered around obsession, typically with the characters becoming increasingly dependent on the emotional high caused by contact with the player/MC.

But what if the existence of divine grace was not so readily accepted?

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Characters: Rook, Azul, Leona, Lilia, Idia

Notes: gn Yuu, early stages of self-awareness, mostly platonic

Warnings: character-appropriate levels of stalking (Rook, Idia)

‎

✧ Very little escapes Rook’s notice, and the strikingly positive effect Yuu has on others is no exception. Like any good hunter, he spends some time stalking familiarizing himself with the Ramshackle prefect before making any final calls. He manages to work out a number of things about Yuu’s ‘grace’: only certain students (named characters) are affected, staff members don’t seem to be affected much at all, the effect is strongest on those physically near Yuu and with Yuu’s direct attention…comment trés étrange. This is certainly unfamiliar quarry for him. How exciting!

✧ He may or may not report his findings to Vil. He does care dearly for his housewarden, but considering how happy Vil has been since Yuu entered their lives…well, la grâce divine de Yuu does not seem to be a threat. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to let a sleeping dog lie, for now.

✧ It’s worth noting that despite his stalking observing, Rook doesn’t shy away from approaching his target directly. He can only appreciate Yuu’s beauté so much from a distance, after all—and of course it must be some form of beauty, for what else could evoke such emotion from the hearts of many? He may outright ask Yuu about this ‘grace’ they seem to possess, though the questions are phrased so poetically that they’re a bit hard to parse.

✧ Yuu’s euphoric effect on others is something Azul notices quickly, specifically due to how some rather high-profile students seem to gravitate towards the Ramshackle prefect. His first thought is, naturally, if it can be used to lure in more customers to the Mostro Lounge. He could rope Yuu into working some shifts, prompting their little entourage to follow along, score some customers and some free publicity at once…wait shit why does he feel so high-spirited when they’re near, why does he keep tripping over his words when they speak to him, this wasn’t supposed to happen– Jade Floyd stop snickering this is serious, no he does not have a CRUSH–

✧ Azul likes to think that he’s savvy, and he really is—but he’s also very much not equipped to handle this. The effect of Yuu’s presence is warming, empowering even, and given freely at that. It absolutely does not fit into Azul’s worldview, where anything given comes with a price attached one way or another. What does Yuu want in return for this…niceness, for lack of a better word? What are they angling for? It deeply disturbs him that he can’t divine an answer.

✧ Yuu’s grace is a gift that keeps giving, and Azul is convinced that there will be a steep price to pay for it in the end. He makes attempts at tempering it, offering discounts and the like, but it’s hard to focus on digging himself out of a perceived debt when being near Yuu keeps making him forget about it altogether.

✧ Leona has spent long enough mired in depression that the effects of Yuu’s divine grace just feel weird at first. He knows Yuu doesn’t have any magic up their sleeves—they still smell like the same magicless herbivore they were that day they stepped on his tail. So then why does he feel so much…lighter when they’re around? Less blasé about everything? Something’s off, and he’s not entirely sure he’s okay with it.

✧ He definitely has an “am i in love??” moment before shutting it down entirely. Screw Farena and how he gushes about his wife the queen; Leona might privately admit to believing in the existence of love, but he does NOT buy into any “love at first sight” junk. Besides, his senses are sharp enough that he can tell how others are similarly affected by Yuu’s presence. It’s a little complicated, how he feels about that—the irrational, possessive part of his brain is annoyed at having to “share,” but he’s overall glad that it’s an easily-observable phenomenon.

✧ After mulling it over for a while, he ultimately concludes that it isn’t a serious enough issue for him to bother stressing about. It doesn’t look like the herbivore consciously controls…whatever it is they’re doing, and their conscious actions come off as genuine attempts to help out. He might still be a little wary, but by the Seven, it’s not going to interfere with his naps.

✧ With how long Lilia has been alive, he’s definitely gone through his fair share of heart-pounding experiences—love, infatuation, adrenaline rushes, illicit substances, the whole nine yards. None of them are quite the same as whatever effect Yuu has on him, however, and it piques his interest.

✧ He’s a little concerned about how Yuu is imparting such an effect without so much as a hint of magic, but for the most part, he’s content to just let things be. Yuu doesn’t seem to want anything other than to bring out the best in others, which is hardly an ignoble goal. He might question Yuu about this ‘grace’ they seem to possess, but it serves more to sate his own curiosity than anything else. He just wants to know a little more about his new human friend, that’s all~

✧ Though he’s not one to deny himself novelties or pleasures, he’s no fool. His role as Malleus’ overseer takes priority. If he notices that Yuu’s presence is becoming literally addictive to him, he’ll start taking precautions as needed, distancing himself from Yuu. He’ll bring it up with Malleus immediately, especially if he suspects the other fae is being affected in a similar manner.

✧ Surprisingly—or perhaps unsurprisingly?—Idia is one of the least receptive to Yuu’s ‘divine grace.’ Though he can admit that he doesn’t dislike hanging around Yuu, a potent mix of paranoia and pessimism keeps him shying away. Like Leona, he’s not exactly in great emotional health, so suddenly feeling giddy and relaxed instead of gloomy and anxious throws him for a loop. He also has a mild case of ‘little hater behavior,’ being quick to find fault in anything not immediately pertinent to his interests or useful to him. Yuu qualifies as both in the beginning; even after they get acquainted, Idia’s at a loss for how he’s supposed to react to the effects of their grace. It’d be easier for him if they would just leave him alone, at least then he wouldn’t be stuck not knowing what to do…

✧ He doesn’t actually realize that Yuu’s presence has the same effect on others until he starts noticing irregularities in Ortho’s functions. The lil guy is already designed for optimum processing and performance speeds, but being around Yuu somehow makes things run…even more optimally? Ortho what’s with these energy readouts, how do you have an extra 12% charge? With all you’ve done today, you should be at 46% power maximum…what do you mean being around Yuu makes you happy? That shouldn’t affect your charge levels so greatly??

✧ Idia’s probably the most vigilant about observing how Yuu’s presence affects others once he notices, if only bc he has access to both the school’s security system and any scans Ortho runs. He’d written it off as normie behavior before, but…huh. People are acting weird around Yuu. If it winds up being something bad, it’ll be annoying to get caught off-guard by it. He’ll have to keep monitoring things, just in case…

[cozyenigma]

Hardly a Choice at All

Word Count- 353

Request?- Nope!

Summary- A what if scenario in a countless sea of what ifs. What does one detour matter when all roads lead back to the warp core anyway, right?

Tag List- @cookielover0001010 , @swag-droid , @watchoutforfrostbite

Warnings- In Space with Markiplier spoilers 

(Inspiration struck a bit with this one! I do like how over the course of marks other series the theme of choices keeps coming up. Interesting to see how it ties together with the overall story he seems to have going? Anyway- have a hypothetical scenario I thought of in anticipation for part two)

This jump was weird. Not any weirder than the rest, by any means, but still something... just to the left of what you'd expect of normal reality.

"So you're a captain this time?"

The Mark in front of you for example. He'd ditched the uniform for a suit of all things and, impractical as it was, you didn't question it. This Mark also didn't seem keen on you actually calling him Mark. You’d learned not to argue at this point.

"What a joke," he grouses.

You'd learned to shrug off that sentiment too. This Mark was hardly the first to question your leadership. It probably wouldn't be the last either.

"Tell me," he leans back in his chair, little afterimages flickering in his wake, "what do you think you're actually doing here?"

Saving your crew, you wanted to say. Fixing the damn wormhole. Ending this god damn nightmare you found yourself in.

He didn't wait for an answer. Simply swirling the glass in his hand and continuing, "So many choices... all those ruined realties. Fitting that he chose space this time."

Meeting your eyes, he raises his drink.

"You? You're like the bubble in the bottom of this glass." From where you were sitting you could hardly even see it. "Space is the ultimate empty stage, I suppose. Absolute nothingness. For all the struggling and the death and the endless choices... you might as well be standing still for all the good it will do you. All roads leading to..."

Another little swirl and the bubble dislodges, floats up and finally pops.

"Hardly even a blip."

The glass clinks as he sets it down again. You don't think he even took a sip.

"You've still got some time before the second act," he goes to stand and it feels more and more like a dismissal, "I'd say I hoped your searching was worth it but- you and I both know you'll always be back for more."

Without another word he leaves. Disappears more like. You don't have much time to parse that through before you're being flung into a different reality once more.

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

Let It Be Me

Hello all! It’s finally time to post my Novigrad Exchange fic! Big thanks to @ohnomybreadsticks and @jaskiersvalley for taking the time to organize this! <3 And of course thanks again to Socks for the beta help <3 <3 

This is for the incredibly talented @journeythroughunknownlands

Geralt overdoses on potions and the most efficient way to burn them off is with an orgasm (or two... or more). Queue Jaskier, loyal best friend who is always willing to lend a helping hand (or other body part 😏). Seasoned with a hearty sprinkle of pining.

This will be cross posted on AO3 later today. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: frottage, blow jobs, anal sex, bottom Geralt, multiple orgasms, pining, requited feelings, happy/hopeful ending

3.9k words

-

Geralt felt the potions burning their way through his veins, lighting him on fire; he had taken too many. The endrega colony was much smaller than anticipated and the fight was much shorter than it would have been otherwise, far too short of a fight to help him burn off the toxins in his blood.

His skin felt pulled tight, and he knew just what he would look like. His paler than normal complexion would be marred with black veins, his eyes would look like pots of ink, the color of ichor, he would look every bit of the monster humans thought him to be.

Fuck, if he didn’t find a good way to let off some steam and work this out of his system, this would take hours to wear off. He was out of White Honey and didn’t have any honey suckle on hand to make more, and he doubted he would be able to find any.

Looking around the clearing he was in, he quickly dismissed the idea of getting himself off. He was painfully hard in his trousers, and a quick wank would be the most efficient way to burn through the toxins, but this wasn’t the place for it. There was far too much noise in this particular forest, making him wonder what curious creatures would come to investigate. He also didn’t bring any of his… toys with him. He didn’t need them, of course, but they made things a bit more enjoyable and typically sped up the process. No, he needed to get back to town and figure something else out. It was unlikely he would be able to find a whore willing to lay with him, no matter the coin offered, and he really didn’t have much to offer.

He could always try to sleep through it or take care of himself back in his room where his toys were, though that would mean making his way through the inn looking like he did, if the innkeep would even let him up to his room.

Sighing and deciding that he really had no good option, he turned, his trophies in hand, and began the trek through the dense trees back to town.

-

Geralt really should have stayed in the forest. He had known better but ignored the small voice in the back of his head trying to talk sense into him. Instead, he allowed himself to return to town despite everything he ever learned at Kaer Morhen, despite every bit of real-life experience reminding him that exposing himself to humans in this state was an awful idea.

If the toxins in his blood felt like fire, the horrified stares were even worse, like daggers stabbing into his already sensitive skin.

Thankfully, he managed to get to the inn without incident, despite the stares, despite the hatred and fear he could smell emanating from everyone he passed. And despite the shocking waves of pain and pleasure shooting through him as he walked with his erection straining against his trousers. The silence in the inn was unsettling though, all speech coming to a halt as he stepped through the door, and he had to push down a wave of embarrassment, knowing that everyone would be able to see his erection. Silence, though, meant he wasn’t being kicked out and allowed him to make his way up the stairs and to his room.

His room that he was sharing with Jaskier.

Fuck.

He hadn’t thought about it until he opened the door, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Jaskier’s presence had become such a normal and routine part of his life that he hadn’t even thought about the bard being there, about having to deal with Jaskier in this state.

There was no way he would be able to stay in the room like this. He had to fight back his arousal for the bard in the best of times, and this couldn’t be called the best of anything. The bard’s scent was already one that intoxicated him, and now with all of his senses heightened, there would be no way he could stay in the room with him, it would be pure torture if he tried. Quickly making up his mind as Jaskier stared at him in surprise, Geralt stomped across the room to grab his bag of toys, there was no chance he would be able to ride this out with Jaskier not even ten feet away, smelling and looking the way he did.

Geralt could hear Jaskier’s voice clearly, though his racing mind couldn’t parse out the words. He could smell the bard’s confusion, hear it in the tone of his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to even grunt out an explanation as he made his way back to the door. All Geralt could focus on was the sudden need to go back out to the woods and take care of himself. It had been a long while since he had last gotten the opportunity to use some of his favorite toys, so he might as well make the best of an awful situation.

As he reached for the knob on the door, he felt a sudden tug on the bag in his hand and he spun around just as it ripped, the contents spilling on the floor. Geralt couldn’t think of a time in which he had more desperately wished it was true what they say about witchers, that they felt no emotions. Geralt let out a frustrated growl, the absolute mortification within him warring with the anger he was feeling at Jaskier for trying to stop him just led to more desperation for a fix to his situation. He had just wanted to escape the inn and take care of himself, solve the problem in the relative privacy of the woods, but no, nothing ever went that simply for him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was tentative in a way that it normally wasn’t, far more hesitant than the rather direct bard ever bothered being. Geralt’s eyes snapped up to meet Jaskier’s as the witcher willed himself to remain calm. He was sure his face would be turning red from embarrassment if it wasn’t for the poison affecting his complexion and he sent off a silent thanks to whoever was listening that at least he was spared from that.

“Geralt? Are you okay?”

Geralt wasn’t sure he understood what Jaskier was asking. He had expected Jaskier to be more afraid of him in this state, having never seen his reaction to taking potions before, and far more concerned by the toys now scattered across the floor, rather than if he was okay.

“Fine,” he finally grunted out, hoping Jaskier would stop looking at him with such concern. It wasn’t a look that he needed directed at him, he would be fine if he could just leave.

“Fine?” Jaskier squeaked, “You don’t look fine! You look like you’re dying! Geralt, are you poisoned? Are you dying? Can I help? What do I need to do?”

Taking a deep breath and nearly choking on the scent of the bard, even more overwhelming this close, Geralt finally managed to motion to the floor, littered with his rather extensive collection, “Potions. Those… help.” There was no way he would be able to say more, not about this subject, not in his current state. Possibly not ever. 

He watched as Jaskier stared at him consideringly before looking down at the floor, and then back up at Geralt. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, but Geralt didn’t know how to explain it any better.

Jaskier reached up, touching at Geralt’s face hesitantly, “This is because of your potions?” Geralt nodded, leaning into the touch. It was just this side of too much but it felt so good.

Humming softly, Jaskier glanced back at the floor, “And those… help?”

Geralt nodded again, still relishing in the contact of Jaskier’s hand pressing gently against his face. There were so many feelings thrumming through him, embarrassment and worry and arousal but Jaskier’s touch seemed to almost calm them. Unfortunately, it seemed that it couldn’t last and Jaskier pulled away, making Geralt whimper at the loss.

“How do they help?” Jaskier asked as he knelt down in front of Geralt. The witcher watched in horror as Jaskier meticulously gathered the contents of the now destroyed bag before placing them on the small table in their room. “Is it something about the toys themselves? Or is it just the… result.”

Geralt could feel his throat closing up as he choked out, “Result.”

Watching Geralt closely, Jaskier made his way back across the room, concern still written clearly across his features, “Where were you going?”

“Woods.”

“Do you… normally take care of this in the woods?”

“Yes,” Geralt felt just as weak as his voice sounded suddenly, he felt exposed like a raw nerve and it hurt.

“Can I help you?”

Geralt felt his entire body seize up as his mind slowly caught up with Jaskier’s question. Letting out a whine, he found himself reaching out for Jaskier before he even knew what he was doing, before he had even made a conscious decision.

Jaskier stepped closer, allowing himself to be wrapped in Geralt’s arms as the witcher buried his face in Jaskier’s neck. The bard smelled so fucking good and Geralt wanted this so badly, had wanted it for years. But Jaskier didn’t, surely. Geralt should let go.

But Jaskier’s hands were suddenly trailing up and down Geralt’s back comfortingly, and Geralt couldn’t let go, it felt amazing, like nothing he had ever allowed himself to experience before, and he couldn’t give it up. With any luck, the bard wouldn’t hate him for his actions tomorrow.

Inhaling deeply and letting the bard’s scent wash over him, Geralt made up his mind. He would get whatever he could from Jaskier tonight and then spend the rest of his life making it up to the bard.

He felt Jaskier start to pull back and he only gripped harder, clenching Jaskier’s doublet in his hands. Jaskier made a soft sound, “Hey, it’s okay, but we should take this over to the bed, okay?”

Geralt could hear the logic in Jaskier’s words, but he didn’t want to let go. Instead, he shuffled forward slowly, his face still buried in Jaskier’s neck, until he could feel the impact as the back of Jaskier’s knees hit the mattress. He urged Jaskier back on the bed, settling himself into Jaskier’s side, still hiding his face.

Jaskier’s hands began running through Geralt’s hair, making the witcher let out a purr and Jaskier chuckle, “I always knew you liked your hair played with. Is this what you want, darling? To lay here and cuddle until you feel better? Or do you want more?” Geralt didn’t think he would ever want to let go, but he needed more. As nice as this felt, he could still feel his cock, hard and heavy and uncomfortably pressed against his pants.

Whispering his answer, Geralt practically begged for more.

Suddenly, Geralt found himself on his back, Jaskier hovering over him. The bard’s scent was now tinged heavily with his own arousal and Geralt couldn’t hold back another whine as he bucked his hips, seeking friction. Jaskier smirked down at him, lowering his body until they were pressed against each other. Geralt could feel Jaskier’s own hardness pressed against his and he groaned out at the sensation. How many nights had he dreamed of this same thing? Of being pressed up underneath Jaskier, desperate for pleasure to be wrung from him, at the mercy of Jaskier’s talented hands.

And mouth.

Gods, he’d had so many fantasies about the bard’s mouth, taking him apart, bringing him damn near to tears. And now here he was, with all of those fantasies in arms reach. His lust had completely fogged his brain, completely overpowering the potion-induced fire in his veins, replacing it with an even more powerful burn.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jaskier asked, his voice low.

All Geralt could do was nod, his hips still grinding up desperately into Jaskier’s. The fire was raging inside him now, completely overwhelming him. He wasn’t sure exactly how Jaskier managed to get both of their clothes off, but the next thing he knew they were pressed together, skin to skin. Geralt was crying out from the sensations, both too much and not enough, as Jaskier kept talking to him. The whispered words doused the fire just for a moment until Jaskier’s lips chased his words, reigniting the fire to burn even brighter. Geralt had never understood poets when they said they had found themselves out of their mind with pleasure but then again, he had never experienced this.

He was unbelievably hard, his cock ached and throbbed where it lay, pressed between him and Jaskier. It could have been seconds or hours that he spent rocking against Jaskier for friction before he found himself so very close to the edge of orgasm.

Jaskier licked a stripe up Geralt’s neck to nip at his ear, “That’s right, Geralt, take what you need. You look so beautiful like this, just take what you need.” It was Jaskier’s words, whispered like a filthy secret in his ear, that finally tipped him over just as he asked, “Are you going to cum for me?”

Geralt let out a mewl as his body shook under Jaskier, his orgasm hot and intense, feeling as though it may never end. He felt hazy almost, the once intense fire settling down to a manageable smolder even as Jaskier trailed kisses down his body. Watching closely, Geralt found himself enraptured at the man above him, groaning as Jaskier continued down, licking up Geralt’s spend as he went. 

“Fuck, Jask,” he gasped out as the bard continued on, his tongue lapping at Geralt’s still hard cock.

The bard smirked, “Ready for another round so soon?”

“The… potions. They keep me… excited.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to work them out of your system.”

Any response Geralt might have thought of was lost as Jaskier promptly wrapped his lips around the head of Geralt’s cock. Geralt could barely stop himself from thrusting forward, fucking into Jaskier’s mouth. It looks so pretty, stretched obscenely around Geralt as he bobbed up and down.

Geralt gasped as he felt a finger probing at his hole, circling it slowly, applying a slight pressure but never pushing in. Just as suddenly as the contact had started, it stopped, Jaskier pulling his mouth away as well, making him keen, his arms already reaching toward the bard, desperate. “It’s okay, darling. Let me just get some oil, okay? This will be much more enjoyable that way.”

Oil. Right. If he was going to be fucked, then oil would make it better. That made perfect sense to Geralt, but still he followed Jaskier’s form greedily and he hurried over to the odds and ends now strewn across the table in their room, picking up a small bottle, and heading back over to the bed, a small smile on his face as he positioned himself between Geralt’s legs.

Geralt made a satisfied noise as Jaskier set a hand on his thigh, stroking up and down, “Is this what you want darling, what you need? Want me to fuck you?”

“Please.” The plea was ripped from Geralt’s throat almost as if it weren’t him speaking. But it was him and he had never before felt so desperate. He wanted Jaskier fucking into him, wanted their bodies writhing together. He wanted the best kind of fire back, lust and passion burning his veins as he looked into Jaskier’s eyes. Fuck.

Thankfully, Jaskier needed nothing more from Geralt, and wasted no time, slicking his fingers and going back to toying with him, “Look at you, so needy for this, I bet I could slip right into you with no prep.”

Fuck, Geralt couldn’t help but groan, “Please, anything, please.”

“Shh it’s okay, soon. I want to make this good for you,” Jaskier’s voice was soft as he leaned forward, locking his lips with Geralt’s as he pushed a finger inside. He hadn’t been wrong, Geralt took the finger easily, more than ready for the feeling. Rocking his hips, Geralt searched for more.

Pulling back and smiling at Geralt, Jaskier’s eyes crinkled up at the corners in the way that always made Geralt want to smile with him. “Are you feeling good? Ready for more?”

Geralt tried to speak, he really did, but all that came out was a needy sound as he ground down on Jaskier’s hand.

“I’ve got you, darling, I’ve got you.” Soon after, Jaskier was pressing another finger inside him, thrusting in and out and it was so good Geralt could do nothing but pant and whine as he moved in time with Jaskier, seeking his own pleasure.

It was so good but it was still just a tease of what was to come.

“Jaskier, please, fuck. Fuck me.”

“Okay, just one last thing.” Before Geralt could even register the sentence, Jaskier had leaned down, wrapping his lips around Geralt’s cock again, just as he curled his fingers, pressing against that spot inside him.

Geralt cried out, his body shaking as he came so hard he saw stars. Relaxing back onto the bed, Geralt whimpered helplessly as Jaskier released him, his fingers slipping from his hole.

“Do you still want more?”

Opening his eyes was a struggle but he managed after a moment, shooting a glare at Jaskier, “Fuck me.”

Jaskier chuckled, “Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it, then.”

Geralt watched in a daze as Jaskier pumped his own cock, covering it with slick. The man was large and it would certainly be a stretch. His own cock was already hard again, twitching as he thought about how good that would feel inside of him. Moving forward, Jaskier lined up and began to push in, gasping as he did so.

It had been so long since Geralt had been fucked. Typically when he was out wandering the continent, all he had with him to relieve this particular want was his bag of toys, and fuck it felt so much better when it was the real thing.

Geralt watched as Jaskier sunk into him, their hips meeting softly as Jaskier panted above him. The stretch was amazing, just the right amount of pressure to make it overwhelmingly good. Geralt tried to stay still, he did, but after a while he had to move. The roll of his hips pulled a grunt from Jaskier as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Just a moment, fuck, you’re tight.” Jaskier was breathless, gasping out his words, sweat beading on his brow.

Geralt had never seen him look more amazing.

Jaskier began thrusting in and out of him slowly, the burn of the stretch and the feeling of fullness sending sparks of pleasure through Geralt. It wasn’t long before Jaskier sped up, shifting more until finally, he moved just right, drawing a yelp out of Geralt as he hit his prostate. A smirk lit up Jaskier’s face as he pulled out and thrust back in, his aim precise as he once again hit that same spot again and again. The bard kept going, sending Geralt into a frenzy of begging and crying out. The fingers of Geralt’s hand were threaded with Jaskier’s, held down above his head. Geralt’s other hand was gripping at Jaskier’s back, his fingers digging into the soft skin as Jaskier kept thrusting.

“Won't- last,” Jaskier gasped, his free hand coming up to wrap around Geralt’s cock.

It was likely only seconds but it felt like hours when finally he felt himself falling again, his orgasm rushing through him, his body relaxing into a boneless mess as Jaskier thrust once, twice more, freezing his motions and shaking as he spent inside of Geralt, finally collapsing on top of him.

“I don’t know if I can move,” Jaskier said, his voice muffled from where he had buried his head in Geralt’s chest.

“Mmm. Don’t.”

“Okay.”

And then Geralt was asleep.

-

The first thing Geralt noticed was how dry his mouth was. It wasn’t unusual, not after a hunt. His potions would have that effect on him most of the time, particularly if he struggled with burning them off. He went to shift, suddenly noticing the heavy weight on top of him. Opening his eyes, Geralt couldn’t see anything but a mop of brown hair. Inhaling deeply as he tried to gain awareness of his surroundings, he was assaulted with the scent of Jaskier and himself and sex.

Oh fuck.

Geralt shifted slightly under Jaskier, making the bard startle awake on top of him. Jaskier seemed to gain awareness quickly, rolling off of Geralt quickly, his cheeks blooming a brilliant red on his otherwise pale face.

“Ah,” Jaskier cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the room, “good morning. I trust you’re feeling better.”

Geralt nodded, sitting up and reaching for the pitcher beside the bed, drinking straight from it. He felt some of the water spill out, dripping down his naked chest, but paid it no mind as he tried to wash the dryness from his throat.

Fuck. He really came back to the inn with potions burning through him and let himself fuck Jaskier. Well, let himself be fucked by Jaskier. Well… begged to be fucked by Jaskier.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Putting down the now empty pitcher, Geralt shot a furtive look at Jaskier, feeling the guilt pooling in his stomach. Jaskier was loyal to a fault, something Geralt had taken for granted for so long, and now here he was, after a night of going out of his way doing something he had no interest in doing, looking at Geralt with nothing but concern for the witcher. Jaskier was too good for Geralt, he didn’t deserve to have to deal with situations like this.

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier looked taken aback, “For what?”

“Making you feel like you had to help me last night. I appreciate it but… I’m sorry.”

“I… Geralt I offered to help. I never felt obligated and you never did anything to make me.”

It couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it? Geralt’s needs had been far more than anyone could be expected to help with. Jaskier should have sent him on his way and spared himself the trouble.

“Geralt?” Jaskier said softly, moving closer and reaching up to cup Geralt’s cheek, “Thank you for trusting me with this. I’m glad I could help you.”

Whether it was the earnest sound of Jaskier’s voice or maybe just Geralt’s need to believe that someone really did want to be there for him, he was unsure. All he knew was that he never wanted to break Jaskier’s gaze. His eyes were so incredibly blue, bright pools of crystal clear water begging for someone to dive in and Geralt found himself ready to jump. 

Before he noticed what was happening, Geralt had already leaned into Jaskier, making his eyes widen, surprise written across his face. But he didn’t pull back. No, Jaskier’s eyes flicked down to Geralt’s lips before once again meeting Geralt’s gaze. Geralt wasn’t sure if it was him or Jaskier that initiated the all encompassing kiss that followed, all he knew was it was something he had wanted for so long and felt so right.

Maybe, next time potions were burning through his veins and he wanted to crawl out of his skin, Jaskier would meet him and apply this affection like a balm, soothing Geralt in a way he had never before experienced. Maybe from this moment forward, he wouldn’t wait for Jaskier to realize he deserved better and move on. Maybe, just maybe, Geralt had really found happiness.

-

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B won the last round and may I say, a few of the asks I got when after presenting the possibility of biting people were absolutely feral. Can't say I don't love it though.

~

"Wait wait wait wait..." Parsley's expression was filled with bewilderment until he placed his marker down on the edge of the whiteboard, pacing around in a circle with his hands held out in surrender, stopping to face you a few steps away with a surprised smile. "You don't know?!"

"No! And if I have to ask one more time, I'm gonna start biting people." That was a promise, not a threat, but at least Parsley seemed to take you seriously.

"Well, that makes this way easier! The way you'd been dodging the question all month everyone thought you were just being stubborn!"

"Well, I'm not, not on purpose at least. So what is this all about?"

"Y/n, we all just wanted to know when your-"

"Hey, Parse!" You both jumped as the door swung open and Jimothan leaned inside, squinting at the darkness until his eyes landed on Parsley. "Need you out here; Gillis and Borbra have never tossed anybody in the air before and if we're gonna do it, knowing those two, I need to make sure they know how to without hitting the ceiling." There was a small awkward silence as Parsley seemed to shrink in on himself and Jimothan finally noticed you, nodding hello. "Oh, heya, kid." He turned back to Parsley, gripping him by the back of the collar and yanking him out the door. "Let's go."

"S-sorry, Y/n!" Parsley managed to stammer before he disappeared and you were left sitting without answers once again.

"Son of a-" You silently cursed, stopping yourself halfway to take a deep breath.

"Alright, kid!" Another startling entrance as the door was kicked open, this time entirely, and standing in the doorway were none other than Kamal and Boris once again. "No more Mr. Nice Guy."

"Oh great, you guys are back..." You rolled your eyes.

"Back with a vengeance, so you better start talking." Kamal quickly closed the space between you, and you only raised a brow at him. "We're done messing around, so fess up." He said, placing a hand on the backrest of your chair and tilting it back slightly. "O-or else... yeah!" He seemed to be threatening you, but you couldn't buy it if you tried. The attitude was so played up it was funny and you didn't miss the way his own scowl seemed to have to fight twitching up into a smile at that last line, like he didn't buy it himself or expect you to either.

"Or else what? I'll be sleepin' with the fishes?" You mocked him in your best Brooklyn accent, and he raised both brows at you.

"You're awfully cocky for someone in your position." There it was again, that played-up attitude and poorly hidden smile. But before you could snap back again, you were pulled back and up into the air. Leaving Kamal to fall forward in the process since he had been leaning against the chair.

Boris had quite literally picked you up, holding your chair and subsequently you, bridal style protectively. "Kamal, you must calm down! You are scaring them!" He really wasn't. Boris looked down at you. "It ees okay now, I will not let him hurt you." He said solemnly, now rocking your chair gently back and forth.

"Boris, what are you doing?" Kamal asked but was clearly amused as he picked himself up and brushed himself off

"Shhh!" He looked at kamal, holding a finger to his mouth. "I am being the good cop!" He whispered, but it was more than loud enough for you to hear as he was literally holding you. "You are safe now." He spoke to you once again and you were seriously beginning to contemplate where you went wrong in life to have ended up in a situation this strange.

"Well, that's certainly one way to do it. You were right though, being bad cop is hard." Kamal admitted.

"See?! I told you, it is no fun at all!" Boris exclaimed. "I like this much better." He said, hugging you to his chest, as best he could at least with you being tied to a chair and all.

"Well, why don't we both be good cop then?" Kamal asked, resting his hands on his hips.

"Good idea!" Boris beamed at that idea, smiling at you before finally setting you back down. Before they returned to their "interrogation" however they quickly huddled together, whispering among themselves a few feet away. You couldn't hear what they were saying but after a few seconds you could see Boris nod as well as make out a few hums of affirmation until they finally broke it up, immediately coming up on either side of you.

They each wore a big, goofy grin as Boris patted you on the head and Kamal wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

"Hello! :-)"

"Hey there, little buddy, how ya doin'?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A: "Not too great unfortunately, seeing as I'm, you know; TIED TO A CHAIR!"

B: *Spiteful Silence* (Give them the silent treatment)

C: *Bite Kamal*

D: ~Custom response~

E: *Bite Boris*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~