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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years ago

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ROT 8000 and what "security" means

If you’re an Internet Person of a Certain Vintage, you’ll likely experience the same thrill of delight I felt this morning when I discovered ROT8000, a Unicode version of the old ROT13 cipher. But after I finished smiling, I got to thinking.

http://rot8000.com/Index

ROT13 is a toy cipher with a simple method for scrambling text — simply change each character in the message to the character that comes 13 letters after it in the alphabet: A=M, B=N, C=O, etc. You’re ROTating each character 13 positions forward — hence, ROT13.

The cool thing about ROT13 is how you unscramble the message — just rotate each scrambled letter 13 positions forward again, so that it moves a full circle around the alphabet — ROT13+ROT13=ROT26, and there are 26 letters in the alphabet, so ROT26 takes you back to the start.

A+13=M. M+13=A. Or, put another way: A+26=A.

ROT8000 brings ROT13 into the modern digital environment. Our crude, Roman-alphabet-only systems have been upgraded to the Unicode standard, with a whopping 16,000-characters, incorporating many alphabets, symbols and emojis.

Here’s a sentence in plaintext. Here it is in ROT8000:

籑籮类籮簰籼籪籼籮籷籽籮籷籬籮籲籷籹籵籪籲籷籽籮粁籽簷籑籮类籮籲籽籲籼籲籷籛籘籝籁簹簹簹籃

(In Unicode, Chinese characters are 8000 positions away from the Roman alphabet).

Compared to ROT13, ROT8000 is actually a tiny, little bit more secure. When you see a ROT13 phrase, like:

Arire tbaan tvir lbh hc/Arire tbaan yrg lbh qbja

It’s totally clear that there’s some scrambled text there. and because it’s ROT13, it’s not hard to descramble it.

But if you’re not able to read Chinese, then it’s not immediately obvious that a phrase like this:

籗籮籿籮类籰籸籷籷籪类籾籷籪类籸籾籷籭籪籷籭籭籮籼籮类籽粂籸籾

is scrambled at all.

But of course, neither ROT13 nor ROT8000 are very secure.

If either were in wide use to detect secrets, someone could easily write a browser plugin that did a basic spellcheck on all the text you encounter, and if it doesn’t look like a real world, try a ROT13 and/or ROT8000 operation on it and see if you get recognizable text.

But we really did used to use ROT13 a lot. We used it to keep secrets. And it worked.

Why it worked is a fascinating look at all the different meanings that “security” has.

ROT13 was once a mainstay of online conversations on Usenet and message boards.

It was essential to joke forums (where it was used to scramble punchlines) and media forums (where it was used to scramble spoilers).

You see, “security” doesn’t exist in the abstract. Every security measure is a counter to a threat.

A sprinkler system is security against fire — but not burglars or snakes or covid aerosols.

The threat that ROT13 defended against was…you. It was a way to prevent you from accidentally reading something you didn’t want to know — a counter to your haste and/or curiosity.

Now, you might have a lot of security precautions you take against yourself. You might throw out all your Oreos when you go on a diet, or set a second wakeup alarm in case you miss the first one, or put all the stuff you need for work in your bag before you go to bed.

These are all measures to defend yourself against you — your lack of self-control, your ability to rationalize nodding off again after turning off the alarm, your forgetfulness while rushing around in the morning.

The thing that makes ROT13 interesting is that it was a way for your friends to defend you against yourself — as is the case with most security, it was a team sport.

Though ROT13 is now an old joke, this “social security” — in which we form groups that voluntarily take measures to defend ourselves from ourselves — has become surprisingly popular today.

That’s the point of things like disappearing messages in Snapchat, Wickr, Signal and other messaging tools. Sending you a “disappearing message” isn’t a way to stop you from blabbing its contents to others, or even getting a screenshot.

Even if the app tries to disable the recipient’s device’s screenshot facility, they can install a third-party screenshot app, or just use another device to photograph their screens.

But even though disappearing measures don’t make it possible for you to force other people to keep your secrets, they are still super useful — because automate the process of deleting old messages so you and your friends don’t accidentally leak them.

Communicating by disappearing message lets you and your friends agree that you won’t save your correspondence, so that cops or school principals or hackers or border guards or your boss or spies can’t harvest them and use them against you.

And it frees you and your friends from having to do anything to uphold that bargain you’ve made with each other. Disappearing messages aren’t an anti-traitor tool — they’re an anti-human-frailty tool. They prevent lapses, not betrayal. That’s incredibly useful.

We’re a couple decades into the slow-motion information security emergency, and it’s speeding up, and most people genuinely don’t understand the fundamental premise that “security” is always contextual, in relation to a threat.

That ignorance is dangerous. It’s what’s behind Missouri Governor Mike Parson’s absolutely shameful slander and threats against St Louis Post-Dispatch reporter Josh Renaud.

https://krebsonsecurity.com/2021/10/missouri-governor-vows-to-prosecute-st-louis-post-dispatch-for-reporting-security-vulnerability/

Renaud is a data-driven reporter for the Dispatch; he discovered that the state’s portal for looking up the credentials of educators and other school-system workers was exposing their social security numbers.

https://www.stltoday.com/news/local/education/missouri-teachers-social-security-numbers-at-risk-on-state-agencys-website/article_f3339700-ece0-54a1-9a45-f300321b7c82.html

If you looked up any of the 100,000+ records in the system and then examined the source of the webpage that loaded in your browser, you’d find this information. It was trivial to write a script to go through each page and harvest all 100K SSNs.

Renaud told the state education authority about the problem and his intention to publish on it, and gave them lots of time to remedy the problem (they took the site offline), and then he published his article.

Enter Governor Parsons, who, in a malapropism-riddled rant, denounced Renaud and the Dispatch as “perpetrators who attempt to steal personal information and harm Missourians.”

He mischaracterized Renaud’s work as “unlawful[ly accessing] encoded data…in order to examine other peoples’ personal information.” He claimed that Renaud’s article “may cost Missouri taxpayers as much as $50 million.”

And even as he was vilifying the investigator who had discovered a dangerous defect in his administrator’s systems, the governor downplayed its gravity, falsely claiming that “there was no option to decode Social Security numbers for all educators in the system all at once.”

Parsons called the investigation a “crime,” “an attempt to embarrass the state and sell headlines for their news outlet,” and a “political vendetta.” He threatened legal retaliation against the newspaper, the reporter, and “all those who aided [them].”

This is a really dangerous form of security illiteracy. A website that sends government employees’ SSNs to any computer in the world that requests them is severely broken — even if the code that contains the SSN includes a tag that says, “Please don’t display this part.”

Security is a team sport. Using a disappearing Signal message to tell a secret someone you trust (but who you fear might forget to delete it) is fundamentally different from sending the same message to someone you don’t trust — or anyone in the world who asks for it.

Renaud did a public service for 100,000 Missouri state employees. He deserves the governor’s praise and thanks, not his threats.

There is a place for security measures that assume good faith but bad follow-through — they are essential for groups that trust each other.

But a public website is visible to the whole world, which, by definition, includes literally everyone in the world you don’t trust. Sending sensitive information to people you don’t trust but tagging it “Please don’t look at this” is obviously bad security.

ROT13 — and ROT8000 — are useful for hiding spoilers or joke punchlines, or making sure the person whose birthday party you’re planning doesn’t accidentally ruin the surprise.

But if you used them to scramble Social Security Numbers — and then literally threatened to imprison the reporter who pointed out that this is a bad idea — you reveal yourself to be a fool.

Image:

Sobebunny https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Captain-midnight-decoder.jpg

CC BY-SA: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic

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piduai · 4 years ago

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Q&A corner from the DVD bundle of the 17th volume of Golden Kamuy

i haven’t seen it anywhere except for one question so i decided to translate it. the questions were asked by the anime seiyuus. sharing anywhere is fine, but please credit me.

Kobayashi Chikahiro (Sugimoto Saichi)

Q1: Can you share something memorable from your time doing research, and what dishes you tasted for it that you liked the best?

Noda: The herring fishery Henmi Kazuo fought at exists in Otaru, near the aquarium (currently Old Aoyama Villa), and the lumber they used there is so shockingly thick, I was surprised to learn that there were trees this huge growing in Hokkaido during that time. I recommend visiting it.

When i was in Sakhalin I ate borscht every day, to the locals it is what miso soup is to the Japanese. The Nivkh people I worked with made me a seal meat dish similar to yamatoni (beef boiled with soy sauce, ginger and sugar), it was tasty too.

Q2: I don't know if it's appropriate to ask this, but can you tell me how does Sugimoto wrap his scarf? No matter how many times I tried, it never comes out right.

Noda: I guess it's something you can't really imitate, the same way you can't imitate the hairstyle of Yabuki Joe from Ashita no Joe.

Q3: What would happen if the 7th Division or Hijikata's group got together and had some otter nabe?

Noda: Well... Things certainly would happen.

Shiraishi Haruka (Asirpa)

Q1: A cooking competition! With only men! Who would win?

Noda: I'd say Ienaga. Seems like someone who could cook any kind of ingredient deliciously.

Q2: If the characters were to live in the modern world, what occupations would they have?

Noda: Sugimoto would be the Japan representative in a minor league. Asirpa-san would be a schoolgirl in Otaru. Ogata would be a suburban dentist. Koito would work as an apparel consultant at Isetan Men's (department store focused on high-end men's fashion, footwear & accessories). Kiroranke would be a construction management engineer. Tsurumi would work in public security, Tanigaki would be selling squid in Hakodate, and Shiraishi would be in prison.

Q3: I personally would like to date Shiraishi and marry Sugimoto. If you were a woman, whom would you like as a boyfriend or husband?

Noda: I'd choose Ushiyama as my lover because he's gentle and strong. Would marry Koito because he's rich, and cheat on him with the simple-minded, lewd-bodied Tanigaki. Cikapasi is stupid and cute so he'd be my son.

Q4: The confrontation between Hijikata and Inudou was very impactful. Did you take any special precaution when depicting Hijikata's swordsmanship?

Noda: I avoided focusing on swords alone. A swordfight in which all they do is swing katanas around is unrealistic. They say that in real wars people would even throw rocks when fighting, after all.

Itou Kentarou (Shiraishi Yoshitake)

Q: The Sister episode was excellent from the setup to the punchline, it was my favorite to act. Is there anything you always keep at the back of your mind when drawing someone's likeness or portraits? Can you share any insight on it?

Noda: I'd say that I put an emphasis on the parts that stand out the most upon close observation. Some characters such as Nagakura and Ushiyama are based on real people, they have peculiar features so they're easy to draw. The most difficult one is Ogata. He can often turn out ugly if I'm being negligent. Inkarmat is difficult too. Retaining personality on an attractive face is hard is what I'm saying.

Ootsuka Akio (Nihei Tetsuzo)

Q: I heard that you planned on making Nihei the protagonist of Golden Kamuy. Do you plan on writing a spin-off story featuring him? I'd love to voice him more, wouldn't you like keeping him around longer?

Noda: Of course I would. He was too good to die, but I think his death was important for the flow of the story. However I don't think it would be possible for a spin-off with him to get animated and I would like the animation to keep going, so there's a good chance that he will be featured in flashbacks instead.

Seki Toshihiko (Henmi Kazuo)

Q: Are there any characters in the story that exceeded expectations and just started acting on their own? Or did you draw everyone according to initial plans, making them fit neatly in the story?

Noda: Henmi Kazuo is exactly the case, his role expanded more with each week I drew him. Oftentimes I'll come up with a completely new scenario in a few hours on a weekly basis so it can't all go smoothly. But if I answered that everything always goes according to plan I'd look badass as a creator, so that's what I'm going to say.

Takemoto Eiji (Tsukishima Hajime)

Q1: Tsukishima is generally diligent and mild-mannered, but it seems that he used to be a wild child, and he's lost his temper quite a few times while in Sakhalin. What is his boiling point?

Noda: Anything that has to do with that girl.

Q2: Initially, Tsukishima was a mob character. When did you decide to elevate him to regular status?

Noda: In volume 4, when they were negotiating with the English arms dealer. I realized that there is a need of a character who will do Tsurumi's dirty work for him and serve as a right hand man.

Q3: Both Tsukishima and Tsurumi are from Niigata prefecture. Do you have an emotional attachment to Niigata?

Noda: The person I based Tsurumi off was from Niigata. I'd like a chance to talk about it, someday.

Konishi Katsuyuki (Koito Otonoshin)

Q: At some point Koito got a hammer stuck to his hand due to the cold, and Sugimoto offered to help him get rid of it, with the two of them ending up running off into the distance. Did Koito use Sugimoto's help, after all? Or did he warm it up over a stove? I really want to know what happened between them.

Noda: Sugimoto roughly grabs Koito's hand and forcibly pulls it towards his crotch. Neither of them says anything, but both breathe heavily. It seems that Koito's hand is touching the tip of Sugimoto's penis. Sugimoto, full of vigor, gets his tip stuck to the hammer. 'I'm immortal!', he yells in order to encourage himself, and bursts into a healthy stream, whose heat allows him to separate his dick from the hammer. Sugimoto's steaming piss gets all over Koito's shoes and clothes, but not his hand, which is still frozen to the metal. Koito runs away in complete silence through the heat of Sugimoto's fluids.

#golden kamuy #translation #noda satoru

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indigo-wendigo · 3 years ago

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Cornibus Saga: Chapter 15

Wokini

“Gears are turning,” he said, his ankle propped over his knee. “And I owe a hundred percent of it to Odette; she’s worked really hard and now both me and Mallory are in the process of getting out of here.”

Olive smiled. “She sounds like the best friend.”

“The absolute best. I’m gonna buy her something nice. Probably something well-dressed and will open the car door for her.”

The therapist giggled. “So, you’re excited to leave. Can I ask what you plan to do about your mental healthcare once you do?”

“I think part of the deal Odette is cutting is that I have to have weekly visits with a psychologist and a talk therapist and they, like… have a committee where they discuss my care every month or so.” He scratched his scruffy jaw.

She nodded. “That sounds like a great plan. Because if I’m being honest? I don’t think you belong here.”

William looked at the ceiling. “Thank you.”

“I think what happened was a very unfortunate hallucination during a very unfortunate time due to a lot of stress on you. And you were sent here due to military levels of precaution. But you appear to be coping as well as anyone with your level of trauma on the medication you take. All sick people have bad days. And I think you had a really bad day.”

“My God.” He felt sincerely emotional and rubbed his face. What a relief. “Thank you so much.”

“That said, I agree that you need intensive care. But I think what Odette is working out for you with less work hours and more therapy time is a better personal plan for you. And I was wondering if there was a way I could continue to be involved in your care. If you’re comfortable with that.”

He blinked. “Yeah, absolutely.”

She smiled again. “You sure?”

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll mention it to Odette. Maybe they could get you on the committee, y’know. Can I ask why?” He huffed. “Usually, doctors can’t wait to scrape me off on someone else.”

Olive appeared saddened by his comment. “I find you interesting, I think you’re a good person, I respect you, and I think I can help you.”

William stared like he was waiting for the punchline. “You’re serious.”

“Of course.”

He glanced her up and down before putting both feet softly on the floor. “Thank you. That’s… that’s really nice.”

She straightened her posture again. “I’m also curious about what Mallory’s situation will be. Will she be receiving intensive care like you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We’re working on those details, but… the main thing is that she gets somewhere safe as soon as possible. The fixation Scarlet has on her is…” His lips went crooked. “Concerning.”

Olive nodded, too. “I totally agree. But, having been her therapist for a while now, I would be remiss to not mention that I am concerned about her initial adjustment to any life outside of a hospital.”

He blinked again. “What concerns do you have.”

She winced. “I’m entering a gray area with confidentiality.”

William waved a hand. “Right. Sorry.”

“She’s just… been inpatient for so long. Will I be able to see her after she leaves, too?”

He replied without even considering what it would take. “Yes. I’ll make sure that you’re still involved in her care and… maybe you can give an assessment to those who are overseeing her protection and care. Let me just…” He pulled a notepad toward him and began taking notes. “And give you an opportunity to… voice your concerns.”

“I really appreciate that, William. You and Odette are the dream team.”

He raised his eyebrows with a nod. “More than you know.”

She put her fist against her chin. “Care to chat about you and Odette?”

He took a deep breath with a smirk.

William found her standing beside the sofa in the recreation room in front of the television, holding a pillow shaped like an owl to her chest. She was watching a news story regarding Scarlet’s recent exploits. It was the first time he’d seen her in regular clothes. She was wearing jeans and a loose-fitting, striped hoodie T-shirt. Brian mumbled something where he was wadded up on the couch and Mallory smiled at him. William approached and she turned to him, beaming. “You ready?”

Her shoulders came up close to her jaws. “I’m kinda nervous.”

“That’s okay.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Everyone’s gonna love you.”

The door to the foyer opened and Odette stepped in. She wasn’t in uniform, but she was professionally dressed in a silk, pale pink blouse and gray slacks. She met them with an excited smile. “Hey, you two! Ready to hit the road?”

“Definitely,” Mallory said. She thanked Odette when she reached for her bag and handed it over. “Just sixty seconds to say goodbye?”

“Of course, milaya! Take your time.”

She thanked her again and turned to the group lingering in the recreation room, who had apparently been awaiting her departure and closed in on her, each taking their turn with a hug.

William stood next to his redheaded friend and couldn’t help but watch. Some of them were crying, squeezing the breath out of Mallory.

“They really love her here,” Odette said.

“She takes care of everyone.” He pointedly looked at Odette. “I mean she really looks out for them. Better than most of the staff.” He winced at hearing one of the other patients audibly weeping. Mallory wasn’t crying, but she comfortingly rubbed the patient’s back as they hugged. “They’ll miss her. I would.”

Mallory came back to William and Odette. “Okay, I’m ready,” she breathed with a hint of anxiety.

Odette led the way to the foyer where Doctor Blakely was waiting with her hands behind her back. The three of them paused when the doctor smiled. “I wish you both the best,” she said, extending a hand to Mallory. “Take care.” She shook Mallory’s hand and then William’s. The released patients thanked her and stepped out the final set of doors.

Odette looked at William. “Mne ona ne nravitsya.”

He chuckled. Mallory stopped when a red-coated soldier opened the door of the miniature limousine. She thanked them sincerely and took a seat in the back. William and Odette climbed in after her. “How cool is it that we got discharged on the same day?” Mallory grinned.

“You have her to thank for that.” William nodded to Odette. “The mastermind making our lives better.”

“Hardly.” Odette reached for a tiny fridge pocket in the back with them and retrieved some water bottles. “Just pays to know the system!”

When they arrived at their destination, Mallory’s eyes were out the window the entire way from the gate of base headquarters to the main building. William smirked when she rolled the window down and stuck her head out to see the tops of some of the structures. She watched the formation in the opposite clearing with fascination. After they exited their ride and passed the last security checkpoint inside the main building, Mallory started to go rigid, hugging her owl pillow.

William walked close next to her, nodding in acknowledgement to the people who saluted him as he passed. “Relax,” he said softly.

“Everyone’s in uniform,” she said.

“Yeah, because they’re in the military. You’re not,” he chuckled.

“I still feel underdressed.”

“Then we both are.” He took her owl pillow from her and hugged it to his belly, eliciting a giggle from her.

They traveled to the depths of the building and past a certain point, no one was wearing red coats anymore. Instead, they were wearing white lab coats. Mallory automatically smiled when they were eagerly met by three doctors, who first greeted William and Odette before shaking Mallory’s hand. The man introduced himself and the two women as his colleagues who were in charge of the study of Special Abilities. “We understand that you have quite the unique power, Mallory.” He was grinning from ear to ear. William found it amusing how excited they became—not that it was unwarranted.

“So I’ve been told,” she replied. William expected her to sound shy, but she didn’t have a sheepish note at all. She was actually putting out professional vibes. Even her handshake looked enthusiastic.

“Well, that’s spectacular and we’re certainly eager to see how we might be able to help you identify some controlling points in your experiences with the wendigo.”

“I’m certainly looking forward to seeing how I can aid the cause.”

William puffed his chest out a little at that.

“Great! All right, allow us to give you the tour.” The three doctors guided Mallory, William, and Odette through halls that very much resembled a regular medical hospital. They were shown examination rooms, exercise rooms, and simulation rooms. Mallory nodded with interest and made acknowledging comments here and there. But when Odette elbowed William and subtly nodded at Mallory’s waist, he saw how Mallory had successfully picked off three ends of her fingernails just in the time of the tour. He even caught her discreetly putting one in her pocket instead of dropping it on the floor so as to not leave a trail of her panic.

The last room they stepped into William recognized as a sleep observatory, meaning it was a real bed with a nice duvet with a homey nightstand, but it was sitting in the middle of a stark white room with a giant pane of glass on one wall. When the man introduced this as “her room,” William spoke up. “Pardon? Her room?”

“Yes.”

He blinked. “You don’t mean this is…” He looked at Odette. “I thought we were able to swing the apartment wing for her on the…” He pointed East.

“I… thought so too—Mallory’s not ready for sleep studies right now; who told you this was where she would be staying?”

The doctors looked embarrassed. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was given that information by Colonel Marshall.”

“It’s all right, we’re not blaming you. But that was not the arrangement Colonel Marshall was informed of.” Odette turned to William. “Ona ne mozhet ostavat’sya zdes’. Ye nuzhno chto-to bol’she pokhozheye na dom.”

“Oh—no, this is fine!” Mallory said. “It’s a lovely bed! It looks so cozy!”

Odette vehemently shook her head as she started typing on her phone rather firmly. William turned to Mallory. “That’s okay.” He placed a hand on her shoulder again. “Change of plans.”

#writblr #writing community #original work #ya fantasy #ya fiction #urban fantasy #magical realism #cornibus saga

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goldensadnessdolphin · 3 years ago

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The Prophecy

In the city of sands, Rathalica, stands a home made of marble and stone. It is here, where the Prophet Ihalduran lives. Twice a month, they accept visitors and read them a future.

Oracles and prophets often see themselves as cursed. Not being able to change a future once it has been seen can be a terrible burden. Ihalduran feels differently. There is comfort in knowing over hoping.

Draped atop a modest chaise longue, they lazily eat an assortment of berries. They raise an eyebrow, just a moment before there is a knock on the door. It's the same tok-tok-toktok pattern as always. Their servant and dear friend Mihale knows he doesn't have to knock. It's not like he could surprise Ihalduran. He still does so anyway to be polite.

With a slight creaking, the door opens and Mihale nervously clears his throat. "Great Sage, the Tyrant King is here." he states in the proper, official manner. Less because Ihalduran needs it, but because they find it funny. "He seems to want to go to war and... um... doesn't seem in the best of moods." Trying to keep up the composure, but shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he waits for an answer. Ihalduran, beaming with a knowing grin, answers: "Let him in, I have a good feeling about this."

A nod and a moment later, the Invincible King Braktatharus moves past the thick doors, with steps and blackened armor clanging throughout the hall. He sneers at the aid of the prophet, who is too frightened to flee the room. Turning to Ihalduran, his deep voice fills the room effortlessly. "Let's keep this short, pervert of futures. I will go to war with Cladaria, I came to hear you affirm my victory." Ihalduran nods solemnly. They slowly stand up, straighten their robes and bring over the jewels, incense and magically infused chalk. With steady, experienced hands, they place everything, connecting it with chalk lines. All of this has to be proper for such a guest, of course. All the while they try not to smile and betray that most of this overprecision is there to waste the Tyrants time. With a final stroke of chalk, the foundation is finished. With grand gestures, Ihalduran recites words in an old language. A few of them are necessary for the ritual, the majority is from an old miner song. Finally, their head tilts back, their eyes aglow with eerie light- and then they just laugh. Absolutely lose it. Barely holding themselves on their legs, sides ache, cheeks hurt. The King barks at him to stop the theatrics or have his "pet" be killed right then and there. Mihale gets really fucking nervous. Only when he sheepishly asks what the Prophet saw, do they slowly regain composure. The chuckles still ebb and flow a bit as the Ihalduran straightens his clothes again to look presentable (and waste more of the Tyrants' time) and finally, after taking a deep breath, answers: "Oh you're gonna get fuuuuuuuuucked Braky! Absolutely wrecked. Thousands of years in the future, people will know you only as a punchline for the absolute buffoon you made of yourself. You-" which is the point where they start to laugh uncontrollably again. The Tyrant King shakes his head. "Tsk, what did I expect of lowly scum like you? My victory is assured. I will spare your life as a sign of my higher quality of character. Be thankful." With a flashy turn of the cape, he leaves as the laughter of the Prophet bounces from the stone walls, hops on the marble floors and rings in the Tyrants' ears. Only after he is gone does Ihalduran slowly stop laughing, assuring Mihale that no harm could've come to them. As a precaution, they obviously looked into the future at the time they take visitors, so they knew two things: The prophecy will send them into an uncontrollable, joyous, hearty laughter and that the King will take this as an attempt to second guess himself. In doing so, killing or even hurting anyone who heard of the prophecy would come across as childish and go against the status he so delicately made for himself. But the Prophet wouldn't know what the future actually was. You can't predict a prophecy through an ongoing prophecy. A week later, news returns to the Prophets' home. The King is dead, betrayed and beaten by his own troops. Turns out, you can only control, torture, threaten and kill people for so long until they become numb to it and turning sides makes no difference anymore. Hell, it might even end the pain faster if you get caught. No other blood was shed, a swift, simple death of no honour, where peasants forced to kill their own finally turned fate against The Invincible. Allegedly, the final blow came from someone called "Geoffrey the Meek". Through the eons, this tale lives on, as a warning to some and an encouragement to others. But to the Prophet, it's the best laugh in his life.

#Tell-a-Tale #You know those stories that just come to you like a bolt out of the blue?#The stories that DEMAND you tell them?#this was one of them #I probably didn't fully do the premise justice #but I LOVE the idea of a prophet that is essentially a surfer dude #and just doesn't take anything seriously #to the point where they love knowing stuff like this can happen #where everything they see will come true #so there is no point in killing them anyways #this actually started as an idea for a DnD character #but I don't think a player could play that in a way that doesn't destroy the campaign #or makes it railroady

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shaezerburn · 5 years ago

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Flowers for Freezerburn Week. :)

WC: 1790

Haven’t written in forever. Dunno if I like it. Ahhhh. Either way, FREEZERBURN FOR THE SOUL ENJOY THESE TWO NERDS.

A single golden chrysanthemum laid on her desk.

Her lavender eyes scanned the room for a hint of who or what might’ve laid it there. Nobody seemed too suspicious, or out of place. The usual group of guys in the back were doing their, well, dude things. Some of the girls seemed to be doing their own things as well. Blake on her phone, Velvet messing with her camera, and so on. And well, there was another student - one particular student who always seemed to be giving everyone and anyone the cold shoulder. Weiss Schnee who was nose deep in a textbook.

Yang tried to envision every single one of her classmates sneaking in, and dropping the flower off on her desk. But none seemed more preposterous than to have someone like Weiss dropping off the flower. So much so that Yang snickered to herself, only to be interrupted by a smack on the back.

“Yang! Is that a flower?” Sun peeked around Yang’s shoulder, side-stepping now to grab the flower. He took a hearty sniff, “Oh wow, that’s pretty fresh.” He turned to Yang who had an eyebrow raised at his forwardness, he seemed to wave the flower in her face, “Is this from an admirer?”

Yang yanked the flower out of his hand and carefully set it back on the desk. “Honestly, I don’t know. It was just here when I arrived.” She looked around the room, Sun doing the same but waving happily at Blake at the same time.

“You think it could be anyone in here?” Sun asked he spoke loud enough for Yang to hear as he walked a few feet to get to Blake’s desk. Yang set down her backpack near the desk, grabbed the flower and followed Sun to Blake’s desk.

“Nah,” she shook her head, “Hey Blake, did you see who put this here?” she waved the flower in front of Blake’s face. Blake swatted at Yang, as Yang quickly pulled back the flower.

“No. It was here when I walked in.”

“And that was?”

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

“Seriously?” Yang guffawed. The thought of someone coming in here so early before 8 am just to drop off a flower for Yang was seriously something else for her. Who would actually have the dedication to do that? Although Yang secretly found it kind of cute and sweet, she never considered herself ever getting flowers. Especially since she was the kind of gal to go and give flowers. “Weird…” she muttered.

“Who even grows these types of flowers, anyways?” Sun gawked at the flower. “What type is it?” he mischievously stole back the flower from Yang observing it in an obnoxious manner.

Yang shoved Sun in retaliation, “The least you could do is not destroy it and let me figure that out!” as she growled out her statement she stole back the flower and returned to her desk.

Yang returned to her desk and carefully slipped the flower into her backpack. This flower mystery was surely going to get the better of her and her thoughts. Yang could not figure out who, what, or why someone would leave a flower for her.

“Alright class,” Professor Port called out as he entered the room “The lesson for today is…”

It didn’t really matter what the lesson was for Yang, either way, she’d pass. And either way, she’d get down to the mystery of who had left this flower on her desk. One way or another.

---

Weeks passed and the mystery of who had left the flower there was growing. Yang had managed to trickle it down to several suspicious people. One was Mercury, she hadn’t of known why she would’ve thought he was a suspect - but her gut instinct and the massive amount of glares she had constantly received from the suspect in question was something to be wary about. Maybe he had a crush. Or maybe he was buttering her up to be her number one enemy on the campus.

Sun and Blake had agreed on the suspicions of Mercury, but they also seemed to single out Shay-D. His goofy and nearly toothless smile was also something to be cautious about. Was he too, crushing on Yang? Or was this some sort of long-winded prank that Yang was waiting on the punchline for?

Lastly, it seemed like Neptune was a good contender. Sun’s best friend. Although the combination of his incessant flirting and denial of the floral arrangement went hand in hand as the days went on. Yang wasn’t sure if Neptune was actually capable of such romantic interactions such as fresh flowers and of the likes.

Things for Yang had only grown more mysterious. One Friday morning Yang came in to see her desk surrounded by other classmates. Yang shuffled her way through the small crowd to see a gorgeous bouquet of chrysanthemums on her desk. Golden chrysanthemums lined the outside, while another smaller circle was covered with orange, and then a single yellow one rested as the centerpiece.

A hard blush came over Yang as her classmates gawked at her new gift. Just who in the world was giving her these flowers? And how in the hell did they know that these were her favorite flowers? One single flower, Yang considered a fluke - but a whole bouquet dedicated to Yang along with her favorite colors… well that, that wasn’t a coincidence.

Shooing everyone away from her desk, she slammed her backpack on the ground and sat at her desk. Focusing long and hard on the flowers before her. Their aroma to her, was intoxicating. Her favorite flower, and favorite smell.

She groaned and covered her face in her hands. This was going to bother her. Just who exactly was this mysterious flower giver? She looked around the classroom, exchanging small glances with some classmates who too were curious about the mystery admirer.

Sun and Blake gave her pitying looks and shrugs. It seemed like they too were just spectators in this spectacle. Her eyes scanned once more, she met eyes with someone she didn’t expect to. Weiss Schnee. Weiss seemed to sneer at her, brows furrowed. Her head quickly turned away, going back to whatever she was doing before their eyes had met. Yang shook her head and turned back to her desk looking at the flowers.

It wasn’t Weiss. Sun. Blake. Or Neptune, or anyone else in this classroom. Who in their right mind would just send Yang flowers of all things?

She would figure it out one way or another.

///

It seemed like her mysterious admirer had other ideas when it came to a confrontation. In Yang’s locker appeared a sticky note - ‘Meet me on the roof if you want to know who I am.’ It was signed with a badly drawn bouquet of flowers. It was way passed leaving time as Yang had stayed back for a little extra credit work.

“So you know my locker number too?” Yang muttered to herself, folding the note and sticking it in her pocket. The roof, huh? Yang racked her mind by trying to remember what was on the roof. There were certain electives and academics that had taken odd spots around the school’s campus, so this just had to be another one.

She walked her way up towards the roof, taking a staircase after staircase. Just who else on earth would be at school still?

Finally arriving at the rooftop, she prepared to meet this mysterious admirer.

Passing through the door, she was greeted by bright sunlight on its way to meet the horizon, causing her to squint and shield her face with her hand. There was a light breeze in the air as Yang closed the rooftops door behind her. An aroma like no other hit her nose, she stared at ahead of her finally getting back her senses.

Before her were rows and rows of flowers, lined up on the rooftops. A small cabin laid in the center of it all. Who exited the cabin, was what surprised Yang most of all.

Weiss Schnee exited the cabin, wiping sweat off of her forehead and approached Yang with an air about her.

“No way…” Yang stood there in shock, “You?!” she approached Weiss with a fervor.

Weiss of all things nonchalantly nodded with a very soft “Yeah.”

Now flabbergasted Yang stood there with her mouth agape. “Why?”

This simple question made Weiss smirk. “You’re really cute when you look at flowers,” she answered almost immediately. “Your secret love for them is really admiring.”

Yang took a step back and blushed, “How would you know that?!”

“You really don’t notice the world around you, do you? Though, I guess there is to say you DO stop to smell the flowers every now and then.” Weiss sighed and twiddled her thumbs anxiously.

“What are you talking about?!”

Weiss rolled her eyes, “You can’t be serious, Yang. Every Saturday, at 6:30 AM you pass by Fiona’s Flowers and smell every single flower there. Stopping at the chrysanthemums the longest. Then when you come by again, same day, 6:30 PM and do it again, but only if no one is watching.”

Yang was speechless. How the hell did Weiss know all of these things? And did she SEE her if Yang had taken every precaution to make sure that no one knew about her secret love and her secret routine when she goes to the gym and work!

“I work at Fiona’s Flowers by the way. Every Saturday.” Weiss admitted.

By now Yang’s face was the reddest it had ever been. “Please, don’t tell anyone…”

“Don’t tell anyone that you like flowers? Yang, do you know how ridiculous you sound?”

“I know, but please...can we let it be our little secret?”

Weiss approached Yang, her eyes locked on to Yangs. Yang’s blush grew. “Sure, but…”

“But..?”

She was now inches apart from Yang’s face, looking up at her intensely. Yang could feel her heartbeat in her throat, Weiss was gorgeous from afar she had to admit, but this close up? Beauty beyond words.

“Can you keep mine?”

There was a small hesitation with Weiss, she wasn’t sure that Yang would accept what she was about to do. But Yang watched her carefully, actually leaning in towards Weiss to help her with her own ‘secret’. Weiss’s lips met Yang’s. Yang had clearly accepted the movement, kissing her back - but as Weiss pulled away Yang was still clearly shocked.

“Uh..wow. Yeah, I…” Yang sputtered out, her body burned. Her face still having that one shade of red covering it. “C-Can we keep doing this?” her arms gestured around her.

“The flowers or the kissing?”

“Both?” Yang sputtered.

“Both is good.” Weiss smiled.

#Weiss Schnee #Yang Xiao Long #Freezerburn #freezerburnweek

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rescue-49 · 5 years ago

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Melody In Green

@strongestavengerbruce Living in Avengers Stark Tower was no laughing matter. The amount of times the building had been nearly destroyed was comical to the point it was a punchline for late night comedians about properties Tony Stark would purchase. One of those sets of precautions that were protocol in the tower was the set of guidelines that had been put forth for deal and handling of code Green situations.

Pepper, herself, had never actually encounter Bruce’s green counterpart. She was curious to say the least. The footage of the Hulk saving Tony after he came rapidly down from the wormhole was heartwarming, but there had been issues since then that she understood the wariness. Thus this is how Pepper found herself entering the Avenger’s gym level floor to meet up with Bruce.

Clad in her usual workout attire, she looks at Bruce with a raised eyebrow,”Hey. What’s up?”

#c: bruce banner #p: melody in green

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noblecrumpet-dorkvision · 6 years ago

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Necromancy Week: Roleplaying a Necromancer

Check out the full post here: https://homebrewery.naturalcrit.com/share/Hybed38k37

Necromancer Ideals

Necromancy is often seen as something that is overtly evil, with little room for nuance. Instead, take time to think about how your necromancer feels about certain concepts. Everyone has morals. What sort of morality does your necromancer align to? How much do they respect the bodies and souls of the dead?

The following are examples of ideals or viewpoints held by necromancers of different alignments in reference to certain questions of morality: the body, the soul, death, undeath, and necromancy. Although necromancy is seen as innately evil, keep in mind that a character might see themselves as good or responsible in their practice.

Regarding the Body

Flesh is a Plaything. (Chaotic) There are so many creative things you can make with flesh through the wonders of necromancy. Add a few arms here, an owlbear head there, and *voila:* A man-spider owlbear.

Flesh is Pain. (Evil) The existence of flesh only brings pain. It can sting, rip, tear, burn, and decay. Relieving a creature of this pain, through death or undeath, is truly a blessing.

Flesh is Memory. (Good) If it has flesh, it still clings to a remnant of its past life. Animating skeletons relieved of flesh or animating carefully embalmed corpses is the respectful thing to do.

Flesh is a Resource. (Lawful) Creatures are a semi-renewable resource. Living or dead, as long as it is a means to fill an end, you should take it. Need a bridge across a chasm? Those corpses aren't doing anything, just toss in enough to fill the pit.

Regarding the Soul

Souls be Damned. (Chaotic) They're dead, so what does it matter? Why dwell on the past when you can use their bodies for the present? Honestly if they didn't want to be called back into an unholy vessel they should have taken better precautions.

Souls are Currency. (Evil) Souls are valuable in the lower realms. The cost of power comes with a price, and that price is souls. Understand and respect their intrinstic value, whether in or out of its original vessel.

Souls Deserve Thanks. (Good) Performing a rite of thanks whenever you animate a corpse is the right thing to do. Perhaps toss a few gold pieces into their empty grave, light a candle, scribble a rune on the tombstone, mark an unmarked grave, or speak a prayer.

Souls Have a Choice. (Lawful) Only reanimate the corpses of those who have given explicit permission to do so, either before they died or after (thanks to a Speak with Dead spell). You could make maybe make an exception if the corpse was not your own species, not humanoid, or was hostile to you.

Regarding Death

Death is for the Weak. (Chaotic) If someone managed to die, then they were not fit to live. You can't have qualms reanimating the dead since they already failed at life. Now their bodies serve a better purpose. Perhaps those that died of old age or from an accident were deserve some respect, though.

Death is Ideal. (Evil) Death is more perfect than life; immortal, inevitable, strong. We should each strive to one day become undead. Each corpse reanimated is given the gift of an ideal life.

Death is Natural. (Good) When someone dies, they move on to the next world. It's a step forward in the eternal cycle. The souls we borrow to create undead should return to their place in that cycle once we are finished with them.

Death is Inevitable. (Lawful) Death is a statistic. One day each person will die, and there isn't anything to be done about it. Undeath is just a pale imitation, and not even under moral scrutiny.

Regarding the Undead

Eternal Hunger. (Chaotic) Undead are a way to spread chaos. Zombies are the perfect choice: mindless and strong. You don't need a reason to reanimate someone, or even to keep them under your control. Let them loose and watch them cause havoc, driven purely by their insatiable hunger.

Eternal Torment. (Evil) Undead are a way to harm and sow fear among the living. An undying army that grows with each fallen enemy: the perfect storm of terror and blood.

Eternal Glory. (Good) Granting a corpse the ability to fight again is a noble one. A chance to still do some good even after they have passed on. Reanimating a body to fight is an honor rather than a sin; a chance for them to seek glory on the field of battle.

Eternal Duty. (Lawful) Undead are tools created by spellcasters to meet an end. They are meant to follow orders. Obedient skeletons are the ideal servant. It is reckless to create something and let it loose for destruction alone.

Regarding Necromancy

Necromancy is Irony. (Chaotic) You see life as a joke and undeath is just an ironic punchline. You don't have qualms about reanimating corpses, and in fact find it hilarious. You rebel at life by bringing back the dead, desecrating corpses on a mere whim.

Necromancy is Abhorrent. (Evil) Necromancy is as evil as it comes, and that's the way it should be. The entire school of magic is an affront to the gods and their power.

Necromancy is a Tool. (Good) Necromancy is simply a tool. In the right hands, it can be a force of good, rather than evil. It can do things that no other school can. It would be irresponsible to demonize it.

Necromancy is Just Magic. (Lawful) Necromancy is not evil. It's just another school of thought. Reanimating a bunch of zombies is no more or less ethical than casting a Fireball spell.

Unique Necromancy

We all are familiar with necromancers performing a ritual to cast Animate Dead over a corpse. But this is your character! You can change the theme of something without changing its mechanics too much. Ask your GM if they would allow your necromancer to create undead in one of these ways instead.

Herbalist

Your necromancer animates the dead by using controlled plants as the "muscles" around a humanoid skeleton.

Appearance. Undead you create look like a bush grew out of it. Leaves and vines obscure parts of the corpse. Perhaps a branch grows out of its back or neck or replaces a limb.

Ritual. You weave necromantic energy with transmutation magic into a handful of seeds, which are planted strategically throughout the corpse. You then spend time encouraging the plant's growth to fill out the body.

Mechanics. The undead are still mindless, perhaps even directly controlled by you as if they were puppets. The GM might give them the plant creature type in addition to undead. The plants are living so they aren't any more or less resistant to fire, but can still catch fire.

Alchemist

Your necromancer animates corpses through mad science.

Appearance. Undead you create look like Frankenstein's monster with tough skin, mismatched parts, and lumbering gait. Some include extra limbs that seem to twitch independently. The creatures smell strongly of preservatives.

Ritual. You prepare the corpse by stitching together it's lost limbs (and maybe adding a few extra ones) and preserved organs. Then you embalm the flesh so it lasts longer, perhaps even becoming tougher or stronger in the process. Then, you bring new animation into the musculature and nerves using a magic potion pumped into the blood vessels.

Mechanics. The undead's body has been completely reanimated, but it lacks a soul. It can think and understand commands, but it is otherwise mindless. Even if you add more limbs, it still only has one Slam attack as it is slow and clumsy.

Spectralist

Your necromancer traps souls inside corpses to animate them.

Appearance. Your zombies' eyes, mouths, and any wounds glow with ethereal light of the spirits trapped within. Your skeletons have a glow about their bones and a mass of writhing spirits trapped in the rib cage, trying to reach through the ribs. When any of your undead are destroyed, the trapped spirits burst upward to escape back to the afterlife.

Ritual. The spell you cast to animate a corpse first involves summoning spirits with a lengthy incantation, incensed candles, and a magic circle to trap them within. Then you bind them to something, a bauble perhaps, and seal them in the chest or skull of the corpse to reanimate.

Mechanics. Your zombies operate the same way regular zombies do, but maybe the spirits occasionally beg for freedom in hushed whispers or animals become uneasy around the creatures.

Shadowweaver

Your necromancer forges connections to the negative energy plane or the plane of shadows, or whatever sort of dark and evil plane your setting permits.

Appearance. Your undead show some sign of connection to a dark plane. Their skin is darker, and their claws blackened. Wisps of shadow drift off of their head and shoulders like a mist. A shadowy core of dark magic is half-exposed emerging from their chest, head, or similar area.

Ritual. You create undead by opening a tiny rift to the dark plane, then collect its shadowy energy into a vessel. The vessel is then implanted into a prepared corpse where you weave the magic through its body by tracing arcane sigils on its skin.

Mechanics. This undead functionally works the same way that regular undead do, but maybe erupt into shadowy energy when destroyed for a cool visual.

Machinist

Your necromancer animates dead through the power of machines.

Appearance. Your undead are fused with metal parts that replace or empower limbs. Each creature emits steam or crackles with electricity.

Ritual. To create the undead, you need engineering tools as much as magic. You use the magic to bring the corpse back to life and execute commands, but the machine does all the heavy lifting. Inorganic parts move the rest of the zombie, and it's powered by either a magical electric battery or a steam engine or even clockwork.

Mechanics. Your undead might be more prone to fire, lightning, or thunder damage at the GM's discretion, but maybe they could pack more of a punch to compensate. You would most likely need Tinker's Tools in addition to other materials needed for the spell.

Puppetmaster

Your necromancer animates undead through telekinesis rather than granting them actual undeath.

Appearance. Your undead look much like any other corpse, though perhaps a bit clumsier in movement if you aren't directly concentrating on controlling its movement.

Ritual. You create little magical nodes at the corpse's joints, almost like a magical map you can quickly read to focus your telekinesis in the right areas. You then perform a ritual using a marionette as a focus and draw strings of magical energy to each of the created nodes.

Mechanics. Your undead act as normal but your GM might have convictions that you can only control the undead while you are conscious and they cannot make decisions on their own.

Fiend Binder

You summon and trick fiends into your service to possess corpses you intend to animate.

Appearance. Your undead have small sparks of flame emit from their mouths or eye sockets. They have a summoning circle of burnt salt branded into their torso and constantly smell of sulfur. The presence of a fiend may even alter the corpse with spines or horns, maybe even hinting at the sort of fiend trapped within.

Ritual. The spell to animate your zombie looks more like a demon summoning than a necromancy spell, because it is. You must give the fiend some sort of offering for its service and force it to sign a lengthy contract if it want to be freed from your summons. The fiend departs when the undead is slain, in a dramatic burst of fire and gore.

Mechanics. Your undead are far more intelligent but also far more belligerent. They might spew obscenities or try to refuse commands. Much more promising for roleplaying opportunities than normal undead. The fiend is likely immune to some energy types, but its vessel isn't. So the fiend won't impart its resistances to the zombie.

#necromancer week #necromancer #rpg #D&D 5e #dungeons and dragons #dnd #DnD 5e #D&D #noblecrumpet #dorkvision

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winglesscrows · 6 years ago

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I’m Yours Ch. 9

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Merlin (BBC) I T I Merlin & Arthur I 61k

“Arthur used to think he knew everything about his servant, and to an extent he still did. As shocked as he had been about the incident, this wasn’t exactly something that was unlike Merlin. It was dumb and it came from a place of kindness with a total disregard of himself. The action itself, Arthur understood. What he didn’t understand was why Merlin had kept it to himself.”

In which Arthur slowly unravels the mystery that is Merlin, and begins to realize just how much he doesn’t know.

Read on AO3 I Patreon I FF.net or under cut

Arthur pulled himself together as he took his unconscious manservant and sprinted to the physician's quarters. He passed a pair of guards on his way to the other side of the castle, frantically yelling at them to get Elyan to Gaius as fast as possible, and only heard as the guards too started sprinting down the corridor to get the knight. Despite Arthur's quick steps and frantic breathing echoing down the empty hallways, nothing seemed louder than the sound of Merlin heaving for air, sounding like nothing entered his lungs. Arthur didn't look at him as he ran, afraid of what he would see should he look. As long as he could hear Merlin breathe, it would be okay. It would be okay.

Gaius was rightfully startled when Arthur burst into his chambers at such a late hour, but didn't get to ask any question as he saw the state of his ward. He immediately gestured for Arthur to put Merlin down on the bed, and Arthur held up a candle to light Gaius' field of vision.

"He's been poisoned," Gaius said, working through the unpleasant surprise by stating the obvious, "How did this happen?"

"He drank a truth serum," Arthur tried to explain, his voice morphed into something he couldn't recognize. He wanted to scream and yell that this wasn't supposed to happen. That this wasn't his fault. But now wasn't the time for excuses. They just needed to find a cure. "I don't know why this happened. It was fine before."

"Truth serums are fickle things," Gaius explained, as he kept examining Merlin, going into full physician mode to prevent his emotions from take over. Arthur should be thankful for that. As soon as Merlin was better, Gaius would be nothing short of angry, "Many of them will lose their properties after less than a day, usually developing into something different."

They should have researched that. They should have known, taken every precaution. They should have-

Elyan appeared by the door and hurried to Merlin's side as soon as he saw him.

"I need to know what was in the truth serum," Gaius said urgently, and Elyan shook his head, getting into a less worried state as he recited the recipe.

As the two of them worked together, Arthur took a few steps back, giving them space to move freely, and collapsed on the bench. This was not meant to happen. It might not have been right to use the truth serum, but what cruel fate had dictated that for his actions, Arthur would poison his servant, his closest friend? Was their friendship the prize for breaking Merlin's trust? Arthur wouldn't be able to bear that. All he had done, he had done for Merlin, to stop him from getting hurt.

But he had gotten hurt. Arthur had hurt him. Poisoned him, tricked him and betrayed him. And if he died- no! Arthur refused to let that be an option. Merlin wouldn't die, but what would happen then? Merlin had always been loyal, but what reason would he have to remain? And what would Arthur do then? If there was no Merlin, then surely, there was no Arthur either.

It was perhaps an hour later when Elyan moved Merlin from the patient's bed up to his own room to rest. Arthur wanted to follow them, but Gaius blocked his way.

"What were you thinking?" Gaius accused and Arthur felt smaller than he had in years. It was never pleasant to have the ever patient Gaius yelling at you, "Did it never occur to you that you didn't know what you were dealing with?"

"No, we-" Arthur wanted to say they had tested it, that they had made sure to not give Merlin something they wouldn't know what was, but what knowledge did they possess? They weren't physicians. They were knights. Stupid, foolish knights who thought there was a simply solution to everything, "I don't have an excuse," Arthur said quietly, "I made a mistake, and Merlin had to pay for that. I'm sorry. I never meant-"

"I know you didn't," Gaius interrupted, "God knows that you would never do something like this intentionally. But even if your intentions hadn't backfired, do you still think you did the right thing?"

"No," Arthur shook his head. He couldn't look at Gaius as he spoke, "I was… angry, scared. It seemed like an easy way to be rid of all my problems. I knew it wasn't right. I didn't want to use it, but I just got… frustrated and, God, I wish I had never done it," Arthur looked up at Gaius, "But please, don't blame Elyan or Gwaine for this. I was the one who chose to use it. They aren't to blame."

"At least you're responsible," Gaius scoffed, still very angry with Arthur, "I would send you back to your chambers, but I think it would do more harm than good. Stay as long as you like."

"Thank you, Gaius."

None of them slept that night. Elyan stayed with Merlin in his room, watching over him, sometimes apologizing for what had happened. Arthur had told him it wasn't his fault, but Elyan didn't listen. Arthur couldn't stand to stay with Merlin for long and eventually settled on sitting by the small staircase leading up to his room instead, the door open just enough for Arthur to be able to see Elyan sitting against the wall. Gaius sat by his bench, half focused on a book and some of the work that was yet to be finished. Gaius didn't speak to any of them, and the quiet night turned to morning after what seemed like an eternity.

The peace was disrupted when Gwaine waltzed into the physician's chambers, asking for Merlin.

"One of the maids was asking for him," Gwaine said, and Arthur looked at Gaius and then back at Gwaine when it became clear that the physician would not explain what was going on. Arthur stood up and went over to Gwaine. Almost wanting the knight's response to be punching him in the face. He deserved that.

"I used the truth serum," Arthur said, and Gwaine's face dropped as he realized that Arthur spoke of this freely in the presence of Gaius, because it had gone wrong.

"What happened?"

"It-"

"It poisoned him," Elyan interrupted as he emerged from Merlin's room, "He barely survived."

Gwaine looked between the two of them, waiting for the punchline to the joke, but was slowly forced to realize that they were speaking the truth. As he did, he pushed past them to get to Merlin. Arthur and Elyan didn't follow him, merely looked at each other, surprised that Gwaine's first instinct hadn't been to throw a punch. It usually was.

Gwaine stayed with Merlin for roughly ten minutes before he came back out, not stopping as he left the room: "Fetch me when he wakes up," he said on his way out, "You know where I will be." And with that he was gone. Arthur promised himself that if Merlin hadn't woken within a day, he would at least stop Gwaine from drinking himself to death.

Another hour passed, Arthur and Elyan still unsure what to do with themselves and startled as Guinevere burst through the door looking for Gaius.

"Lancelot's party returned," she panted, trying to regain her breath, talking rapidly to Gaius and possibly not even having registered the two other people in the room, "But sir Lucan is badly injured. Lancelot is bringing him here."

"What manner of injury, Gwen?" Gaius asked as he cleared his work bench for sir Lucan.

"A stab wound in the leg," she informed, still slightly out of it, "But it's been some time. Lancelot said that it's probably infected, even though they tried to keep it clean."

"I'll examine it. For now, fetch me some water. Take your brother with you, and bring me a bowl of hot water as well."

Gwen spun around and finally looked at Elyan and Arthur, who were awkwardly stood to the side, "What…?" She began, but then snapped out of it as she just grabbed her brother, sprinting down to get the water.

"Sire," Gaius began, "If you won't leave, stay with Merlin. We don't want this place to get crowded." It was Gaius' polite manner of telling him that since he couldn't assist, he should just leave. Arthur did as he was told, and closed the door to Merlin's room just as he heard more people entering the physician's quarters. Arthur leaned against the door, listening to what was happening on the other side of it.

"Put him down here," Gaius instructed, "What happened?"

"This was yesterday," Lancelot began, "We decided to take a detour on the way back, through the forest of Ascetir. There had been signs of sorcery only a week before and though we had been investigating during the harvest, Lord Agravaine needed us to stay close, so a thorough investigation was never allowed. As it would delay our arrival in Camelot only by an hour or so, I convinced Lord Agravaine to let us investigate on our way back. I didn't expect us to find anything, but it was worth a try. At least it would put the citizens at ease, as they had been too frightened to even venture close to the forest.

As we searched through the forest, sirs Lucan and Kay went off on their own. I urged them to stay together, but they must have separated for Lucan suddenly let out a scream, while Kay was both uninjured and had no idea of what had happened. We hurried back as quickly as we could, kept the wound clean, but it's been almost a day now."

"Do not blame yourself, Lancelot. Sir Lucan is a knight of Camelot, being injured comes with the job."

"I just can't help but feel that there was more I could have done."

"Lancelot..." Arthur was immediately on his feet and rushing to Merlin's side, as his servant seemed to slowly regain consciousness, the name of his most honorable knight on his lips. It took Merlin a moment, but he slowly opened his eyes and looked directly at Arthur, before he immediately looked away, "Leave," he spat weakly, trying to turn his head away from the prince, and while Arthur wanted nothing more than to stay and talk, apologize for what he had done, he stepped away.

"My lord?" Lancelot said as Arthur emerged from Merlin's room, taking the knight by surprise.

"He woke up," Arthur informed Gaius, "And he's asking for Lancelot."

"Woke up? What's going on?"

"He was poisoned," Arthur explained as Gaius moved past him to get to Merlin, leaving the two of them alone.

"How?" Lancelot was getting more distressed by the second. Learning that Merlin had gotten hurt, while he was away on a mission, where he already blamed himself for an injured knight wouldn't be easy on his mind, and Arthur was about to make it so much worse. Arthur had always wondered, if Lancelot was forced to choose between him and Merlin, who would be cast away? Under the current circumstances, Lancelot's choice shouldn't be difficult.

"I made a mistake," Arthur began, "I wanted him to talk, got my hands on a truth serum and used it on him. It backfired."

The look on Lancelot's face was somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. He looked at Arthur for a while, before pushing past him and joining Gaius in Merlin's room. It wasn't like Lancelot to act on anger, or even show his anger, but more than anything, Arthur really wished that someone would just punch him. Punish him, free him from this hellish situation and just give him the push to do something about it.

Arthur looked down at sir Lucan on the patient's bed. His wound had been treated, and though it looked like he had a fever, he didn't look in pain. Arthur should demand reports from Lancelot and Agravaine, figure out what had happened on the mission, but Arthur wasn't in the right headspace to do so. Instead, he left the physician's chambers and headed towards the Darkling Woods with nothing but his sword and a small empty basket.

Arthur came back hours later, and the first person he bumped into was none other than Leon.

"Sire!" He exclaimed as the two crossed paths in a hallway, "Where have you been? The king has been asking for you."

"Doesn't matter," Arthur said, "Inform him that I won't be available for the rest of the day."

"Sire?" Leon asked, more concerned than before, "What's going on?"

"Nothing the king needs to worry about." At some point, Arthur would let Leon in on what had happened, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to tell more people.

Before Arthur made it all the way back to the physician's quarters, he met Guinevere who was just leaving, possibly after having assisted Gaius (After Morgana had left, her duties had varied depending on where the castle was the busiest, and if you wanted to find her, going to Gaius was the best guess). Of course, when Arthur said that he met Guinevere, he meant more the sort of; they bumped into each other and after taking one look at him, she walked up to him, anger apparent in her features and firmly slapped him so hard he thought he heard ringing in his ears. She looked like she had something to say, but decided against it, wanting Arthur to know he wasn't even worthy of hearing her voice - even if what she would have said would surely have been nothing good - and left him alone on the staircase leading up to his destination.

"I see you met Gwen," Gaius commented as Arthur entered through the door. At first, the comment confused the prince, until he reached up to the cheek she had struck and found it sore. There was probably a red mark in the shape of her hand.

"Is he awake?" Arthur asked carefully, and put the now filled basket on the table before removing his sword to put it away. He wanted to look as harmless as possible.

"He is," Gaius said, his back turned to the king, not wanting to give him attention, "But I can't promise that he wants to see you."

"I can imagine," Arthur said, trying to force a smile. It didn't work, "I just want to explain what happened. Even if what I did wasn't honorable, at least I want him to know that killing him was not the intent."

"If he was smart,, he would know that already," Gaius remarked, and Arthur managed a small, real smile.

"But he's an idiot," Arthur answered, and took the basket as he headed up to Merlin's room.

Arthur entered the small room and found his servant sitting, leaning against the wall, his feet covered by the blanket, but his knees loosely tucked up to his chest, his arms falling weakly around them. He looked at Arthur as he entered, but looked away just as quickly. Arthur didn't expect forgiveness to come easy, if at all. The crime he had committed was no better than what had happened. Often death was better than betrayal, and Merlin surely thought that. If his reluctance to speak to Arthur came on the cause of thinking his prince wanted him dead, Arthur could hardly imagine what he would think when he learned the truth.

Arthur had never been a man of words, much preferring to show himself through actions and sat down the small basket by the end of the bed, Merlin hardly acknowledging it.

"It's blueberries," Arthur said, gaining no visual reaction from his servant - if he even was that anymore. Perhaps, Arthur feared, that if Merlin decided to stay, that was all he would be. Maybe he wouldn't even be Arthur's.

"Why are you here Arthur?" Merlin asked coldly, never looking at him, his gaze fixed at the small window which revealed the bright blue, cloudless sky. "Here to finish the job? Is that what those berries are for? Or perhaps you wanted me to survive so I would suffer," There was a slight hint of sarcasm in his tone, but it wasn't how Merlin usually talked. He talked like he was a prisoner, taunting his guards to kill him as he would never give them what they wanted anyway.

"I always took you for a merciful executioner," Merlin continued, the disappointment and spite in his voice reminding Arthur of how his father talked about the knights of the round table, "Perhaps I was wrong about that too."

Arthur didn't know what words would be the best to choose. He had hoped Merlin would give him a more silent treatment, letting Arthur speak freely. That was what Merlin usually did when he was upset. He was quiet. Arthur felt like a fool for thinking he could predict what Merlin would do. Hadn't these last few weeks, months even, shown Arthur that he didn't know his servant as well as he thought he did? Merlin didn't give Arthur a chance to think about what to say, as he kept the defying tone of voice with which he stripped away all the courage and confidence Arthur had tried to take with him as he had first entered into this conversation.

"Are you going to burn me?" Merlin asked so casually, Arthur thought that couldn't possibly have been what Merlin has said. He didn't sound afraid, only slightly disapproving. Both of them hated the pyre, Merlin knew that, so why would he think Arthur would have it in him to burn him?

"Why would I burn you?" Arthur voiced his thoughts, truly perplexed by Merlin's thought process, not even wanting to think about Merlin in the flames, about Arthur being the one to have put him there.

Merlin didn't answer. Didn't even so much as move or change his expression, which Arthur couldn't read. His lips pressed in a thin line, but the rest of his pale face unbothered, like he had somehow accepted his fate. A fate Arthur was unaware of.

Arthur carefully took a step closer to the bed. Merlin still didn't react, so Arthur said what he had been meaning to say all along: "I'm sorry." That gave him a reaction, but not quite the one he had wanted. Merlin huffed, and let out a short and forced laugh, making him sound distant and detached. Nothing like the usual bright laugh, Arthur had grown so used to.

"For what?" Merlin said when he stopped laughing, "Not killing me faster?"

"No, Merlin," Arthur said, raising his voice slightly as he got a little fed up with how this conversation was developing, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Merlin made another sarcastic sound. Not believing Arthur for a second. "What. So you just grabbed the first poison you could find and hoped it would kill me quickly? You should just have run me through. Then I wouldn't have survived and you wouldn't have to be here."

Arthur clenched his fist. He needed to clear up this misunderstanding and he needed Merlin to tell him why he was so hellbent on thinking that Arthur wanted him dead. He closed the space between them, kneeling in front of the bed, partially blocking Merlin's view to the mirror, hoping to get his message across. Of course, Merlin still refused to look at him.

"Merlin. I didn't want you dead," he said firmly, "I don't now and I doubt that I ever will."

"Why not?" Merlin questioned, like he wanted Arthur to consider just running him through, "I lie, I keep secrets and I've lost the trust I spend so long trying to gain. What use do you have for me? Especially now? Anyone could do your laundry, sharpen your sword, clean your damn room and whatever servants need to do. If that's all I'll end up becoming, then there is no point. And that's not even touching the-" Merlin breathed in sharply, stopping himself from continuing.

"Merlin. Listen to me," Arthur tried again, but Merlin kept interrupting him.

"I am listening."

"No, you're not. Just shut up and let me explain. I won't claim that I tried to do something honorable, because I didn't. I just wanted you to tell the truth for once. I hadn't even intended for you to tell me everything, just the most important things. What I put in your drink was a truth serum, and it almost killed you. I am sorry for what happened and I am sorry for betraying your trust. It wasn't right. Even if you hadn't almost died. It wasn't right."

Merlin looked at Arthur for the first time. It didn't look like Merlin was necessarily believing him, more like he needed to look at Arthur's face to confirm whether or not he was being truthful. Merlin had always been good at reading Arthur, so he would know that Arthur had spoken nothing but the truth.

"So you..." Merlin began slowly, his voice a mere whisper, "You don't know anything?" For the first time, Merlin's voice bore no trace of hatred or anger. Arthur felt a little more at ease.

"I wouldn't say I know nothing," Arthur joked, trying to build on the improving atmosphere, "But no, I don't know anything. Especially not anything I would want you dead over."

Merlin kept eye contact for another second before turning away again, trying to focus on the window once again.

"Merlin," Arthur pressed on, "I can understand if you don't trust me right now, but that doesn't make it any less important that you tell me about Agravaine. If not for me, then for the rest of Camelot. Your friends, Lancelot, Gwaine, Gaius."

"No," Merlin said weakly, "I can't." This time Arthur knew that Merlin's voice was strained because he didn't want to cry. He knew what Arthur said made sense, yet he still did not speak. Whether it was because of what Arthur had done or something else, the prince couldn't know, but he would like to think there was an underlying reason. More than Merlin just not having the proof he wanted.

"What do you think will happen, Merlin? Do you really think I would kill you for being honest with me?"

"No," Merlin sighed, "Not now. You would feel bad because of what happened. You could still banish me."

Again, banishment. Merlin's biggest fear.

"Even after what I did," Arthur said slowly, "You still want to stay."

"Yes."

Arthur was about to continue, but Merlin cut him off.

"Please leave," he said, "I need to think."

Arthur wanted to protest, but wanted to respect Merlin's wishes. He had done what he needed to do. Let Merlin know the truth. What he did with that was up to him. "Don't forget the blueberries," he said on his way out, closing the door behind him.

Since Merlin was now awake and able to talk, Arthur decided to go and get Gwaine. It hadn't yet been a day, so the knight probably hadn't reduced his lifespan considerably during the time he had been there, but Arthur should stop him before it ended up that way. He met Lancelot on the way or, rather, Lancelot had been patiently waiting for him not too far from the physician's chambers.

"Do you remember when I first came to Camelot?" Lancelot began as he fell into step with Arthur, likely knowing that he was on his way to stop Gwaine's drinking and not wanting to delay him, but still needed his attention.

"I do," Arthur replied, not quite sure where Lancelot was going with this, although he was sure it was leading into some kind of lecture about honor and, quite specifically, Merlin.

"I broke the knight's code," Lancelot continued, "Even if the rule that commoners cannot become knights is unjust, the fact that I lied about my identity was dishonorable."

"Which is why you left," Arthur remembered. If he had had his way, Lancelot would never have been revoked of his knighthood back then. He had always been one of the best people Arthur knew.

"Yes, sire," Lancelot said, Arthur almost taken aback by the formality as everyone else who knew of the Merlin situation had seemingly dropped them, "I needed to prove myself, become someone worth your trust and loyalty."

"You already were," Arthur insisted. He understood why Lancelot had done what he had done, but he didn't quite agree with it. Lancelot should have stayed.

"I wasn't. I lied to get what I wanted. I lied to you and to the king, the people with whom I should always be honest. Dishonesty should not be taken lightly," Lancelot said firmly, "My actions proved that I was more concerned about myself than about Camelot. My loyalties were divided, and as with anyone who serves you, loyalty should, above all, be most important."

"Of course," Arthur agreed. This was about Merlin. Merlin who was loyal to a fault and didn't deserve any of the things Arthur had done to him. This was Lancelot's way of telling Arthur that he had messed up.

"When I came, I lied and I didn't show my loyalty," Lancelot repeated, like he was writing a perfect report, "No matter who they claim to be, do not trust people who haven't shown you loyalty." Arthur's eyes widened. This wasn't about Merlin. This was about Agravaine. Had something happened on the mission? Arthur was about to ask, but seeing that he was, Lancelot stopped him. "Trust the people who have."

They went to the tavern together, finding Gwaine alone in a corner, looking like he had been there for a full week. The sun was beginning to set, so after Gwaine had paid Merlin a small visit, Arthur would sent him straight to his chambers. Going by Gwaine's state, Arthur should probably also ban him from going to the tavern for the next month.

"This isn't your fault," Arthur told him on their way back, Lancelot supporting most of Gwaine's weight as they moved, "It was my decision to use it."

"I should have stopped you," Gwaine merely replied, his lively tone of voice completely gone, "You always have the worst ideas."

Before Arthur could open the door to the physician's chambers, Elyan appeared, apparently just leaving. He looked at the three of them, figuring out their situation quickly and then looked to Arthur, and gestured to his cheek, "I see that you met Gwen too."

Arthur instinctively moved his hand to his cheek. It was still sore. Sometimes he forgot how strong Guinevere was.

"You know," Elyan said, acting more like himself that he had just that morning, "Even though Merlin insists that at least Gwaine and I shouldn't be to blame, I don't think he'll be able to convince Gwen of the same. You should be careful Gwaine. She'll probably come for you next."

"We should just be thankful that Percival isn't the one doing the hitting," he tried to joke, but it still came out a little flat.

"Speaking of Percival," Lancelot said, "Should we inform him and sir Leon?"

"Gaius said not to," Elyan informed them, "They'll want to visit and he doesn't want Merlin to feel crowded. We can tell them in a couple of days."

And with that, Arthur left Gwaine in Lancelot's care, and returned to his own chambers, where he hadn't been since he had poisoned Merlin. It felt weird to come back. The shattered glass was still lying where Merlin had dropped it, the liquid from the wine having spread and left stains on the floor. There was Arthur's glass, still intact on the table, and in the closed cabinet, there would be an empty vial, hidden from anyone who might have entered. At the time, merely hidden from Merlin. Arthur found a dirty shirt and used it to clean up the broken glass, and had a nameless servant dispose of it together with Arthur's untouched glass.

Getting ready for bed, Arthur noticed a stack of documents on his desk and looked through them, not remembering having left anything out. They turned out to be reports from Lancelot and Agravaine. Arthur got into bed, not thinking about the fact that he had had nothing but a couple of blueberries to eat that day and read the reports. Lancelot's was thorough and well documented. Arthur skimmed through the tedious tales of the harvest and skipped to the first sighting of magic.

Lancelot's description matched what the woman had told them. A bright red cloud had been spotted covering the forest and it had lasted half the night. Under Agravaine's orders, they had spend a few hours gathering up the citizens, making sure everyone was safe before investigating. They had split up in teams of three, Lancelot and Agravine leading one each. Lancelot's party had found nothing that could explain the cause of the red smoke, and after half an hour in the forest it disappeared, quickly, as if it had never been there at all.

Arthur compared the description to Agravaine's report. It was practically the same. They had protected the citizens, gone to investigate, Agravaine had taken sirs Lucan and Kay with him, but they had found nothing as they had searched, and eventually the smoke had cleared.

The following days, Lancelot had repeatedly asked for permission to search the forest, but Agravaine had denied him permission. This was not mentioned in Agravaine's report.

During their journey towards Camelot, Lancelot had finally gotten permission to do a quick search, but their efforts had been cut short as sir Lucan had been injured, the circumstances unknown. This was the same in both reports. Arthur would have Kay write up a report of the incident. If Lancelot had ordered them to stick together, any knight of Camelot would respect the word of the knight assigned to lead them. And Arthur knew that Kay, at the very least, wasn't a pure-blood. The young man would quite often spar against Percival during training, and got along well with Elyan, often riding close to him on missions.

Lucan on the hand was a pure-blood. His father, a close friend of Uther's, held many of the same beliefs as the king, and Lucan definitely shared many of those views. The first time he had been on a mission with a round table knight as his commander, they had gotten in a fight. Gwaine had promptly broken his nose, and Arthur had banned him from the tavern for three days as a punishment. As a friend who didn't actually think Gwaine had been too out of line, he had paid for his next trip to the tavern. It had been an expensive gesture, but he was the crown prince. He could afford it.

The reports weren't so different that there was anything inherently suspicious about it. Which made a lot of sense. If Agravaine was up to anything, he would hardly make it easy for Arthur to notice. For now, he could only be extra vigilant when it came to his uncle.

Arthur was woken the next morning by yet another new servant. He ate a plentiful breakfast to make up for the lack of food from the day before, and gathered all the fruits on a plate to bring with him to Gaius. He asked the servant to bring him blankets and a few pillows, which he then brought with him as well. Now that the harvest was over, it was getting colder and though material gifts were not exactly what Merlin wanted or needed, Arthur still felt that he deserved to be more comfortable.

"Oh great," Merlin said as Arthur entered his room, "You're back." Though his voice was sarcastic, Arthur was glad to hear that it wasn't as cold as yesterday.

"I thought you would like this," Arthur said and set down the pillows and blankets by the foot of the bed and shoved the plate of fruit into Merlin's hands.

"Thanks," Merlin answered, his voice still slightly sarcastic, but reached for a raspberry immediately.

"Not scared that it's poison anymore?" Arthur joked, and Merlin sent him a death glare.

"Shut up."

"You can't tell me what to do," Arthur said automatically, "I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to tell the truth. No lies, but you can choose not to answer."

Merlin rolled his eyes, "And here I thought you were here for a friendly visit and not an interrogation."

"You could consider it both," Arthur suggested, and got no reply. He continued: "The scar. The one I saw on our way to Mercia. Where did you get it?"

"I already told you," Merlin said as a matter of fact, "In the Darkling Woods."

"Yes, but that doesn't really tell me much, besides," Arthur continued, "I'm beginning to think that's a lie."

"Congratulations," Merlin said fakely and clapped his hands twice, "I lied about the woods. The truth is that I don't know how I got it. Aren't you happy that you know the truth now?"

"What do you mean you don't know?" Arthur asked perplexed. Arthur had a story behind every single one of his scars. Knew exactly how and where he had gotten them, what lesson he had learned, how he had grown stronger.

"I mean exactly that. I get hurt often and at some point I don't care to remember all of it. What's the point?"

Arthur wanted to say that the point was to stop from getting hurt again, but he knew what was going on. Merlin didn't get hurt because he was a warrior who was bested in a fight, Merlin got hurt to prevent Arthur from getting hurt. Merlin often said that Arthur wouldn't last a day without him, and Arthur was beginning to see the truth behind those words. Ironic how Merlin so willingly spilled the truth when Arthur didn't listen.

"What about the shoulder scar? The one Percival saw?"

"Serkets," Merlin said simply. It was like Arthur had suspected, but that just begged the question:

"How did you survive?"

"An old friend helped me," Merlin said crytically, and while Arthur knew that that meant he wasn't going to elaborate, he tried his luck anyway.

"Who?"

"His name is Kilgharrah."

"That sounds made up."

"Well, it's the truth," Merlin said and popped another raspberry into his mouth.

"And what about Agravaine?" Arthur asked, returning to the topic that kept tearing them apart.

"I told you. I have no evidence," Merlin said, seemingly unbothered by the topic. Perhaps the near death experience had made it harder to stir him up.

"Yet you still think he works for Morgana," Arthur pointed out, done with the lies. If he wanted Merlin to be honest with him, the least he could do was to tell him everything too.

"How did you-"

"I overheard you and Agravaine. You accused him of working for her," Arthur said simply. Eavesdropping could hardly be worse than accidentally poisoning Merlin in an attempt to force the truth out of him, so he didn't mind telling him.

Merlin got a weird look on his face, like Arthur puzzled him. "If you knew, why did you keep asking?"

"I wanted to know why you think that. You aren't one to think the worst of people, so he must have done something."

"He hasn't," Merlin said, "That's the problem. If he had done something, I could tell you. Just... I have a feeling."

"That's not enough-"

"Oh gee, thanks for letting me know that not having evidence is the problem here."

"It's not enough, but if you think I shouldn't trust him I won't. Merlin, if it ever came down to a choice between you and my uncle, I'd be a fool to not choose you."

Merlin looked him the eyes. His eyes were glossy and full of disbelief, but were slowly turning into something Arthur could only describe as wonder, "Do you really mean that?"

"I keep telling you. You're the worst damn servant I've ever had, so why do you think I keep you around?"

"Because my jokes are funny," Merlin smiled carefully. It was the first smile Arthur had seen since…

"They're not that funny," Arthur said, "I keep you because you're my friend. The first one I ever had. A friend who gives me great advice, who would follow me into battle with no armor and a sword you can't even use correctly, and who is loyal to a fault. I've faced bandits, enemy knights, magical beasts and an actual dragon, and you were right there beside me through all of it. What kind of friend would I be to cast that aside?"

Merlin's smile faltered a little, and Arthur could only wonder why. That was the nicest thing Arthur had ever said to him, maybe even to anyone.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," Merlin said and looked down, his fingers fiddling with the blanket draped over his legs, "I don't want to lie to you."

"I know," Arthur said, "But I can understand why you feel it's necessary."

"No I..." Merlin said, like he was working up the courage to say something, "I haven't been completely honest about that either. There's more. I was... scared."

"Of banishment? Yes, you've mentioned that a couple of times."

"No. I was scared of you. Of everyone. I've always been told not to tell anyone."

That made Arthur stop and think. He had always been told not to tell? Always? Something wasn't adding up, but Merlin seemed to still be working up his courage, and Arthur knew that Merlin was braver than anyone, so he didn't speak. Merlin reached out for Arthur and took his hand. Arthur thought it was to keep himself grounded as Merlin took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"You told me," Merlin said slowly, "That you would choose me. That nothing I could do would make you want me dead."

"Yes," Arthur confirmed, bracing himself for absolutely everything Merlin could possibly say now. That Merlin had forced Morgana to turn evil. That Merlin had tried to kill him once. That Merlin was a secret spy sent by an enemy kingdom. That Merlin had released the great dragon. The Merlin had somehow been the reason for his mother's death. Arthur prepared himself for everything, knowing that something Merlin would keep locked away, hidden and refusing to share even if it could cost him his life, would have to be something that would change Arthur's entire worldview.

"Everything I do," Merlin continued, his voice shaking ever so slightly, "I do for you Arthur. You know that right?"

"Yes," Arthur said again, and Merlin squeezed his hand before letting go again.

"Please. Please don't think differently of me."

Arthur looked down at the hand Merlin had let go of, feeling a weight that hadn't been there before. Gold and red met his eyes, as he looked at the rose in his hand that had definitely appeared out of thin air.

#bbc merlin #i'm yours #chapter 9 #chapter nine

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epilogued · 4 years ago

Text

🦇 Headcanon ― [ Bruce Wayne ] 🦇

Does Bruce Wayne pretend to be Batman, or does Batman pretend to be Bruce Wayne?

Both are masks. Both are his real face. Bruce is very good at compartmentalizing― but not perfect. Certain aspects of both personas leak into one another.

Batman is less humorless than he appears, making jokes whenever an appropriate moment (to him) arises. His deadpan tone, general lack of expression, intimidating appearance, and very particular sense of humor cause many of his witticisms to go unnoticed. On more than one occasion, Batman has defeated the Joker by predicting the demented clown’s punchline long before its intended delivery.

Bruce Wayne isn’t grim like Batman, but he’s known to occasionally lapse into moments of solemnity or deep sadness, an after effect of seeing his parents die so violently. All the money in the world can’t fix that kind of trauma.

――

Bruce Wayne is known not just as a playboy philanthropist, but as something of an eccentric. It’s his most effective method of hiding his vigilante activities; any suspicious behavior as Bruce tends to get waved off as more Wayne-brand eccentricity. Like all good lies, it’s based in the truth.

Bruce Wayne has strange hobbies. He’s known to possess an eclectic mix of seemingly random skills― knowledge of the mating habits of endangered birds, for example, or expertise in close-up magic. He claims that he had a lot of free time in his twenties, being an excessively rich man with zero responsibilities. Such free time, he says, no longer exists: Bruce is too busy with Wayne Enterprises, his philanthropic work, and raising his children.

Bruce Wayne is far more sociable than Batman, but he’s still not the best with people. Where Batman is brusque and rude, Bruce is uncomfortably honest. He acts like someone who never really developed a filter, thanks to his unbelievably affluent lifestyle. There’s a YouTube compilation of Bruce Wayne interviews, wherein he derails them with unexpected answers, tangents, or by interviewing the interviewer right back. It has 3+ million views and is over twenty minutes long.

Bruce, generally speaking, only has proper social skills when he’s pretending to be an entirely different person.

An example of his “eccentric” reputation in action: Bruce was once caught with an extremely powerful camera on his person, the sort that wasn’t even commercially available yet. His excuse? He had bought it for birdwatching. To Gotham, buying an outlandishly expensive camera to take photos of birds sounds exactly like something Bruce Wayne would do between fundraiser galas and dates with supermodels. As a precaution, he had already set an array of well-composed bird photos in the camera’s storage, should anyone question his claim.

――

Who is he, if Bruce Wayne and Batman are both mixes of honesty and fiction?

The “truest” Bruce, perhaps, is the man he is when he’s alone with his family and closest friends. A person who lies somewhere between the two extremes of the Bat and the man.

#muse ― [ bruce wayne ]#hc. ― [ bruce wayne ]#libel ― [ headcanon ]

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radreactions · 7 years ago

Note

The companions react to sole finding a Ouija board and persuades them to play it? Love your blog btw!

Thanks friend! I’ve actually tried one of those things with a group of friends and let me tell ya. THE most anti-climatic moment of my life. Like, I was kinda hoping for some howling ghosts and slamming doors but the scariest thing that happened that night was when we thought we were out of alcohol XD

Enjoy!

Ada – She doubted the credibility of such activity, but was actually quite interested in whether or not it would work. Her past friends had avoided the use of such a board, none of them telling her why, so as a precaution she readied her flamethrower and prepared to guard Sole and their other companion should the need arise.

Cait – Rolls her eyes and goes along with it just for the hell of it. She did plan on scaring Sole later, but she thinks Sole has beaten her to the punchline because her beer moved slowly across the table and neither of them touched it nor was it attached to any string or magnet. She would never admit it, but that low key freaked her out.

Codsworth – “Oh sir/mum, I do hope you are simply acting out this ridiculous pastime because you are bored. Do tell me you don’t believe in some ridiculous conviction that ghosts are real.” He chuckles quietly when they persist in doing so with another companion and goes to finish off the rest of his chores, but he does dial his sensor up to the maximum. For Sole’s benefit of course.

Curie – “Oh, we should…not play with the Ouija board, yes?” Because Sole is so adamant on using it, Curie reluctantly goes along with it, sitting very close to Sole and jumping at every sound or movement. Sole purposefully moved the pointer, which had Curie snatch her hand back and gasp in horror, much to Sole’s amusement. For days after she is skittish and needs constant reassurance from Sole that no ghosts will get her, even though she is adamant that they are a scientific impossibility.

Danse – He wasn’t quite sure what to think at first and just went along with Sole more out of confusion than anything else. But when they told him they were trying to communicate with spirits, Danse actually laughed. “Is this some pre-war version of a joke? I can’t believe this, Sole. Go ahead, communicate with your spirits.” He can’t help but chuckle again.

Deacon – “Oh I did this once. The spirit that was communicating with me told me its name was Bugs and it was actually a carrot eating rabbit. Whatever that is.” He says it so seriously and so matter-of-factly, that Sole can’t tell if he’s being honest or not.

Gage –The raider actually laughs out loud, shaking his head and laughing some more. “Really, boss? You really believe in all that crap?” He laughs again and agrees to join them, mostly because he can make fun of them while they’re doing it. He’s seen some crazy shit while outside of Nuka World and in the Commonwealth, but communicating spirits?? Now that he’d have to see to believe.

Hancock – Being the outgoing and adventurous man that he is, Hancock would easily agree to use the board with Sole. He actually hopes they are successful, saying how awesome it would be to have a real life spirit to talk to them. Although his tune would quickly change if the thing actually moved on its own accord.

MacCready – The mercenary chuckles immediately, remembering all those times in Little Lamplight when he used their Ouija board and scared the crap out of the other Lamplighters with a series of creative, spooky pranks. He eagerly agrees to join Sole, already planning just how he can scare them too.

Maxson – He thought they were joking at first, that they were trying lamely to make him laugh, but now that he knows they’re serious, well…he can’t say that he’s impressed. Although he’s not a tyrant, he does try to ensure that every Brotherhood member takes life seriously and joking around playing games with ‘spirits’ is certainly not what he had in mind. Depending on how liquored up he is though, Sole might be able to convince him to play along.

Nick Valentine – Some of the things Sole comes up with never ceases to amaze the old synth. Especially when it came down to their fascination with all things supernatural – as if the monsters in the Commonwealth weren’t enough excitement in life. He humours them anyway and sits down next to them, silently wondering if him being a synth would have an impact on the results. He’s not scared at all, believing it to be a hoax, but in the same token he doesn’t want to spoil Sole’s fun.

Old Longfellow – “Oh these things don’t really work, Captain! I can’t tell ya how many times I used one back in the day with this girl I liked. Each and every time, I moved it, and she believed it every damn time.” He breaks out into a soft chuckle. “Let’s see here, if somethin’ really is there, what is your name?” He winks at Sole confidently but his smirk quickly gets wiped away when the pointer moves – without him meaning to.

Piper Wright – “Pfft. Blue, seriously?? There’s no such things as ghosts. You’re wasting your time.” She sits down with Sole anyway and plays along, blushing now and then because it requires her hand on top of Blue’s for the most part. She did get the fright of her life though, when Nat came in quietly and slammed the door to the Publick which had both her and Sole jump and scream in surprise. Later – when she’s trying to sleep – she pulls the blankets up to her chin and is hyper aware of every noise in the office.

Preston Garvey – Uh uh. Hell no. Preston is not going anywhere near the damn Ouija board. He’s scared of very few things in the Commonwealth, the top of that list is losing his loved ones and friends, but following in at a very close second is the supernatural. It probably stemmed from when he was a young lad, when the other Minutemen used to tell ghost stories around the campfire at night just before he went to his sleeping bag.

X6-88 – He knew the whole thing was bogus before Sole even set it up, so he decided to have a little fun with it. He placed his hand on the pointer first before Sole’s and without a flicker of emotion, he moved the pointer slowly and smoothly to spell out the most terrifying answers to Sole’s questions he could think of. Surprisingly, Sole believed it and didn’t see the smirk on X6’s lips when they were reluctant to leave the room without him.

#fallout 4 #ada #cait #codsworth #curie #danse #deacon #gage #porter gage #hancock #maccready #maxson #nick valentine #old longfellow #piper wright #preston garvey #x6-88 #companion reactions #companions react

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hereissomestuffiwrote · 4 years ago

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2020 Hyundai Elantra

Rental cars are so great- it’s like getting to sidestep your daily driver for a car mistress, or car gigolo. Not that I have any desire to do such a thing, as I’m in a perfectly healthy relationship with an older Volkswagen. But she needed a few days off, and with this virus business I didn’t wanna Uber, so a rental it would have to be. Wanting to save money to put towards the Jetta’s possible costly maintenance, I first checked Turo, which was crazy cheap, but all they had available were a bunch of 2012 Fiat 500s. Fun fact- when my Honda got stolen in 2012 I tried to rent a car from a company through my insurance- all they had available was a then brand new Fiat 500, but they couldn’t let me rent it they said, because it kept breaking down on them. Back in 2012. So no thanks on the same car eight year later. I moved on to Enterprise, and I decided to go with the lowest-priced deal possible, which promised a Mitsubishi Mirage or similar. I’m furloughed at the moment, so this thing would just have to get me home from and then back to my mechanic’s. I could deal with an economy car just for that.

The plan was to meet the rental agent at the repair shop where I was leaving my car, sign some stuff, and then take off in the Mirage or similar. Wanting to socially isolate as much as possible, I decided to wait in my car until the rental agent and the employee who was driving them back to their office both showed up. First, I saw a brand new Hyundai Elantra with out of state plates and a barcode on the windshield pull into a spot. I figured that was the shuttle back, so I got out of my car, figuring my rental was right behind the Hyundai. And sure enough, moments later a Chevy Sonic pulled up. A Sonic is similar to a Mirage, right? I immediately noticed that the Sonic was absolutely filthy and kinda dented up, which, whatever, I’m renting from the bottom shelf, but also that the driver was an elderly man with no face mask. Huh. Well, okay. “Is that mine?” I cheerfully asked the man, who looked back at me completely bewildered. “No” he said gruffly, and then started taking some boxes out of his back seat. Oh man, should I have upgraded to Compact or Standard? Could Economy really be this bad? But just then- “Excuse me, sir?”, I heard from the direction of the Hyundai, “I’m with Enterprise! We have your car right over here!” It turns out they upgraded me two full vehicle classes- score! So the Elantra was mine, the rental agent’s shuttle was a Chrysler Pacifica that rolled up a few minutes later, and that dirty Sonic was a parts delivery guy. Oops.

Even though I have a perfectly valid credit card and a perfectly legitimate checking account, when I signed the Enterprise agent’s iPad iFelt like Preston in Blank Check pulling off one of his many bullshit “Mr. Macintosh” transactions. Like, handing over a piece of plastic and scribbling incoherently with my finger on a tablet screen = unlimited access to a brand new motor vehicle? Whaaaat? But it seriously was that easy! Plus, COVID-19 precautions meant my agent just straight up left the keys in the ignition with the car running- one less point of contagion. He was super nice though, and wiped down everything before leaving the car to me. Of course, I pretended that we were both criminals and he was cleaning his fingerprints off a getaway car before handing it over to me for disposal. I also kept thinking about the rental car scene in the awesome buddy-comedy My Fellow Americans in which a little Hyundai is used as a punchline-

Spoiler alert- things go really, really well with the Lexus-

Jesus, what was it with abusing rental cars in 80′s and 90′s comedies? The poor things got less than no respect.

Insane that twenty-four years later, the two brands really aren’t a whole lot different anymore. Side by side, my brand new Elantra and a Lexus IS don’t even look particularly dissimilar from one another, save for the latter one’s more pronounced gaping O face. Even with a more staid design, the Hyundai certainly doesn’t at all appear notably goofier or cheaper in comparison.

Once inside, the Elantra seemed like a nice enough place. I went to grab a CD out of the Jetta (Yes, like a grandpa I still listen to compact discs in the car, don’t judge) and then realized upon closer inspection that the Elantra didn’t even have a CD slot. Since I couldn’t understand the deal with the satellite radio- it seemed to me like the previous renter had only activated five stations, and they were all Catholic talk radio stations- I just defaulted to my favorite local FM channel. Whenever I’ve been given a rental car in the past, I compulsively have to see how loud the volume on the stereo will go before it starts hurting my ears. And I’m happy to report that the Elantra was capable of boosting “High” by The Cure to an acceptably window-shaking volume. With that important business out of the way, I could see what else was up with this car. It had a sportshift kinda gear box, I guess Hyundai’s is called SHIFTRONIC®.

I messed around with it, it seemed responsive. Downshifts really did slow the car considerably, and upshifts seemed to make it go faster, but I don’t know, my foot was also on the gas, so maybe it was just a placebo effect? Either way, I’m a big fan of manumatics- it’s always good to look down and see the little S and the plus/minus. It’s a welcome bonus touch, like when a deli sandwich comes with a pickle. Even if you’re never going to want or use that pickle, it’s just nice someone made the effort.

Next, I needed to push this “Drive Mode” button and see what that did. Sadly, hitting it did not cause toothpicks to dispense from the sun visor and “Nightcall” by Kavinsky to boom over the sound system, lame. But, instead, it pulled up this dope TRON-esque graphic of the Elantra on the touch screen-

I just love it when digital renderings of cars appear on their dash screens. Second only to visual equalizers, they’re my favorite completely unnecessary yet supremely cool thing that a display can offer me. The fun cartoon in the Elantra explained that I had the choice of three modes- Smart, Normal and Sport. The Catholic talk radio renter had been driving it in Normal, no surprise there. I was on the highway at this point, so I decided to get crazy and punch it into Sport. And believe it or not, it made a huge difference! I once drove a Mini Cooper S with a manual, and while Elantra Sport Mode certainly wasn’t that vivacious, it was much, much more fun than Elantra Normal or Elantra Smart. Okay, full disclosure- I didn’t even bother to check out Elantra Smart- I spent too many years driving a Prius to care to see what the “nerd setting” felt like- I can imagine vividly, thanks.

It wasn’t until I arrived home that I even bothered to see what the key situation was. Like I said, they were theoretically in it, as the engine was on, but not until pulling up near my house did I think to make sure that they were actually in the car. They were though, dangling from an ignition cylinder the way car keys are supposed to. I myself hate proximity fobs, push starts and such- they make me feel too disconnected. I have too many years of the muscle memory of my fingers gripping a physical car key, turning it, and feeling the vibration of the engine starting to ever get used to anything else. To me, that sensation also turns a key in my brain, and once that’s turned, it is like “Okay, we’re operating a car now, pay attention”. Without that ritual, I can’t focus on my driving quite the same way. I would imagine it would be similarly disorienting if suddenly all cigarettes just came magically lit right out of the pack, long time smokers would say “What the hell? I enjoy the act of flicking my Zippo, that’s part of the whole thing!” You know? Lucky for me, the Hyundai had keys-keys, albeit surprisingly budget looking ones-

My friend’s mom had a 2004 Elantra that he’d borrow and I’m fairly certain the keys for that thing looked almost identical. A quick Google search proved me right.

C’mon Hyundai! This thing was a two-thousand and twenty! And it wasn’t even the base model. Not even a switchblade? Or a buttons-built-into-the-top-of-the-key type deal? Nope. Key and separate fob, 1995 style. Oh well. Since I’m on furlough at the moment, I didn’t really have anywhere I needed to go, so I just left the Hyundai to sit until the Jetta was ready. When I got word that the VW was all put back together, I headed back into the countryside in the Elantra.

Enhance! It’s hard to tell, but that’s a genuine Passat W8 all-wheel-drive wagon in front of me.

When I got closer, I noticed that it was full of yard work equipment, and getting pretty beat looking. Sitting behind it at a red light, I noticed the two young guys in it were rocking out to music. It was warm out that day, so since we both had our windows down I could immediately recognize Kid Rock’s “Cowboy” slapping through the Passat’s Monsoon speakers. The two guys nodded along with it enthusiastically for a few moments before starting to laugh and changing tracks on either a mix CD or a Spotify playlist or whatever. Ohhhh, they were rocking out to it ironically. The plot thickened. If it was a mix CD, were they driving a borrowed car and laughing at someone’s taste, as my friends and I did when we commandeered a dad’s Lincoln LS and found “Danger Zone” by Kenny Loggins deep within the trunk mounted CD changer? Or were they a couple of Gen Zs cycling archaeologically through a Woodstock ‘99 playlist on a streaming device of some sort? I’ll never know. Anyway, bawitda-back to my story about the Elantra. I had to put a bank-busting $3.12 worth of gas into it so that it would have a full tank before dumping the keys into my mechanic’s after hours slot and happily reclaiming the Jetta. Not that there was anything wrong with the Elantra- as has been stated endlessly elsewhere, it’s truly amazing how far Hyundai has come over the last twenty or so years. I guess the rental company wasn’t as enthusiastic about the little car’s innovations or maybe they were just used to them, as I got a call from my mechanic a few days later telling me it still hadn’t been picked up. I called the rental people who assured me they would be coming to grab it, they had just been busy. Since my mechanic has plenty of land, and since my credit card had stopped being charged, I left the situation at that. I’ve heard nothing further, so for all I know the car either got collected or it’s still just sitting out there in the fields, now in use as the nicest chicken coop in all of the Amish Country. If that’s the case, those chickens are in for a real treat! Hopefully they’ll have more luck figuring out the satellite radio than I did.

#hyundai #hyundai elantra #rental car #volkswagen #christine 1983 #stroszek #90s

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