safe routes

Fun ways to use the Gelatinous Cube in your game

This is a monster that behaves more like a living trap: its translucent, its potentially deadly, and involves skill checks to escape. Below are a few examples of the ways you can use gelatinous cube, apart from the other oozes in the Monster Manual. 

  • Players are in a maze occupied by several gelatinous cubes. These cubes follow a predictable path that loops. The PCs  can learn the safe routes by following the paths that are dirty or covered in debris. Paths that are spotless are the trails the gelatinous cubes follow, since they digest everything else in their path.
  • The players stand at the bottom of a steep staircase, unknowingly standing over a trap lid on the floor. When a PC triggers a pressure plate on one of the top stairs, the staircase will fold into a slide and the trap lid will move away to open up to a pit in the floor which contains a gelatinous cube.
  • A gelatinous cube has a magnet stuck in its body, and PCs that get within 15 ft. of the cube (while holding another magnet-like object) will have to beat a STR DC check or be pulled into the cube.
  • A gelatinous cube contains a downward-facing sword in the middle of its body. From a distance, the sword appears to be floating as if by magic, though checks to identify magic would fail since there’s nothing there to detect… unless the spell caster picks up the magic of an even smaller magic object instead, like a ring. 

Have you used a gelatinous cube in your game? Reblog this post with your story!

8

My only regrets are the moments when i doubted myself and took the safe route. Life is too short to waste time being unhappy.

Ψ(゚∀゚)Ψ hq!! ot3+ week day 2: punk ☆

My pastel prince

Summary: Pastel!Dan gets the amazing news that his boyfriend, Punk!Phil, is moving to his town. Dan gets bullied by his classmates and Phil finds out about it, but that Phil knows, doesn’t work out very well for Dan.

Excerpt: Dan had never been the reckless type, always choosing to take the safe route, not doing anything out of the ordinary. That excludes his wardrobe by the way, as that mainly consists of pastel colored sweaters and jeans. Also flower crowns, if he didn’t have one on his head, something was seriously wrong. Dan wasn’t very populair because of the way he liked to dress and he didn’t have any friends because of it. He did have a boyfriend however, but he lived about 250 kilometers away. Okay, maybe Dan did do things that were out of the ordinary, but that didn’t matter, right?

Genre: fluff, little bit of angst
Warnings: violence-bullying, implied smut (but nothing happens really) 

Word count: 13.042 

A/N: Holy shit! I’ve worked on this for half a year, it’s my baby! I really really hope you enjoy this. Giant shout out to Manon for proofreading and being enthusiastic about the story nearly every step of the way, you helped a lot <3
(Sorry about the title by the way, I’m apparently creative enough to create 13k coherent words but cannot come up with a less unoriginal and corny title)
~Lonneke 

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Having a Cancer IC may sound nice because it can be a family environment where you can be emotionally safe and comfortable, but I feel like that comfort could potentially backfire in the end. Comfort is definitely something people strive for, but comfort is very limiting. I feel like people with a Cancer IC may feel that their parents or upbringing doesn’t allow them to be ambitious. People in their family may tell them to take the “safe route” in life, rather than the route they want for the sake of staying comfortable. Perhaps with the emotional comfort they have felt in their childhoods, they can feel quite shocked when the world isn’t as warm and welcoming as their home. Aries Risings, unless they have interceptions, can struggle with a Cancer IC because they have to break through the family barriers to find and establish their own identity. A Cancer IC is given resources and comfort, but they lack the opportunity to be ambitious and mature in their families… Which is why they ultimately have the Capricorn MC. They want to be adults, and they want to pursue their own ambitions and dreams. They want to survive in the world. They were provided with the resources at the home, and now they want to utilize it.

I’m not annoyed with Tim’s farewell. I like how each member of the team had a moment to say goodbye, and everything was forgiven and forgotten between him and Walter.

What annoys me was the writers choice to keep Tim and Paige together. Not only is this unfair to the fans who have wanted Waige together since day one (and really should’ve had some kind of relationship development by now!) but it’s terrible for the characters too, especially Tim. He may not be everyone’s favourite right now, but it’s not his fault - it’s the writer’s pen. It’s added drama that is meant to entice us, and is instead making us angry.

Now I still think Waige will happen, or at least they’ll start some kind of mutual relationship by the end of the season. But as far as I can tell, there are only two ways they can approach this from here. They can either (a) go the safe route and have Paige break up with Tim a few episodes in, off screen. Maybe the long distance is too much; Maybe Paige’s feelings for Walter have come back full bloom and she doesn’t want to lead him on - either way, this seems like the safest road to take.

Or (b) and my least favourite option; Paige gets closer to Walter while still in a promising and working relationship with Tim and cheats on me. Not like “openly” cheats on him of course, but kisses Walter one day and feels really guilty for it the next. I don’t think the writers would ever do this option, seeing as how there’s been no news or rumours of Scott Porter returning to the show for the rest of the season. But it’s still an option nonetheless.

All in all, I have faith. I may not be an avid Waige shipper, but atm I am just as frustrated with this development (or lack there of) as the rest of you. So if I can keep myself hopeful for future episodes and developments, I hope I can ease some of your minds too.

I have a story to tell, do you hear me tonight? It’s things about me.

for some reason that song made me think of Seven,,,,,,

This is so me. Every time I go out for dinner or lunch or whatever, 9 times out of 10 I order the same thing. I tend to have 2 or 3 regular dishes at any restaurant that I frequent. And nearly every single time I’ll sit down, scan the menu, look for something new and exciting to try, and inevitably go back to one of my safe choices. And why? Why not try something different? The restaurant will likely still be there tomorrow. Is it not better to try that pasta dish I can’t pronounce and risk being slightly disappointed this one meal rather than go the safe and boring route and order the mushroom ravioli I always get? In the grand scheme of things, what does it really matter? 

But no. I always get the tried and true ravioli. Because what if I die today and the last meal I had was really gross, guys? What then?

8

This upcoming release from Games Workshop, Cadia Falls, has got me very excited for many reasons.

The biggest reason being that that Cadia, the second most fortified world, after Holy Terra (Earth) itself, is going to fall at the very beginning of Abaddon’s 13th Black Crusade. Now, some amongst you of may recall that the 13th Black Crusade was already once released by GW as a worldwide campaign back in 2002-3, where the Forces of Disorder won. There were effects for either force winning. For 14 years, nothing happened. Now it looks like the awesome new leadership at GW has finally done something about this. Cadia will fall. With this fortified planet no longer guarding the sole safe route out of the Eye of Terror, the Traitor Legions will be unleashed upon the Imperium.

As someone who took part in the worldwide campaign so many years ago as a teenager, this feels like a long awaited reward. Albeit with new fluff.

anonymous asked:

As someone who is uncomfortable with the word, I think the safe route is to tag it whenever it's in use. Sure people can reclaim it but before the reclaimation, it was used to dehumanize lgbt ppl and so some of us are still scarred by its use

This is old but I never got back to y'all. I’ve done some reading and talked to people and read the messages and I think the best compromise is “q word” so from now expect qu**r to be tagged as “q word” instead of “q slur”. I realize I can’t please everyone with this issue and you all have valid points.

– Jay

Inspirational Dan/Phil Quotes
  • “my only regrets are the moments when i doubted myself and took the safe route… life’s too short to waste time being unhappy” - Dan
  • “may i stroke your glabella?” - Dan
  • “it’s a good thing to be strange. normalness leads to sadness.” - Phil
  • “you should never make fun of something a person can’t change about themselves.” - Phil
  • “your mum.” - Phil
  • “…one day you will find that companion.” - Dan
  • “the only ugly girls are the ones that don’t realise beauty comes from within.” - Dan
  • “do whatever you have to do to be happy.” - Dan
  • if you’re insulting somebody on the internet, you must be ugly on the inside.” - Phil
  • “your mum” - Dan
  • “keep smiling and stuff.” - Dan
  • you are a human with one life and it’s up to you to make it the best life you can.” - Dan
  • “ASs” - Phil
  • “they’re probably feeling the same kind of scared, horrible feelings that everyone does.” - Phil
  • “meow” - Phil

little dancing feet

follows this, because writing papae Solas has become my way of coping with stress, apparently

***

He walks the mountain slopes – the safe routes where the stones won’t slip, and his steps are sure and his focus steady as he picks his way along familiar footpaths. The sling bears her little weight with ease, and he’s grown used to the feel of it, and of her, tucked safely against his chest and beneath his coat, to ward off the cold.

He walks in silence, enthralled by her gentle, humming noises, but even as he stores them away for safekeeping he catches himself thinking years down the line, and to a set of small feet following, and a small voice keeping up a steady stream of chatter to fill the space between his breaths – a dearly precious thought, for one who has so long been resigned to a path much darker, and much, much lonelier.

But for now he allows himself to enjoy the quiet – her quiet, and her lovely, wordless sounds – for that, too, is a fact dear and precious in its own right.

***

“This is a very small sock,” Dorian observes, holding up the aforementioned object with a strangely delighted grin.

Sprawled on the blanket before her, Sage kicks her legs, and Ellana blows a stray lock of hair from her face, expression contorting with annoyance. With only one hand, changing her daughter is something of a struggle, but it’s practice she sorely needs, lest she saddle the nursemaid with all the work.

Not to mention, it’s a matter of pride – just because she’s lost an arm doesn’t make her useless. Or at least, it shouldn’t.

“I could do that, you know.”

Glancing up, she doesn’t bother hiding her surprise. “Weren’t you just complaining about the smell? It doesn’t get any better when you’re elbow-deep in it, and I’ve seen you deal with filth before. You can’t magic this away.”

“You wound me.”

She swats him lightly with one of the clean linen diapers. “Hardly. If I were really trying, I’d smack you with a dirty one.” But she moves out of the way when he kneels down beside her, and observes with growing amusement as he pokes one of Sage’s feet, watching her tiny toes curl with interest.

They sit there for a while in silence, Ellana watching Dorian fiddle with the strip of linen, turning it over in his hands with an expression that bravely attempts at conveying scholarly intrigue, but doesn’t succeed in hiding the fact that he has no idea where to begin.

Then, clearing his throat, “You know, this doesn’t strike me as a naturally intuitive skill–”

“I’ll instruct you.”

***

It’s the most half-hearted game of chess they’ve ever played.

“Arishok to–”

Sage makes a noise – a soft coo that rises from where she lies in the curve of a massive arm, and Iron Bull’s grin stretches with a laugh. “What, you don’t think it’s the right move? Forgive me if I don’t trust you – since I’m playing your old man, your opinion’s clearly biased.”

Another string of syllables follow – a seamless, meaningless babble, but Iron Bull nods along intently. Solas observes his shifting expressions, the eye-patch quirking with his widening grin, and it’s with exceptional care that he makes to shift in his seat, careful not to disturb the blanketed bundle in the crook of his arm.

And it’s something of a sight, Solas decides, watching someone of Iron Bull’s stature gently rocking a babe small enough to fit in the dip of his palm.

A long moment follows in which neither of them say a word, busy watching the small bundle, and the wide eyes trained on the sharp horns far above her head, obscuring her view of the sky. And it’s a good few minutes before Iron Bull speaks up, although without lifting his eyes to Solas–

“Wait – whose turn is it?”

***

“Purrs, hisses. Fur, soft to the touch. Touch it. I want to touch it.”

“Kit,” Sage chirps, ever-shifting thoughts echoed with far more simplicity, and pointing to the little shape slinking past the corner of the tavern.

“Yes.”

There’s a pause - a pause he feels, along with the childlike need that kindles, small flames that simmer with excitement. It’s a joy unlike anyone else’s joy, this wild, childish thing. More similar to a spirit’s delighted glee, and he has always been good with spirits.

Then, “Catch?” she asks, tilting her head up to look at him. The hat casts her face in shadow, and shields it from the glare of the sun, but despite his small cares, there’s a pale dusting of freckles growing ever darker across the bridge of her nose.

A smile meets her inquisitive gaze, curving under the wide-brimmed hat. “Okay.”

***

At her first banquet she’s toddling with ease, if a bit too much enthusiasm at times as she physically launches herself across the room, the bell-shaped skirt of her dress a pale cloud of green and her curls bouncing about her face, and her shrieking laughter ringing loudly above the ballroom chatter.

She commandeers him for a dance, of course – no one is surprised, least of all Solas, and somewhere in his peripheral he catches the band changing their tune to one that’s not so quick; accommodating for the little legs desperately trying to keep up with the dancing couples around them.

She’s balancing on his feet, little arms raised high and her lip sucked between her teeth in concentration, and it’s difficult keeping a straight face, watching her very serious expression as he makes to twirl in a slow circle, steps steady and deliberate and her hands tucked against his palms. He feels the eyes of the ballroom on his back, and hears the murmurs below the music, but the brief glance he offers across the room is to Ellana, leaning against a pillar with a private smile and laughter in her eyes.

By the third song, Sage is half-asleep, the excitement of the day no doubt playing some part in the heavily drooping eyelids and the earnest yawns, but – “No,” comes the prompt answer when he attempts to lift her up, even though she’s barely standing. But she acquiesces when he promises he’ll keep dancing, although she’s fast asleep long before the band stops playing, arms gone slack about his neck, and sprawled against his shoulder with all her small, honest weight. But he stays where he is, swaying gently to a song from deep in his memory, and feeling her steady breaths under the press of his palm against her back.

He senses Ellana approaching, her steps quiet across the polished floors, shoes long discarded and the skirts of her dress caught between her fingers. “Everyone else has stopped dancing,” she observes, pausing to tuck a stray curl behind a jutting ear. “And there’s no band playing.”

“She would not have let that stop her, I think,” Solas chuckles softly. Then, tilting his head, “Nor would you.”

Her smile widens, and she moves to wrap her lone arm around his midsection, tucking the sleeping shape between them. But Sage doesn’t stir as they sway together in their silent dance, the ballroom empty save the servants clearing away the tables; the only music the clink of trays and glasses, cutlery and plates.

And the softly fluttering heartbeat, caged so gently between their own.

2

Prompt: “[…]Could you write a one shot where the reader plays strip poker with Gambit […] and they actually beat him? Thank you so much!”

Rating: M (Alcohol and some sexual content with very mild dubious consent)

Characters: Remy LeBeau, Reader, X-Men (Mentioned)

Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Reader (Kinda)

Notes: Wasn’t sure if the person who requested it wanted this to turn into smut so I’m gonna take the safe route. Also, Remy is based more off of the Wolverine: Origins Remy since I suck at adding in foreign accents and terms to dialogue.

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It’s set up for years that the Necrons are responsible for the Cadian pylons which cause enough stability around Cadia for it to be the only safe route in and out of the eye of terror, part of an ancient Galaxy-wide project to shut the warp off from the physical universe.

The only payoff to this plot element is a single Necron museum curator turning up to give tech support out of boredom.