#parrot writes

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How plausible sentence generators are changing the bullshit wars

This Friday (September 8) at 10hPT/17hUK, I'm livestreaming "How To Dismantle the Internet" with Intelligence Squared.

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

In my latest Locus Magazine column, "Plausible Sentence Generators," I describe how I unwittingly came to use – and even be impressed by – an AI chatbot – and what this means for a specialized, highly salient form of writing, namely, "bullshit":

https://locusmag.com/2023/09/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-plausible-sentence-generators/

Here's what happened: I got stranded at JFK due to heavy weather and an air-traffic control tower fire that locked down every westbound flight on the east coast. The American Airlines agent told me to try going standby the next morning, and advised that if I booked a hotel and saved my taxi receipts, I would get reimbursed when I got home to LA.

But when I got home, the airline's reps told me they would absolutely not reimburse me, that this was their policy, and they didn't care that their representative had promised they'd make me whole. This was so frustrating that I decided to take the airline to small claims court: I'm no lawyer, but I know that a contract takes place when an offer is made and accepted, and so I had a contract, and AA was violating it, and stiffing me for over $400.

The problem was that I didn't know anything about filing a small claim. I've been ripped off by lots of large American businesses, but none had pissed me off enough to sue – until American broke its contract with me.

So I googled it. I found a website that gave step-by-step instructions, starting with sending a "final demand" letter to the airline's business office. They offered to help me write the letter, and so I clicked and I typed and I wrote a pretty stern legal letter.

Now, I'm not a lawyer, but I have worked for a campaigning law-firm for over 20 years, and I've spent the same amount of time writing about the sins of the rich and powerful. I've seen a lot of threats, both those received by our clients and sent to me.

I've been threatened by everyone from Gwyneth Paltrow to Ralph Lauren to the Sacklers. I've been threatened by lawyers representing the billionaire who owned NSOG roup, the notoroious cyber arms-dealer. I even got a series of vicious, baseless threats from lawyers representing LAX's private terminal.

So I know a thing or two about writing a legal threat! I gave it a good effort and then submitted the form, and got a message asking me to wait for a minute or two. A couple minutes later, the form returned a new version of my letter, expanded and augmented. Now, my letter was a little scary – but this version was bowel-looseningly terrifying.

I had unwittingly used a chatbot. The website had fed my letter to a Large Language Model, likely ChatGPT, with a prompt like, "Make this into an aggressive, bullying legal threat." The chatbot obliged.

I don't think much of LLMs. After you get past the initial party trick of getting something like, "instructions for removing a grilled-cheese sandwich from a VCR in the style of the King James Bible," the novelty wears thin:

https://www.emergentmind.com/posts/write-a-biblical-verse-in-the-style-of-the-king-james

Yes, science fiction magazines are inundated with LLM-written short stories, but the problem there isn't merely the overwhelming quantity of machine-generated stories – it's also that they suck. They're bad stories:

https://www.npr.org/2023/02/24/1159286436/ai-chatbot-chatgpt-magazine-clarkesworld-artificial-intelligence

LLMs generate naturalistic prose. This is an impressive technical feat, and the details are genuinely fascinating. This series by Ben Levinstein is a must-read peek under the hood:

https://benlevinstein.substack.com/p/how-to-think-about-large-language

But "naturalistic prose" isn't necessarily good prose. A lot of naturalistic language is awful. In particular, legal documents are fucking terrible. Lawyers affect a stilted, stylized language that is both officious and obfuscated.

The LLM I accidentally used to rewrite my legal threat transmuted my own prose into something that reads like it was written by a $600/hour paralegal working for a $1500/hour partner at a white-show law-firm. As such, it sends a signal: "The person who commissioned this letter is so angry at you that they are willing to spend $600 to get you to cough up the $400 you owe them. Moreover, they are so well-resourced that they can afford to pursue this claim beyond any rational economic basis."

Let's be clear here: these kinds of lawyer letters aren't good writing; they're a highly specific form of bad writing. The point of this letter isn't to parse the text, it's to send a signal. If the letter was well-written, it wouldn't send the right signal. For the letter to work, it has to read like it was written by someone whose prose-sense was irreparably damaged by a legal education.

Here's the thing: the fact that an LLM can manufacture this once-expensive signal for free means that the signal's meaning will shortly change, forever. Once companies realize that this kind of letter can be generated on demand, it will cease to mean, "You are dealing with a furious, vindictive rich person." It will come to mean, "You are dealing with someone who knows how to type 'generate legal threat' into a search box."

Legal threat letters are in a class of language formally called "bullshit":

https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691122946/on-bullshit

LLMs may not be good at generating science fiction short stories, but they're excellent at generating bullshit. For example, a university prof friend of mine admits that they and all their colleagues are now writing grad student recommendation letters by feeding a few bullet points to an LLM, which inflates them with bullshit, adding puffery to swell those bullet points into lengthy paragraphs.

Naturally, the next stage is that profs on the receiving end of these recommendation letters will ask another LLM to summarize them by reducing them to a few bullet points. This is next-level bullshit: a few easily-grasped points are turned into a florid sheet of nonsense, which is then reconverted into a few bullet-points again, though these may only be tangentially related to the original.

What comes next? The reference letter becomes a useless signal. It goes from being a thing that a prof has to really believe in you to produce, whose mere existence is thus significant, to a thing that can be produced with the click of a button, and then it signifies nothing.

We've been through this before. It used to be that sending a letter to your legislative representative meant a lot. Then, automated internet forms produced by activists like me made it far easier to send those letters and lawmakers stopped taking them so seriously. So we created automatic dialers to let you phone your lawmakers, this being another once-powerful signal. Lowering the cost of making the phone call inevitably made the phone call mean less.

Today, we are in a war over signals. The actors and writers who've trudged through the heat-dome up and down the sidewalks in front of the studios in my neighborhood are sending a very powerful signal. The fact that they're fighting to prevent their industry from being enshittified by plausible sentence generators that can produce bullshit on demand makes their fight especially important.

Chatbots are the nuclear weapons of the bullshit wars. Want to generate 2,000 words of nonsense about "the first time I ate an egg," to run overtop of an omelet recipe you're hoping to make the number one Google result? ChatGPT has you covered. Want to generate fake complaints or fake positive reviews? The Stochastic Parrot will produce 'em all day long.

As I wrote for Locus: "None of this prose is good, none of it is really socially useful, but there’s demand for it. Ironically, the more bullshit there is, the more bullshit filters there are, and this requires still more bullshit to overcome it."

Meanwhile, AA still hasn't answered my letter, and to be honest, I'm so sick of bullshit I can't be bothered to sue them anymore. I suppose that's what they were counting on.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/07/govern-yourself-accordingly/#robolawyers

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[miiicrobat]

i am not immune to dog eared wifies

this ep was so... <>

[jjafterdark]

Princess

Dragon / Human NSFW

I had two hearts but the second one hasn’t worked for centuries. The scar over the top of it is gone, my skin shed many times over, but there’s a spearhead in there somewhere, rattling around with the other ghosts. I still haven’t seen all of the knight from last month. That’s what happens when you swallow plate armor. You have to count out all the pieces and wait. 

More knights will come, but hopefully not in metal. Leather sits easier on the stomach.

“Again,” she says, and I cover her in a blanket of unmarked scales. Somehow she finds it anyway—the place where my second heart used to beat. I tire more easily without it, flying is harder, but when she covers it with her palm I swear I can feel it trembling. 

Rocking slit to slit with her, you would never know how much of me she can hold. It looks like nothing from the outside, just two slippery seams glistening wetly together, but there's a tiny flash of pink on the back tilt, when her hips angle slightly away. You can see me nestled in there if you look closely, because she has taken everything.

The knights call her their princess. They promise to protect her, to save her. 

“Yes, of course they do,” she answers, throwing her arm over her head and drawing me deeper. “They always want to save us from our desire.”

When I spill into her, you can’t see that from the outside, either. I have her plugged like a bottle of sweet honey wine, my knot swollen and covetous. Her fingers tighten along the hinge of my jaw and she pulls our foreheads together, shuddering and arching and still trying to take more, even as I flood her.

The knights call her their princess, but she can’t be that. Princesses don’t rule anything and she rules all of me.

[bravo4iscool]

What's up bestieeeee <3

I saw your call for request and ideas and I SHALL PROVIDE.

How would the TF141 react to getting a pet (feel free to choose what kind of pet, depending what pet person you think they are!)

And how would they behave as a pet parent? 👀

If you don't write for all of them, just do the ones you feel like!!

Have a lovely night 🩷

~ Fi 🐝

AHHH THANKS FOR THIS REQUEST!!! i love it very much🤭

i hope you like the kind of animals i gave them hahah (i’m sorry it’s so short)

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

simon “ghost” riley

“come on boy,” simon urged and patted the spot beside him on the couch. “c’mere.” riley raised his head and looked at his owner. he tilted his head and blinked.

“d’nt look a’me that way,” simon laughed and shook his head. “c’mere boy.” he patted the spot on the couch again and this time the shepherd dog complied and raised to his feet.

he jumped onto the couch and set his head on simon’s lap. “atta boy,” the man mumbled and started crawling him behind his ears. “you as lazy as i’m, huh?” simon smirked as he fumbled with the tv remote to put the game on.

once the tv was on and the game running simon laid his head back and sighed. this morning he woke up—petless—and now he had a furball on his couch, more precisely, half on his lap and life couldn’t be better.

he wasn’t alone anymore, he had company—one who didn’t annoy the shit outta him like johnny—and he had someone to talk to, even if riley wasn’t human. it definitely felt better to talk to a dog than to a wall.

johnny “soap” mactavish

“y’pissin’ with me ri’now johnny, aren’t ya?” simon blinked, staring at the animal in front of him.

“absolutely not, me frend,” soap grinned, proudly standing beside his parrot. “meet ghoapie. he’s me parrot.”

simon massaged his temple a took a deep breath. “a parrot? with the name ghoapie?” the brit stared at his best friend, not knowing what the hell to think right now. he knew johnny was…weird but not this weird.

“yea.” pride was clear in soap’s voice and his grin stayed on his face even tho simon looked like he wanted to jump through a window and get himself killed.

“imma kill y’johnny. i’m actually gon’ kill ya.”

soap faked a hurt look and grabbed his chest in a dramatic manner. “why’d ye do that?”

simon’s eyes widen and he pointed at the bird. “because ya got yourself a fuckin’ parrot! how d’ya think this gon’ work out?”

soap frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “ye have a dog. why can’t i have a parrot?”

simon opened his mouth to answer but then the parrot interrupted. “ye why,” he croaked, gaining an annoyed look from simon.

kyle “gaz” garrick

“oh won’t you look at yourself,” gaz cooed as he crawled the little kittens chin, keeping her close to his chest. “oh you’re just the cutest.”

gaz sat down on his couch and carefully sat the kitten down beside him. then he looked at him. “well, what am i gonna name you, huh?”

he started crawling the kitten again, smiling when it started to purr. it looked up at gaz, its eyes fixated on the dog tags around his neck.

then, with a leap it jumped upon his chest and its claws started to toy with said dog tags around gaz’s neck. he laughed and gently grabbed it to pull it away. “i know they‘re called dog tags but they‘re not real dogs, y‘know?“ he looked at the little kitten and tilted his head. “maybe that‘s what i should call ya. you wanna be called tags?“

the name sounded stupid, it really did but it also had a certain ring to it, gaz thought. but the kitten started reaching out for his dog tags again and another laugh escaped him. “that‘s a final thing then! welcome home tags!“ gaz set tags down and reached for the real dog tags around his neck.

the kitten started reaching for it again and jumped around when gaz started to play with the tags. he held them in his hand, swinging them around in the air until the little kitten was able to catch them.

captain john price

“finished,“ the captain mumbled as he took a step back. the aquarium was all set up and now only the inhabitant was missing. he turned around and grabbed the small box which stood on his desk. “time to give ya a new home little fella.“ he opened the box and carefully lowered it into the aquarium to set the fish inside free.

then suddenly his door busted open and soap stalked in. „ye know i thought ghost was pissin‘ with me when he told me ye got a goldfish—“ his eyes feel onto the aquarium. “—but i guess he was right…“

“hello to you too soap,“ price grumbled and pulled his hand back. he wiped it dry on his shirt and set the box down on his desk again. “and yes, i did get a goldfish.“

soap blinked at his captain, then at the goldfish happily swimming around in his new home. “i always thought ye was a dog person. a goldfish is…a weird choice.“

price huffed, “says the one who got a parrot.“ soap wanted to shoot something back but then simon walked in and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“i told ya i was right. y‘know my ears may not be t‘best anymore but my eyes work j‘st fine.“ there was a hint of offence in his voice as he looked at soap, raising one eyebrow.

soap rolled his eyes and mumbled, “ye were right.“

simon grinned under his mask, “thanks.“

[starbanmk]

Havoc Duo is NOT dead and they are in fact attending highschool :3

[tea-cat-arts]

"Madam Yu would be a Karen/ treat minimum wage employees like shit-" literally the only servant she's shown abusing is Wei Wuxian (and that's because he's the victim of a proxy war between her and Jiang Fengmian around the idea of him being adopted into the family, not because of his class). Madam Yu's two handmaid's love and respect her, and Madam Yu actually defends them when Wang Lingjiao tries being a Karen to them. She also tells Wang Lingjiao to fuck off when she demands the Jiang servants bring her tea.

Also, Karens are unpleasant women, but not all unpleasant women are Karens. That term is about entitlement and being unreasonable (and often times, racist). Madam Yu is mean and unpleasant to talk to, but she keeps most of her interactions brief and probably doesn't have the time or mental energy to be a Karen or hold a grudge that long. If you want an actual example of a Karen in mdzs, Wang Lingjiao is right there

[irrealisms]

heartscord exchange drabble for @fitmc ! i did a bit of lifesteal homestuck au. enjoy :3

Spoke’s the first to go god tier. Parrot’s not sure if he figured it out himself or if it’s the horrorterrors that have been whispering in his ear; either way, it doesn’t really matter. Spoke bounces around, happy as anything, in his red pajamas, and it doesn’t take long for people to follow him. Anything for an edge. Parrot needs that edge. He sits on his quest bed and pulls out his phone instead of his sword.

-- twiceArinae [TA] began trolling articulatedCalamity [AC] at 17:10 -- TA: does it hurt? AC: it's like falling asleep.

Spoke was lying. It hurts.

[viveela]

Oh wow. Does he know...

Start | Next | Previous

[skyward-floored]

IAU prompt- Sky and Aryll (and Sun, if you like) need some fluff I think 🥺

They do indeed, I agree. I’ll admit it actually took me a bit to think of some fluff for them— I’m too used to angst for Sky lol. But I think I managed some fluff, I hope you enjoy!

Requests are closed right now, I’m just finishing up old ones!

————————————————————

Sky adjusted his daughter on his lap, her hands grabbing excitedly at the pages of the book he was trying to read to her. Aryll wasn’t sitting still long enough for him to get any of the story out though, so he was just looking at the pictures with her in their backyard, enjoying the warm afternoon.

“Okay, and what’s this one, Aryll?” Sky asked, and Aryll pointed excitedly at the page of the book.

“Bir! Bir!”

“That’s right, it’s a bird! This one is a chickadee,” Sky said, pointing at the picture. “They make sounds kind of like their name. Chick a dee dee dee.”

“Dee!”

“Exactly,” Sky chuckled, and Aryll tugged at the page, wanting to go on to the next one. Sky flipped it for her, and Aryll pointed at the next bird.

“E-ull!”

“Yep, that’s a seagull,” Sky said, and Aryll placed her hand on the picture of the bird’s outstretched wing.

She admired it for a minute, then tugged on the page, wanting her father to turn it. He did, and Aryll squealed at the sight of the red bird on the page.

“Papa!”

Sky laughed and shook his head, kissing Aryll’s head. “No pumpkin, that’s a cardinal. Our feathers are mostly the same color, but they don’t have any white or other colors on their wings, see? Just red.”

Aryll giggled, not really understanding the explanation, but that was okay. She looked at the picture for a minute, then up at Sky, a hopeful look on her face.

“Wi?”

“You want to see my wings?” Sky asked.

Aryll bounced in his lap. “Wi! Wi wi wi wi!”

Sky laughed. “Okay, okay! Here—”

Sky gave a cautious glance around the yard— the area was blocked fairly well with trees and bushes, but he still wasn’t going to just pop his wings out without making sure no one was around first. Nobody seemed to be out though, and satisfied they were alone, Sky pulled the back of his shirt up, since it wasn’t one of the ones he owned that had slits cut in the back.

He extended his wings out for Aryll, and she squealed, standing up on his lap and looking over his shoulder at his feathers. Her fingers ran along the edges, ruffling a few feathers, but Sky would fix them later.

“Pre-ey wi,” Aryll said more softly, and Sky smiled at the compliment.

“I can make them look more pretty too, look;” he said, and stretched a wing up, angling it so the tips would catch the light. The white and yellow and purple shimmered as the sunlight landed on them, brightening the colors and warming Sky’s feathers.

Aryll about had stars in her eyes, and Sky flapped a small gust of air at her, making her giggle.

“Pre! Pre!”

“Yeah, they’re something, aren’t they?” Sky said with a smile. Aryll admired them for a minute longer, then twisted her head around to look at her own back, a frown on her face.

“No wi?”

“No pumpkin, I’m sorry, you don’t have wings,” Sky said gently, but before Aryll could get too upset, Sky booped her nose. “But you have something just as cool. You can talk to birds all you want, which is pretty amazing.”

Aryll cocked her head to the side, not quite understanding what he was saying, and Sky whistled a birdsong he knew she especially liked, though he was pretty sure he was doing it wrong. Aryll’s eyes widened, and then she laughed at him.

“Papa a bir!”

Sky laughed in return as Aryll giggled, and then she let out a chirping sound, a whistle mixed with a few cheeps.

Sky blinked at the clear sound, and suddenly there was a chickadee sitting on her knee, joined shortly by a sparrow. Aryll chirped again, and three more birds came and sat with her, a swallow, a junco, and a goldfinch, fluffing their feathers and looking quite happy to be there.

“Aryll, what are you—”

Aryll let out a loud hoot, and suddenly a huge owl swept in, landing beside her and tilting its head curiously. Sky watched it in surprise, and Aryll let out a series of caws, several crows landing along the fence.

She kept up the noises, varying chirps and caws, and in no time at all their backyard was bustling with every kind of feathered friend that there was in the area, common birds, rare birds, birds Sky didn’t even recognize. There were even some seagulls by Sky’s knee, watching Aryll in rapt attention.

She was babbling nonsense mixed with an occasional chirp and whistle, and all the birds were listening, looking fascinated by whatever it was they were hearing. They were completely captivated, and though Sky was slightly bewildered, he had to admit that it was an amazing sight.

Aryll’s powers sure were something else.

Aryll eventually finished her speech with a soft coo, and a large portion of the birds took off, some giving her approving chirps before departing, others nuzzling at her cheek as they left. Soon enough the only birds left were the chickadee she’d originally called, a bluejay, and one of the seagulls.

Aryll chirped at the three of them, and they responded enthusiastically, the chickadee hopping up to sit on her finger while the other two moved to her shoulders. She beamed, and looked over at Sky, a bright smile on her face.

“Birs!”

Sky laughed. “No kidding. What did I tell you? Your powers are amazing, Aryll.”

“Birs a wi,” she said decisively, and leaned back against Sky, snuggling up to his chest. “Wi an bir a dee.”

Sky smiled, only having the vaguest idea of what she was saying, and leaned forward and kissed her head. “Absolutely, sweetie.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

yuu voice)

Happy birthday, Deuce. I think I may have mentioned this before, but I’m really into your looks. Think you can introduce me to your mom?

— basically the entire TWST fandom right now

[shadystranger]

Im crazy about the way they framed this like sam was poisoning his mind

[stormofdefiance]

Aventurine should have been wearing a feather boa instead of a fur collar and no one can change my mind

[ahhvernin]

If you're Goth or just are always looking for one more gothy-vampire aesthetic looking bird, because crows and ravens are overdone.

I gotchu.

DRACULA PARROT AKA VULTURINE PARROT

Black and red with a baldface.

[compacflt]

So Miles is pitching for a Top Gun: Rooster and I dont think we need a sequel tbh but if we do get a sequel to TGM what would do you think it would look like/you want it to be like?

i don’t care. the storys over.

Let’s do an indy 5/cars 3 situation (gotta keep the IP alive) where mav is in an old persons home with dementia and multiple replaced joints and divorced but somehow the navy still needs him and just him to train the new 20 year old female protégé (maybe amelia for tie-in bonus?) after rooster volunteered to fight in ukraine in 2022 and got shot down and killed a week into the war… And somehow it’s maverick and only maverick who gets behind the yoke to save the day (OMG Tom cruise wins against all odds again)

fun for the whole family and it makes a lot of money 🥳🤑

[queenofthursday6599-blog]

So for those who've probably noticed that I'm going through the old FOP episodes.

Here's something else that I've noticed.

Vicky will be painted as a monster even when she's doing something that's in the right.

Like during Dog's Day Afternoon, Vicky is painted as the villain because she does the responsible pet owner thing of getting her pets de-sexed.

Even though the whole inciting incident of the episode is that Timmy wants to switch brains with Vicky's dog because Vicky treats her pets better than she treats him, or people in general really.

The only pet she really seems to treat poorly is Goldie her Goldfish, because she lost interest in him.

Also the show has the stereotype of animal becomes depressed after getting de-sexed. For this episode.

With all of Vicky's pets that have been de-sexed appearing either outright depressed or just anxious in the case of Chipper the Cat.

Even though research shows that animals aren't really emotionally attached to their reproductive organs the way humans are.

Like they're more likely to be traumatized by the process if you've got a shitty vet, or poor post operative care, than they are by the actual state of being de-sexed.

Not to mention we see Doidle (Vicky's dog) later on in the series, and he's not depressed at all. He's pissed at Timmy and hates his guts, but he's just as active as he was in his debut episode. He goes through a period of "depression" but in reality he's probably just healing from surgery, because he bounces back from that later on.

Chipper's attitude is more in line with a declawed cat than a de-sexed one, Goldie's de-sexing is just nonsensical and is just to make it seem like Vicky does this for fun.

While Ginny's de-sexing is similar, as I've never even heard of someone de-sexing a parrot outside of it being medically necessary. Like due to cancer, or some similar medical problem. Which those kinds of issues are actually quite common in birds. Hell most vets won't even do this kind of procedure on a bird without a medical need for it.

Same for rodents. The vast majority of people who keep pet rodents, don't get said rodents de-sexed, unless there's a medical problem, or they've decided to house the pet in a set up with a member of the opposite sex.

Not to mention, all of this would take money. Money out of the notoriously greedy and money hungry Vicky's pocket, unless she's somehow getting her parents to pay for her numerous animals care and vet bills.

Like why is this show roasting Vicky for being a shockingly responsible pet owner considering who she is as a person?

Not to mention going through the time and money it takes to get an animal de-sexed, especially animals that don't commonly get de-sexed, like a Hamster, Goldfish, and Parrot? Where in you'd have to pay extra, and seek out a vet willing to do so in the first place, meaning you're almost certainly looking for a specialist?

How is it that after going through all the time, and effort, and money, it would take to get all her animals de-sexed, is Vicky then suddenly ignoring her pets.

Like you have to pick one.

Either Vicky is the type of pet owner to go completely overboard and prefer her pets over people.

Or Vicky is an irresponsible pet owner who buys animals to entertain herself but doesn't take care of them properly once she gets board of them.

You can't have it both ways.

[mochiwrites]

There’s birds chirping outside Grian’s window as he steps into the living space of his cottage, a bowl of water in his hands and rolls of bandages floating behind him, highlighted in glowing red.

His dark eyes sweep over the two men seated on his couch, and takes in their drastically differing expressions. One of them is smiling, peaceful and content despite the scratches covering his skin. There’s a bruise on his forehead, and his arm is most definitely broken, but he looks completely unbothered by it.

The man next to him is looking off to the side, his arms are crossed over his chest, brows pressed together and sitting low on his forehead. He looks just as injured as his friend, though he appears significantly less pleased about it. There’s a tear in the sleeve of his shirt, and Grian can see the blood drying against his pale skin.

Grian pauses right in front of them, “I don’t have much medical supplies, so we’ll have to make do with these.” He gestures at the floating objects behind him.

The smiling man looks up at him and his green eyes shine pleasantly, “Oh, not at worry! The hospitality is very much appreciated!”

The bowl of water is set down on the nearby table as Grian moves to pull a stool over. He places it down right in front of the two men before sitting down himself. The bandages float over to the table and Grian motions them down with his finger. “I’ll run out to town later and grab some actual supplies,” he says, eyes trailing over to the smiling man. He quirks a brow, “What did you say your names were?”

“We didn’t,” the brooding man cuts in, voice low and terse.

Grian frowns at him as he dips the towel on his shoulder into the water. “Well then can I know them?” he snarks in reply, and the smiling man laughs.

“The name’s Scar, and my grumpy companion is Mumbo,” Scar explains. He looks at Grian with an inquisitive gaze, though there’s something else within his eyes. Grian can’t quite tell what it is, but when he looks at Scar’s eyes he feels electricity zip through him. He suppresses a shiver. Scar smiles at him, but it appears just a tad too sharp, “And what may your name be, oh kind and benevolent stranger?”

“Grian,” he answers blankly, finding himself sitting up straighter on the stool. His insides twist and curdle with Scar’s eyes on him like this, feeling as the man is trying to see something that isn’t on the surface.

“And you’re a witch?” Scar questions, and the movement is minute, the way his eyes squint ever so slightly.

Electricity crackles in the air, charging each particle and making it taste static on Grian’s tongue. It almost feels like a stand off, like Grian should choose his words carefully else a fight in his home may break out. Or his mysterious and injured guests may just show themselves out at the very doorstep they randomly appeared on.

Slowly, Grian nods, “I am.” He watches Scar’s expression carefully, noting from the corner of his eyes the way Mumbo seems to stiffen. “I don’t see how that’s relevant right now though,” he says, motioning for Scar to move closer, “your injuries are much more important.”

Much like lightning cracking in the sky, or two sparks of electricity meeting, whatever charge was building in the atmosphere around them bursts. It quickly fizzles out and disperses, leaving only weak charges of static behind.

It makes Grian relax almost immediately, the hairs on the back of his neck no longer standing on edge. His shoulders drop slightly, letting his guard fall.

Scar offers him a smile and a soft secret chuckle as he leans in, and Grian has to bring the stool closer in order to reach him the way he needs to.

He dips the towel into the bowl once again, taking Scar’s chin in his hand to move him the way he needs to. He scowls as the light just isn’t working for him and with his free hand, he takes his finger and draws a circle in the air. It glows red as it forms from his fingertip before morphing and curling in on itself, becoming a sphere of light that glows warmly. “Much better,” Grian hums before carefully dragging the soaked towel against Scar’s skin.

Silence stretches over the living room as Grian works on patching up his mysterious guests’ injuries.