#Updraft Plus

[mehediakram]

ওয়ার্ডপ্রেস ওয়েবসাইট নিরাপদ রাখবেন যেভাবে

যারা ওয়ার্ডপ্রেস দিয়ে ওয়েবসাইট তৈরী করেছেন কিন্ত সাইটের নিরাপত্তা নিয়ে চিন্তিত, তারা চাইলে সহজেই তাদের ওয়েবসাইটের নিরাপত্তা বৃদ্ধি করতে পারেন। কিছু টিপস্ এবং প্লাগইন দ্বারা সাইটের নিরাপত্তা বৃদ্ধির আলোচনা করা হলো, আশা করছি ওয়ার্ডপ্রেস দ্বারা তৈরীকৃত ওয়েবসাইটে স্বত্বাধিকারীদের উপকারে আসবে। হোস্টিং যেকোন ওয়েবসাইট নিরাপত্তার প্রধান শর্ত হচ্ছে ভালো হোস্টিং ব্যবহার করা। তাই হোস্টিং কেনার সময়…

[allthingsfangirl101]

Dancing To Break Open – Glen Powell

Glen's POV

"And cut!"

Y/N and I instantly relaxed. The cameras moved off of us, and we shared a small smile.

"We're done."

"Yes, we are," she chuckled. She may have said that lightly, but something was off.

"Any plans for tonight?" I asked, trying to get her to open up a little.

Y/N and I have worked on Twisters for a little over a month now. We didn't quite have the kind of costar connection I wish we had. Whenever I asked her to hang out or get drinks after work, she'd thank me for the invite, but say she can't. She never gives me an explanation. Just promises that we'll hang out another time. We never do.

"I've gotta work on memorizing my lines," she instantly answered. "These scientific terms are going to destroy me."

She sent me a soft smile before turning on her heel and heading toward her trailer.

I thought it was a one-time thing. It wasn't. Y/N acted the same the next day. But this time, I didn't let her think no one noticed.

When we got to work the next day, I asked her how her night was. She smiled, shrugged, and said it was fine.

I couldn't help but keep my eye on her throughout the day. First look, she seemed fine. But if you looked closer and longer, you could see that something was weighing on her shoulders. I pushed aside my worry about her and got ready for the scene.

Y/N and I stood in front of the fake laptop, pretending to analyze what will be CGIed onto it.

"So this is an EF1, perfect conditions," I recited. "Run your experiment, see if it works."

"Okay," Y/N said as she pretended to look at the notebook and type in the numbers, "so, um, 1,500 kilos of polymer absorbing 300 times its weight."

"So, it's 450,000 kilos of precipitation loading into our water-filled polymer to load the updraft. Let's see how the model responds," I recited.

"Buoyancy of the rising air is reducing," Y/N said as we watched the green screen."

"It's reducing," I repeated. "Slowing the updraft."

"Temp is going down."

"Kate?" I waited a second before softly saying. "Kate, in theory, this should've worked."

Y/N looked up at me and said, "In theory." We held our eye contact for a second before she looked back at the screen. "But it wasn't an EF1 that day. I mean. . . We never had a chance."

"You want one?"

I looked at Y/N and waited for her to look at me. When she did, we held our eye contact longer. Eventually, Y/N looked at the barrels behind me. I turned, following her gaze. We held that spot for another second, waiting for Lee to yell cut.

"Cut!" He finally yelled. "Nicely done, you two!"

I looked back at Y/N expecting to see her excitedly smiling at me, but she wasn't. She was looking at her hands. I opened my mouth to say something to her, but closed it when I realized that whatever I said, she'd just lie to me again. Instead of talking to her, I decided to do something else.

I grabbed her hand and spun her around. She gasped when I spun her around. As I pulled her into my chest and started dancing with her, she giggled.

"Glen," she elongated, "what are you doing?"

"What?" I shrugged. "Anything wrong with wanting to dance with a pretty girl?"

Y/N giggled as I spun her around. When she was back in my arms, she looked up at me through her eyelashes.

"Nothing," she whispered. "Absolutely nothing."

We kept our eye contact as we swayed side to side. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. As we danced, my mind filled with questions.

Was Y/N embarrassed?

Was she struggling with something in her personal life?

Did she think she wasn't good enough to be in our movie?

Was it something I did?

Did I make her uncomfortable?

Was someone bothering her on set?

Was Y/N in trouble?

That thought made me finally speak up. "Y/N, I can't shake the feeling that something is going on," I started. "You can talk to me. I'm not going to tell anyone. Plus, maybe I can help you. Am I wrong? Y/N, are you in some sort of. . ."

"Alright," Lee laughed. "As cute as it is to watch the two of you dance, let's get things ready for the next scene."

Before I could do anything or say anything, Y/N walked away. Despite my attempts throughout the day, I couldn't talk to Y/N again. It seemed as if we were never alone. I walked out of my trailer tired from filming, but annoyed that I couldn't talk to Y/N.

As I was leaving, I walked past Y/N's trailer. I froze when I saw the light still on inside. I didn't hesitate.

I walked to her trailer and knocked on the door. I waited for her to say something, but she didn't. Slowly, I opened the door and peeked my head in. My heart jumped into my throat when I saw Y/N asleep on her couch. I walked in and knelt next to her.

"Y/N," I whispered. I gently touched her on her shoulder to wake her up. I struggled to ignore the feeling in my stomach as she slowly woke up.

"Glen?" She sleepily mumbled.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," I teased.

She sat up and instinctively fixed her hair. "Why are you asleep in your trailer and not at home?"

Her eyes slightly widened. She opened and closed her mouth, clearly trying to come up with a lie.

"Y/N," I said gently, "please. What's going on? I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong."

"It's nothing," she instantly stuttered. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

When she still refused to say anything, I grabbed her hand and sat next to her.

"Please, Y/N," I whispered. "Talk to me."

"It's stupid," she said, her eyes on our hands. I intertwined our fingers to try and get Y/N to look up at me. I smiled when she did.

"I bet it's not," I gently teased. She studied me for a second before sighing.

"I broke up with an old co-star of mine," she confessed, her voice soft. "Our movie ended, and we were never around each other. The longer we went without seeing each other, I realized that I wasn't in a rush to see him. You know? And I don't want a relationship like that. I want a guy I can't wait to see. A guy that if I go even one day without seeing him, it's too long. I want a guy who is eager to see me, too."

"I get that," I said gently. "He wasn't that guy, so you broke up with him."

"Not a first," she sighed. My heart sank when she looked away from me. "I tried to talk to him about this. He brushed it off. It turned into a fight, and that's when I found out that he was only with me because he thought it would improve his career."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," I said, subconsciously scooting closer to her.

"I told him I wasn't going to be used," she said, her voice breaking.

"Good for you," I tried to praise her. "How long ago was this?"

"A week?" Her voice broke again, causing me to move closer to her. "I got a call from him a couple of days ago. He was clearly drunk and swore to ruin my career, my name. . . my life."

"He threatened you?" I asked, my jaw clenched. My tone of voice made Y/N look up at me, shock clearly written on her face.

"He hasn't done anything," she said slowly.

"Is this why you're afraid to go home?" I asked, struggling to control my anger. She looked away, giving me her answer. I took a shaky breath to try and calm down before standing up and pulling her with me.

"What are you. . ." She stuttered.

"I'm taking you home," I said, not noticing my jaw was still clenched until I spoke. "And if that guy is anywhere near you. . ."

"Glen, stop," she said, pulling on my arm and turning me toward her.

"I am not going to let him hurt you."

"I don't think he will," she said, but there was fear in her eyes. "I'm probably just overreacting."

"But. . ."

"I'm fine," she cut me off.

"I will let you go home under one condition," I offered. "You promise to call me if your ex ever shows up."

"Glen. . ."

"I mean it, Y/N," I cut her off. "I need to know that if something ever goes wrong, you'll call me so I can come help you. If I let you go home and something happens to you. . ."

"It wouldn't be your fault," she continued when I didn't. Without thinking, I gently put my hands on her arms, rubbing them up and down.

"I couldn't handle if something happened to you and I wasn't there to protect you."

"It's not your job to protect me," she tried to joke.

"What if I want it to be?"

My question surprised her.

"Why would you want it to be?" She asked slowly.

I smiled as I took a step closer to her. I heard her gasp when I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer. "Because," I whispered, "I want to be the guy who is dying to see you all day. The guy who can't wait to leave work and wrap you in his arms. A guy that if I go even one day without seeing you, it's too long. I want to be eager to see you."

"You do?"

To answer her question, I leaned in and gently kissed her. My heart jumped into my throat when she slowly started to kiss me back. Any happiness I had disappeared when she suddenly broke the kiss.

"I can't. . ." She stuttered, shaking her head.

"What's wrong?" I asked, pulling her into my chest to keep her from walking away.

"This is what happened with him," she said, her eyes on our shoes. "We dated because we were filming together. Our feelings were only attached to our movie and our characters' relationship. That's what's going on here, Glen. Can't you see? You don't like me. Your character likes my character. I can't. . . I can't do this again, Glen. I'm sorry."

She started to walk away, but I caught her wrist. I turned her around and instantly connected my lips to hers. I broke the kiss and leaned my forehead against hers.

"It'll be different, Y/N," I whispered. "I promise."

Masterlist

[thealogie]

Ok early season 1 glee was still trying to play by the rules of reality and was therefore so so boring but late season 1/early season 2 so far we have just gone full camp and it’s delightful. Plus we have this Emmy worthy dialogue happening where will schuester says it’s all okay and sue says “that's what Hubert Humphrey said back in 1968 at the Democratic National Convention but then hippies put acid in everyone's bourbon, and when an updraft revealed lady bird johnson’s tramp stamp, and tattoos above her ovaries, Mayor Daley became so incensed with sexual rage that he punched his own wife in the face”

[apartmentwhereikeepallofmyswords]

Some incorrect quotes from a silly generator plus mystic (my oc). Enjoy cause I loved imagining these scenarios with this dumbass and the bois

—

Mystic: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited

Dust: If?

Axe: Great, the only party I’ve ever been invited to and they might not even die."

Mystic: Hey, Killer? Can I get some dating advice?

Killer: Just because I’m with Color doesn’t mean I know how I did it.

Mystic: We need to get through this locked door. Killer, give me your credit card.

Killer: Here.

Mystic, pocketing it: Thanks. Axe, kick down the door.

Mystic: Don't worry, I got a plan.

Killer: Alright.

Mystic: TraitorSayWhat?

Cross: Excuse me?

Mystic: What?

Everyone:

Mystic:

Mystic: No wait-

Mystic: How's the sexiest person here~?

Killer: I don't know, how are they~?

Mystic, flustered: I-

Color, from across the room: I'm doing great, thanks!

Mystic: Killer and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Color: *Sighing* What did Killer do?

Mystic: He chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Killer: Who wants a steering wheel?

Mystic: WHY. why did you give Color a KNIFE?!

Killer: I’m sorry. They said they felt unsafe.

Mystic: Now I feel unsafe!

Killer: I’m sorry.

Killer: ... would you like a knife?

Color: HELP! I TOLD MYSTIC I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK!

Killer, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

Ccino : Would you stab your best friend in the leg for 10 million gold?

Killer: You stab me, and then when my leg gets better, we buy a big-ass house.

Color: You can stab me too, then we'll have 20 million.

Killer: Good thinking.

Mystic: Wait! just *keep* stabbing me. infinite money.

Color and Ccino: No!

Killer, already nodding and lifting a knife: infinite money

Mystic: Color, can I talk to you for a second?

Color: Yeah, what’s up? Lemme guess. You and Killer are having problems and you want me to teach you how to kiss?

Mystic: What? No, stop that. I know how to kiss. I’ve read books.

Color: Thats not... Remind me to bring this up later.

Ccino: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Killer: I'm a knife.

Mystic, from across the room: He’s the little spoon.

Mystic: While I’m gone, Killer, you’re in charge.

Killer: Yes!!!

Mystic, whispering: Color, you’re secretly in charge.

Color: Obviously.

Mystic: I’m kind of crushing on someone, but I’m worried about telling you who it is, because you’re not going to like it

Killer: Just rip the bandage off.

Mystic: It’s Mare.

Killer: Put the bandage back on

Mystic: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.

Killer: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you?

Mystic: Yes!

Color: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

Mystic: Everytime I hear someone talking about updog, I’m torn between not wanting to fall for it and wanting to help them complete their joke.

Killer: Okay, but what is updog?

Color: Updog is a long sausage in a bun, often served with ketchup, mustard, onions, and/or relish.

Mystic: Not, that’s a hot dog. An updog is when a new version or patch of an application is released.

Color: No, that's an update. You’re thinking of the fourth largest city in Sweden.

Mystic: Surely, that’s Uppsala, where’s updog is the giant spider in Harry Potter.

Color: That’s Aragog. Updog is a symbol conventionally used for an arbitrarily small number in analysis proofs.

Mystic: You’re thinking of epsilon. Updog is an upward-moving air current.

Color: No, that’s an updraft. An updog is the modern version of a henway.

Killer: What’s a henway??

Mystic: Oh, about five pounds.

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Mystic: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Cross: ...I did. I broke it.

Mystic: No. No you didn't. Dust?

Dust: Don't look at me. Look at the boss.

Nightmare: What?! I didn't break it.

Dust: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Nightmare: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Dust: Suspicious.

Nightmare: No, it's not!

Killer: If it matters, probably not, but Axe was the last one to use it.

Axe: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Dust: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

Axe: I chew on the wooden sticks. Everyone knows that, Dust!

Cross: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Mystic.

Mystic: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

Axe: Mystic... Killer’s been awfully quiet.

Killer: rEALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Mystic, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.

Mystic: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Mystic:

Mystic: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

Mystic: We need to distract these guys

Killer: Leave it to me

Killer: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Color, Nightmare, and Axe: *Immediately begin arguing*

Dust, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

Mystic: Croissants: dropped

Cross: Road: works ahead

Killer: BBQ sauce: on my titties

Dust: Shavacado: fre

Axe: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Nightmare:

Nightmare, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

Mystic: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Cross: >:O language

Killer: Yeah watch your fucking language

Dust: OKAY WHO TAUGHT CROSS THE FUCK WORD?

Axe: 'The fuck word'.

Nigthmare: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Dust: Oh my god they censored it

Axe: Say fuck, Nightmare.

Killer: Do it, Nighty. Say fuck.

Mystic: Rules are made to be broken.

Cross: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken.

Color: Uh, piñatas.

Killer: Glow sticks.

Axe: Karate boards.

Dust: Spaghetti when you have a small pot.

Mystic: Rules.

Cross:

*The squad right before Mystic's wedding*

Cross: Well I have to go, I have a wedding to attend.

Axe: Wait... Oh! I have a wedding to attend too!

Ccino: I THINK WE ALL HAVE WEDDINGS TO ATTEND

Dust, panicked: I THINK I HAVE A WEDDING TO OFFICIATE

Killer and Color: WE HAVE A WEDDING TO GET MARRIED AT.

Mystic: I CAN'T DO IT!

Killer, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Mystic: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Color: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Mystic:

Mystic: I appreciate it,

Mystic: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

Cross: Mystic-

Mystic: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Cross: Mystic we gotta-

Mystic: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Mystic: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Mystic, motioning to a picture of Ccino: NOT FUCKIG THIS!

Mystic: Time for plan G.

Nightmare: Don’t you mean plan B?

Killer: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.

Ace: What about plan D?

Mystic: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.

Cross: What about plan E?

Mystic: I’m hoping not to use it. Axe dies in plan E.

Dust: I like plan E.

Color: How. How much caffeine have you two had.

Mystic and Killer vibrating: So much.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

WIP Weekend

Weekly WIP update:

My vacation is over (noooo, why??? 😭). Packing up and heading home this weekend, and back to the old grind (and my regular writing schedule) next week.

This means chapter 5 of Updraft should hopefully get finished some time next week, or the week after at the latest. Plus, it's posting claims this weekend, so I'll be able to announce the posting date next week, too!! 👀

With my 1k follower requests all filled, I've started looking at some challenges and prompt fests going on atm, so keep your eyes peeled for more ficlets. ✨️

Send me an emoji, and I'll write and share three sentences from that project.

🏰 The King's Gift

⚙️ Updraft

✨️ Random ficlet

Snippet from ✨️

(CW: Explicit sexual content)

“Pretty thing,” Eddie purrs. His breath tickles the tip of Steve’s cock, overly sensitive and slick with spit and precome. “God, I love when you're like that. You enjoying yourself, honey?”

Steve hums his approval, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back, eyes closed in bliss. The movement is slow and lazy, and it makes Eddie’s fingers drag along that sweet spot deep inside, the one that makes fireworks explode at the base of his spine and patterns of light dance in the darkness behind his eyelids. Eddie chuckles and presses a kiss to the underside of his cock, just below the slit.

Somebody mewls.

Eddie laughs, low and pleased. “Love the sounds you make for me, sweetheart.”

Steve's eyes fly open. Because, see, that wasn't him.

[funnyscienceman]

sunken temple is the best lor card i think actually. updraft your hand and draw that many plus 1. first of all, immaculate art. love the temple abandoned underwater with the cracking visage of god. second of all, easiest TF level up ever. drop TF turn 4, then temple turn 5. he levels almost immediately.

third: lore shit. completely unintentional probably. but TF is terrified of the water. the open ocean. river boy who can't swim. that which makes him the most powerful is also what terrifies him the most. if TF just surrendered to the water he could be godlike. he could be unstoppable. he's locked behind Eternal for a reason, that champion isn't ever gonna be let back into Standard. not for now, anyway. no, TF's content to use his powers to scam people and commit petty theft and teleport his boyfriend out of danger. which is great, im happy for him, a 4 mana 2 | 2 with quick attack that does a destiny card upon being played is pretty good too. however...

[pathfinderunlocked]

Zandrel - CR4 Aberration

Weird coincidences are common when a Zandrel is near.

Artwork by Kez Laczin on ArtStation, official art from Numenera, copyright Monte Cook Games.

The zandrel is a monster originally designed for the Numenera tabletop RPG, a scifi game with some of the most insane and outrageous monster concepts of any game out there. Unfortunately, the actual combat mechanics for said monsters are very lacking in rules, mostly just leaving it up to the game master to decide how to mechanically represent what the bestiary's lore says they can do.

Monte Cook Games did release a D&D 5e book full of 5e stat blocks for their Numenera monsters, but the zandrel in that book is still basically just all fluff and no mechanics. It gets advantage on all d20 rolls and is otherwise just a CR4 bird. With this Pathfinder version, I hoped to give it some real gameplay at the table, both before and during combat.

A zandrel is an aerial predator that has amazing vision and hunts by either day or night. It can glide on updrafts in the air for days or possibly months at a time before it must descend to rest or hunt again. It can usually rise so high that it is essentially invisible to creatures on the ground, though its eyesight is so keen that it can clearly see anything that moves on the surface even when it's miles high. RAW, seeing a creature flying half a mile above you in plain sight is a DC 264 Perception check, so when I say "essentially invisible" that's actually quite an understatement.

A zandrel often hunts by choosing a target, following it for hours or days while flying high in the air overhead, and waiting for the ultra-likely random encounters or some crazy stuff from its Improbable Events table to wear the target down before swooping down to attack in the middle of one such event. It has no special knowledge of what events will occur.

If you're not using random encounters, and are instead hand-choosing or fudging when and where your encounters take place, I would suggest having a wild animal or a group of bandits or a PC's long-lost sister or something else that feels "random" attack the PCs just before the zandrel does, to get the same feel. Alternately you can just wait until the Improbable Events table hits them with something nasty.

The way this creature interacts with random encounters will be interesting to certain kinds of GMs and not others. I wanted to include that, but I also tried to make the rest of its abilities interesting enough that it still felt like a cool monster even if you're not using that aspect of it. It's still much more GM-fiat-reliant than a typical Pathfinder monster - Pathfinder is a game where abilities normally have very specific and well-defined effects, and this is a monster that can cause almost anything to happen. It's a good monster to use if you enjoy improv in your games.

GMs should feel free to customize the Improbable Events table to their liking. If you want absolute chaos instead of just highly unlikely coincidences, you could have certain results on this table create a wild magic surge or even cause the GM to roll on the d10000 net libram of random magical effects.

This is a commissioned monster.

Zandrel - CR 4

Descending from overhead is a large, vaguely birdlike creature with a wicked beak, red and black feathers that end with barbs and spikes, and legs that feature cruel talons. Tiny glowing white motes of light drift in the air around it.

XP 1,200 N Large aberration Init +3 Senses blindsight 30 ft., long-distance vision, see in darkness; Perception +17 Aura improbability field (1 mile)

DEFENSE

AC 14, touch 12, flat-footed 11 (+3 Dex, +2 natural, –1 size) hp 39 (6d8+12) Fort +4, Ref +6, Will +8 Immune poison

OFFENSE

Speed 20 ft., fly 40 ft. (good) Melee 2 talons +7 (1d6+3 plus grab) Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft. Special Attacks constrict (talon, 1d6+3 plus poison), flash of misfortune, swoop down

STATISTICS

Str 17, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 2, Wis 16, Cha 11 Base Atk +4; CMB +7 (+11 grapple); CMD 20 Feats Endurance, Flyby Attack, Weapon Focus (talon) Skills Fly +11, Perception +17, Stealth +3, Survival +15; Racial Modifiers +8 Perception, +8 Survival SQ improbability field, improbable events

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Flash of Misfortune (Su) As an immediate action, when a creature other than itself within 100 ft. makes a d20 roll, a zandrel can force it to roll twice. The zandrel chooses which die result is used.

Improbability Field (Ex) Within 1 mile of a zandrel, whenever a creature rolls on a d100 table or similar large table of random results, including random encounter tables, the GM should roll 5 times and choose the most interesting result. This does not apply to the zandrel's own Improbable Events table.

Additionally, within 1 mile of a zandrel, whenever a creature rolls to determine if it runs into a random encounter, the GM should roll 5 times. A random encounter occurs if any die roll results in a random encounter.

Improbable Events (Ex) Once per hour, the zandrel can roll on the following table, causing one of the following effects to happen after a 1d10 x 5 minute delay:

1-20: Abnormal weather effect appropriate for the region, as described in the Core Rulebook 21-30: Storm weather effect appropriate for the region, as described in the Core Rulebook 31-40: Powerful storm weather effect appropriate for the region, as described in the Core Rulebook 41-50: A creature of the zandrel's choice within 1 mile encounters one of the previous 10 enemy groups fought by that creature, chosen at random (reroll any option that is impossible). 51-53: Lightning strikes a random creature or object, or a creature or object of the GM's choice, within 1 mile, dealing 5d6 electricity damage (Reflex save DC 13 halves). 54-56: Lightning strikes creature or object of the zandrel's choice within 1 mile, dealing 5d6 electricity damage (Reflex save DC 13 halves). 57-58: A meteorite falls from space and strikes a space of the GM's choice within 1 mile, creating a 20 ft. radius crater and dealing 5d6 bludgeoning damage to creatures and objects in that area, ignoring hardness less than 20. A DC 13 Reflex save halves the damage, and all creatures within 1 mile of the zandrel that can see the sky receive a DC 20 Perception check to notice the meteorite falling 1 round before it lands, and those that see it can make a DC 20 Knowledge (geography) check to determine where it will land. The meteorite contains 200 GP worth of adamantine. 59-60: A creature of the zandrel's choice within 1 mile, and everything else within the stampede's area, is trampled by a 20-ft.-wide stampede of wild animals moving in a straight line, and takes 4d6+9 bludgeoning damage (Reflex save DC 13 halves), as described in the summon stampede spell. 61-65: A creature of the zandrel's choice within 1 mile steps on a concealed bear trap that was left behind. 66-99: Nothing 100: A random creature, or a creature of the GM's choice, within 1 mile, locates a treasure trove containing 1d10 x 500 gp worth of mundane treasure.

Long-Distance Vision (Ex) When making sight-based Perception checks and other sight-based skill checks that take the same penalty for distance, instead of the normal -1 penalty per 10 feet, a zandrel only takes a -1 penalty per 1000 feet.

Poison (Ex) Constrict—injury; save Fortitude DC 15; frequency instantaneous; effect overwhelmed for 1 round; cure N/A. This poison is applied each round that the constrict damage is dealt, and does not continue afterwards.

An overwhelmed creature is staggered and cannot concentrate. If an overwhelmed creature attacks or casts a spell, it falls prone and becomes helpless until the beginning of its next turn after doing so. Effects that would remove or prevent the paralyzed or nauseated conditions also remove or prevent the overwhelmed condition.

Swoop Down (Ex) As a full-round action while flying or falling, a zandrel can fly downwards at a speed of up to 800 ft. per round (the speed of a falling object), and make a talon attack against a target at the end of its fall, ending its movement flying at ground level without taking falling damage or requiring a Fly check. This counts as a charge, giving the zandrel a +2 bonus to attack on the charge and -2 AC for one round afterwards. This movement does not provoke attacks of opportunity.

[blackjackkent]

Hah, well, my usual two pairings plus the standard wildcard! Whichever strikes your fancy.

Hector/Karlach - "Oh, shut up." "You shut up." "Make me." "Okay, but you might moan a little."

Jaheira/Rasaad - "Shh... just a little bit more."

Shadowheart/Lae'zel - "Let me ruin you."

(Spicy Romance Prompts)

Jaheira/Rasaad - "Shh… just a little bit more."

Y'know, for some reason I was originally not going to try to mess with Jaheira/Rasaad smut until I got further along in Open Your Eyes, but I've been working on the next chapter outline and rotating them in my head a lot and got to feeling inspired. XD So here we go.

NSFW warning. XD

------

Rasaad’s eyes grow very dark when he makes love to her.

Even by the light of day, his eyes are the most striking thing about him, deep and black, glittering like gemstones. Onyx, Jaheira often thinks, recalling crystals she has plucked from caves deep in Faerun’s heart, crystals forged by time and pressure, steady and slow. 

But when they are alone, when he is bared to her in both body and spirit, then the chaos and heat within him slips the bounds of his iron self-control. Then the onyx becomes obsidian, volcanic glass, gleaming with the light of a contained inferno.

And it thrills her in a way she cannot describe. Love, desire, yes - but also perhaps there is a part of her that thrives on taming a hurricane.

“Jaheira…” He groans out her name, a soft catch on the last syllable. He's stretched beneath her on the bed, looking up at her with those obsidian eyes. His hips arch up into her hungrily, and she meets and rolls with the motion, keeping his wrists pinned tight next to his head.

“So eager, monk,” she murmurs, her eyes narrowing teasingly. “Where is your patience?”

He strains his hands upward against her weight. “You drive me to distraction… to madness…” he growls throatily. “I feel how you want me as well…”

He is right, of course. Her pulse is thundering in her throat and between her legs as she straddles him and feels him stiff against the inside of her thigh. Yes, she wants him. He is safety and home and fierce heat, found at last after so much loss and loneliness. Though she teases him, he knows full well that he could have her for the taking if he wished. He lets her hold him back for the same reason she holds him - because to draw the moment to its breaking point makes it all the more satisfying when it… snaps…

“Shh…” she whispers. “Calm… just a little bit more…” She dips her head and kisses him and feels his teeth score along her lower lip, so eagerly does he tip his head up to meet hers. The soft whimper he makes into her mouth sends a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

“You torment me…” He rolls his head back, his eyes half-closed. His breath quickens as she moves her lips under his jaw, sucking at the pulse point there.

“Yes,” she agrees, and a wicked smile tugs at her lips. She releases one of his hands, slides her own between them, down, gripping him with a sudden swift stroke. 

His eyes snap open, black pits now with the pupils blown wide. “Gods…” he breathes. “Jaheira… please…” His hips buck up sharply into her hand, thrusting along her palm, hungry, searching. 

She lets the moment hang just a little longer, to listen to the way his breath drags in his throat with a low whine. Then she guides him - up, in, fitting their bodies together, the heat of him flowing into her.

“Take me, then,” she commands, and lets go of his wrist.

Suddenly all of him is moving at once, like a dog strained at the leash suddenly released. He growls, deep in his throat, and rolls sharply to push her beneath him, arching as he does so into a jolting thrust that jerks her a few inches up the bed. She cries out and wraps her arms around him, digging her fingertips into his back.

He does not stop, and she doesn’t want him to. The rhythm he sets is hungry and rough and she glories in it, a hawk riding the updrafts of his storm. Closing her eyes, she clings to him and surrenders to sensation blotting out everything else.

“Take me…” she whispers again, disjointedly, breathless. “Take-- Rasaad-- ahhh--”

“Jaheira… my sun…” His voice is muffled, his face buried in her shoulder. One of his arms cradles her hips; the other hand is buried in her hair, his fingertips tight on the back of her neck. “I love you… do not let me go…”

He’s moving faster now, pressing her down into the bed with weight and passion. There is no sense left of any restraint; they are both free and wild and for a moment she can think about nothing at all except the feeling of his skin and the pleasure boiling in her core. And when it breaks, it does so suddenly, rocking her from head to foot as she rides from one jolt to the next, crying out against his ear and riding up against him as if to somehow take him deeper, feel him more.

He moans, a soft ragged sound of desire, and then his movement shudders to an abrupt halt with one last, jolting thrust, and she feels his whole body twitch with the release. He is never loud, but she can feel the way he curls into her, the way his breath hitches and his hips rock, and then the slow relaxation, the muscles of his back unclenching under her fingers.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting hers. His gaze is settled again, calm onyx, glowing rather than blazing. “Jaheira…” he whispers. Rolling his weight onto one elbow, he cups her cheek with his other palm.

“I’m here…” She moves one hand to stroke gently against the back of his head. “Howling hells… you complain that I tease you, and yet you make it so worth the waiting for…”

His face drops back into her shoulder and he laughs, low and warm. “I did not say you should stop…”

[berglietz]

a warm breeze rustles through the palm fronds. dorothea adjusts her hat to shield her face from the sun —until a stronger gust of wind sweeps through, catching the brim. her eyes widen in surprise as the hat is lifted from her head, fluttering precariously in the air. hastily, she tries to reach for it, but it’s too late—the hat is already caught in the updraft.

dorothea watches in dismay as it ascends, dancing on the breeze. the hat sails higher and higher, until it lands atop a coconut tree. damn it.

“oh, caspar~! thank goodness! just who i was hoping to see!”

he's waved over, bracelets jangling as she points upward. "my hat's stuck, and i couldn't possibly think of scaling a tree in this outfit." she motions at her bathing suit. "plus, you're plenty strong. i'm sure you'd have no trouble climbing to the top. i mean, just look at those muscles!"

a winning smile. "so, what do you say? help a girl out? you'd be my hero. ”

With the jangling jewelry to guide him, Caspar squints up toward the sky. Sure enough, there's a sun hat caught between the fronds a tree above them. He twists his face back toward his classmate, features still twisted up into a recoil when he speaks.

"Oh come on, Dorothea. You know you don't have to flatter me just to get a helping hand."

His cheeks feel a little warm regardless, but he can blame that on the sun if he'd like to.

There aren't exactly as many obvious hand or footholds as a tree of the branch-ier persuasion, but that's not enough to cow the likes of Caspar von Bergliez. Callused hands wrap around the trunk, and with a hop upward the soles of his feet follow. After that it's just an upward climb.

(He looks a bit like a giant cyan inchworm from a distance. But it gets the job done!)

Finally, up at the fronds, the hat is within reach. All it takes is a quick tug to pull it free.

"Hah! Got it!" He waves his prize through the air like a victory flag. "Here, catch!!"

He opens his hand and releases the hat, allowing it to flutter down toward the sand..........and get swept up by another breeze.

"Oh."

The brim twists and turns as it sails lazily toward the shoreline.

"I-I can still get it! Just gimme a sec to get back down!"

[lunarsands]

Multi-SMP Fanfic: Which Fate’s Fairest To Us All - Ch 3

Afterlife SMP, New Life SMP and Empires SMP S2 crossover combo!!! I'm back with more MythicalSausage meets MythicalSausage shenanigans!

Characters: Mythical Sausage (1st), Rusty the Copper Golem, PearlescentMoon, Scott Smajor (1st), Mythical Sausage (2nd), Hermes, Mythical Sausage (3rd), Scott Smajor (2nd), Rocky the Goblin, and a couple of briefly mentioned cameos at the end!

WARNINGS: Character death (but they get better because Afterlife/New Life rules are in play), body horror

Chapter Summary: Myth finds the missing version of Scott, and then the two of them unexpectedly find another version of Sausage – but Myth remembers the time when he met this one in a place called Sanctuary.

Sequel to Mirror Tenfold, Beyond the Wall and follows sometime after the events of Thou, O Kings, Fair Be You All (“sometime” being relative to how much time passes in each universe)

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Chapter One ] [ Chapter Two ]

_____

Chapter Three

Despite his hopes, Myth was disappointed yet not surprised about losing Rusty during the teleport. One second he was holding his metallic assistant, intent on keeping him safe from being overtaken by the oddly sentient sculk vein…

And in the next Rusty was gone.

When Myth’s vision was free of teleportation particles and he saw the distantly familiar walls, the emptiness between his hands resonated with something inside his chest. He saw no reason to not push the feeling down and ignore it, so that’s what he did. The limbo dimension’s whole purpose seemed to rely on separating the people who entered from anyone they might be with, anyway; flesh and blood or otherwise.

It was more important to figure out from his past experience if he could recognize where he was located. However, a cursory glance to his left, then to his right, revealed that this would not be the case by virtue of the passageway being covered in sculk. That had definitely not been there before.

Or, at least, not in the sections of passageways he had traversed the first time around while trying to find an exit while avoiding Smajor in his gravital form. As a blazeborn at the time, Myth hadn’t been able to fly anywhere near high enough to reach the top of the walls, plus a blaze’s natural gravity caused them to sink after a while anyway.

He might have a better chance as a phoenix, though. Perhaps he could use the force of a fireball explosion for an additional updraft…

He decided to walk for the moment in order to see how the sculk would react, keeping his wings folded loosely behind him. If it proved to be as lively as the stuff back in the Ancient City, he would burn it to discourage it. He scanned the walls as he walked. There wasn’t any sculk vein, and again no sensors or shriekers, and the darkness peppered with turquoise didn’t appear to extend all the way up. The ground remained partially stone in places, too, so he felt safe enough treading on it.

Then he recalled that sculk could spread when something perished atop it. That presented a question about what might have happened to previous visitors or even inhabitants. The parts of the maze he had seen last time contained neither bones nor graves.

Could it be that the ultimate fate to befall anyone who didn’t make it to the exit – or didn’t find their correct portal – was to continue to wander until they stumbled upon the sculk, and be consumed by it?

He had also wondered why all of the portals leading back to individual realities were clustered in one spot.

…Or at least, theirs had been in the same cluster. Obviously, there was an infinite number of realities, but there had definitely been a reasonable number of portals that could be counted in that particular spot.

Or maybe those were simply the portals that still crossed paths with the labyrinth dimension; Myth had once theorized that the Ancient City portal was supposed to lead somewhere else entirely – because what was the point of an entire city with a malicious Warden guarding a link to a dimension with absolutely nothing of value in it? There were no resources unless someone counted the water in the fountains. Not that it amounted to much when so many of them were empty. Then there were the generic statues that had no relation to Wardens or sculk. He highly doubted there would be any settlements hidden between walls. If anything, this was like the product of a bored deity, and some of the Ancient City portals in various realities had the misfortune of intersecting with it.

Myth wasn’t terribly concerned with proving his theory. It was all a rather big inconvenience at this point. He only needed to find Rusty, find the missing doubles, and figure out how to leave the labyrinth.

That last one was the real concern, after all.

Some five minutes of walking later, the sculk receded from the surface of the walls, although didn’t disappear completely. Myth saw the end of the passageway coming up and approached carefully, keeping an ear out for the sound of copper golem footsteps. He eased his head past the edge of the wall, looking to the left first to see what might await.

It was one of the open areas with a fountain in the center. A checkerboard-like pattern of sculk dotted the floor around it, spreading from the side Myth was on. The glowing specks of turquoise glittered more sparsely beyond the fountain. Myth used that as an indication of which direction to go.

Then two very distinct dots of light glinted from the fountain itself. Myth tensed; that wasn’t any sculk. Those were a pair of eyes. They followed his movement as he purposely stepped toward the right, then quickly moved back to the left. Myth abruptly launched a fireball into the air, both to gauge a reaction and to provide more light. What he saw was a face that resembled Smajor but with hair that was a mix of orange and blue as well as two different color eyes, also orange and blue.

Surely, this was the missing Scott.

The man in the fountain stood up as the light from the fireball fizzled out. He kept his hands on the edge of the fountain as if needing support. “Sausage? Is that you? Why do you look… different?”

Even though the combination of the sound of the voice and familiarity of the face made Myth’s eye twitch for half a second, he tried to act casual as he walked closer. Just to be certain, he asked, “What about you? Weren’t you purple and sparkly the last time I saw you?”

“Huh?”

A thin smile crossed Myth’s face. “Just checking. I’m not the Sausage you know, I just look like him. Or maybe he looks like me. I’m not sure how that actually works out since timelines always seem to be out of sync.”

Scott crouched down inside the fountain again, muttering, “I hope I’m not imagining things due to hunger.” He then raised his voice a little. “Hey, if you’re real, do you have any food? I’ve run out, because I had to keep teleporting away from that thing.”

The question made Myth realize that he hadn’t planned ahead for this rescue. He laughed out loud. “Sorry. I didn’t pack a lunch. I’m just here to find you, your Mythical Sausage, and Rusty, and then get everyone out.”

As if on cue, Scott’s stomach growled. He sighed in disappointment. “Then you can explain who you are on the way. The sooner we find, uhm, my Sausage, the sooner I can raid his supplies.” He managed to climb out of the fountain – not that it occurred to Myth to offer a hand, and not that he would have wanted to touch anyone who looked like Smajor, anyway – then Scott muttered, “I’m not completely sure you’re real, though. How can there be two of Sausage? …Does the universe really need more than one? I’m pretty sure one is enough…”

Despite not lending a hand, Myth was close enough by that point to overhear, and another laugh escaped him. “You have no idea. No, really, you don’t.” The smile he directed at Scott was sardonic and quickly fell. “I’ll tell you later when we find him so I don’t have to go over the whole story twice. For now, just accept that I’m from an alternate reality.” He abruptly switched subjects by asking, “Which way did you come from, and which way were you headed?”

Scott twirled the index finger of his right hand through the air in thought, as if accessing an internal compass. The motion created a small, glowing orange circle, which he hastily swiped his hand through, dispersing the circle into tiny glowing fragments. “That side, but opposite where you came from,” he finally said, pointing to the gap in the passageway Myth had exited. “And I wanted to head away from the sculk, but needed to stop and rest.”

“What is with all the sculk, anyway?” Myth asked. “I’ve been here before, but didn’t see any sculk back then. My only guess is there wasn’t any in the area I was last time.”

“I don’t know, I thought it was because the portal was in the Deep Dark.” Scott looked pensive, then abruptly gawked at Myth as he passed by to check out the opposite side of the fountain. “Y-Your wings are on fire—”

“Yeah, they do that. Isn’t your guy some type of Ghast? Is it that surprising to see someone shedding fire?”

“Sausage – uh, the one I know – didn’t ‘shed’ fire like that all the time.”

“Neither do I. It mostly happens when I’m agitated.” Myth went coldly silent for a second, then said, “You can call me Myth if it helps with the name thing.”

“Oh. Um, alright.” Scott finally climbed out of the fountain, revealing it to be one of the empty ones due to the lack of wet footprints as he followed unsteadily after Myth. “Sorry, I might be a little slow-moving. I have a very high metabolism due to my powers and I won’t recover until I eat something.”

Myth turned to size up the transporter. “For reasons I prefer not to discuss, I’d rather not have to carry you… But if it slows us down too much, I will. Also, it has nothing to do with a risk of burning you. Unless I throw a fireball, my flames heal.”

“Got it.” Scott replied. He was still a little worried as he fell in beside Myth as the phoenix looked around at the three options they had for continuing through the labyrinth.

Myth chose the one with the least amount of sculk visible on the floor, which happened to go straight out of the crossroads rather than left or right. “You definitely weren’t going to find any food in here,” he said dryly, then chuckled. “I doubt sculk is edible.”

“Ew. No, I never thought to try it. Although, now that makes me wonder. If it’s anything like chorus fruit, which can teleport whoever eats it, what would sculk do if you ate it?”

“I don’t know, but could you be quiet for a while? I’d like to be able to hear Rusty if we get near to him.”

“Sorry. I babble when I’m hungry. And it’s really a relief to finally see another living soul… Aside from that creature.”

Myth sighed. “Fine. I’ll bite. What creature? The last time I was here, the only creatures were me, my associate, and two other guys who looked like me and you.”

“Uhhh…” From the tone of the utterance, it was clear Scott hadn’t spared a thought to whether or not the Sausage he knew was the only one who had a look-a-like copy of himself walking around.

Myth made an annoyed face, realizing he was giving himself more work with explanations. “Don’t waste time thinking about it. Which are you talking about?”

“Th-The Warden.”

That stopped Myth in his tracks. “One followed you through?”

“No, this one didn’t pop up until I wandered into a spot of sculk and the sculk vein tried to grab me. Even when I teleported down the passageway it was hard to avoid the stuff, since no matter where I went every path had some. The Warden also, um, didn’t look like the ones back home.”

“You don’t say,” Myth murmured. He scowled. Flickers of flame spat from his wings.

Remembering how the phoenix mentioned being agitated, Scott felt this was a good moment to suppress his low-energy-addled mind from babbling. He did want to ask Myth about how he knew Rusty, but he decided it could wait until they found the little golem. He was hoping they found the Ghast Mage first, though.

Something about Myth was giving him an awkward vibe.

.

Some thirty or forty minutes of walking later – with fortunately fewer and fewer sightings of sculk, to Scott’s relief – the transporter perked up when the scent of cooking food reached his nose. He hurried ahead while Myth remained at his own pace, although he did raise an eyebrow at Scott’s sudden briskness.

Around the next bend Scott saw someone sitting on the ground heating something over a tiny fire. The smell made his mouth water and the sight of fire in this place that had no kindling to offer made him think of his Sausage’s Ghast powers. Regardless of how small the fire was, there was a familiar side profile being backlit by it; familiar enough that Scott began to step forward.

By then Myth had seen the seated figure. He also noticed something that Scott didn’t, and it set off that odd pang in his chest from earlier. Before he could intervene, however, Scott called out, “Sausage! There you are!”

“S-Scott??” The tone sounded like he had just heard a ghost, but was still definitely Sausage’s voice plus without the gruff edge that Myth’s voice had. Yet as the man fumbled the food he had been holding, scrambling to catch it before it fell on the ground, the light’s effect changed. Unlike the Ghast Mage who Scott knew, this man’s hair was silver-gray and he had obvious age lines on his face.

The delicious-smelling food was saved, also to Scott’s relief.

Maybe the question of who, exactly, this look-a-like was should have been more important, but at the moment Scott couldn’t help thinking with his stomach.

The man stood up, gingerly holding some type of savory-scented pastry. He squinted. “Wait. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in the celestial realm with el ángel guardián de mi hijo? Er, with the angel version of me? Why are you disguised as the ruler of Chromia again?” He squinted a second time. “Or, well, the ruler of Chromia down on his luck, judging by that outfit. But, I mean, your eyes. They’re two different colors again.”

Myth uttered a disdainful noise at the possibility of an extra Scott being in the mix.

The older Sausage shifted his gaze to Myth. “Oh! You’re both here! Why are you, uh, orange? And why do you have only one pair of wings?”

“Wrong angel,” Myth growled, letting his voice be the reminder of the first time they had met when this Sausage was younger. He strode over and picked up the Staff of Sanctuary that had been leaning against the wall. “Didn’t this have red mushrooms on it the last time I saw it, Protector?”

“Oh,” Sausage said quietly, “You’re. That other angel.”

“Why am I the ‘other’ angel?” Myth asked resentfully. “Is it because I wasn’t all brightness and shiny armor before?”

“N-No!” Sausage quickly asserted. “No, I didn’t mean it that way! It’s because the – uh – the one that I assume is still a seraph and I shared a body for a while. Like, in the way where both our souls were in the same vessel, not, uh… anything weird or anything like that—”

“Oh, no, nothing weird about that,” Myth scoffed.

“So,” Sausage attempted to continue, “I’m kind of more familiar with him, making you the other one! Uhm, anyway, what are you now? How did you get like that?”

Scott felt entirely out of his league, but when his stomach growled again he interrupted, “Sorry, um, it seems you two know each other and need to catch up. Can I – ah – can I bother you for that food you’re holding? I’m weak from using my powers too much, and I’m honestly desperate…”

“Oh, certainly!” Sausage exuberantly disengaged from the tense conversation with Myth. “I have plenty! Sanctuary’s finest export, delicious empanadas!”

He handed the pastry over, then turned to take a few more out of his pack and handed them right to Scott since the transporter devoured the first one in an instant.

Myth was in no hurry to answer the questions, so he waited. He wanted to ask about the changes to the Staff, and why there was a gemstone matching the ones in the Ancient City portals now affixed to it. There was an energy coming off the Staff that he was somehow sensing.

It made the back of his neck itch.

Meanwhile, Sausage seemed all too happy to make sure Scott was enjoying the empanadas, chatting away as if he had forgotten that Myth was even there. The fondness in Sausage’s tone had Myth rolling his eyes. This wasn’t even the Scott this Sausage knew.

Tuning out the chatter, Myth idly inspected the Staff. He didn’t have much of a chance to look at either it or the one used by the kingly version of himself back when they had all been in Sanctuary. He amused himself with the thought of how they each had some type of specialty weapon. He supposed that, technically, the Superhero and The Wither used their bare hands for their specialty. The reminder made him reflexively reach for his sword.

The one he could no longer use effectively, because he was no longer seraph-adjacent.

The one he didn’t even have on him anymore, because he had become accustomed to using fireballs.

Myth scowled at his own carelessness and gripped the Staff of Sanctuary a little tighter.

He didn’t notice when the gemstone twinkled, nor did he realize that he had begun to slowly wander back in the direction he and Scott had come.

“Hey, Myth – where do you think you’re going?”

It was Scott who said it—

But it was Smajor’s snide tone that Myth heard.

The phoenix wheeled around, wings flaring outward and small flames forming at the outside corners of his eyes. Scott startled, then disappeared in a brief flurry of orange particles. He reappeared two meters down the passageway with a brief flurry of bright blue particles.

Sausage, meanwhile, gave a stern look that came from years of experience as a father. “I didn’t catch your name back in Sanctuary. I guess there’s only so many times you can repeat the same one. Anyway, I think you should calm down and put the fire away. I assume you’ve both been in the same situation here as me: walking around with almost no sense of direction, trying to find a companion that you came here with? I’ve been trying to find a young man named Hermes.”

Scott walked closer to Sausage, although he kept an eye on Myth. “Yes. Myth here is the first person I’ve seen since getting here, and while I’m not sure anymore how long, exactly, my companion and I have been in here, it’s been long enough that I ran out of supplies.”

Myth made a noise of annoyance, then said to Scott, “It’s been at least a month back in your world.” He folded his wings in and dispersed his flames harmlessly into thin air. He then eyed Sausage. He twisted his hands around the Staff, leaning on it for a moment before sighing. “I came here with a copper golem named Rusty, but I came to your world through a different kind of portal than the ones for the Nether or the End. I was going to save this explanation for later when we found your Ghast Mage, but, well… I’ve basically been filling in for him, and my associate Smajor has been masquerading as you. No one there questioned why we weren’t a Ghast or whatever you are.”

Myth flicked a hand up and down to indicate the transporter’s appearance. Scott stared agog and stammered, “W-Wait, what do you mean masquerading as me? What is he that my friends didn’t realize it wasn’t me? At least you’re still on the fiery side, like some kind of evolution of a Ghast.”

“He’s a very good actor,” Myth replied flatly. When Scott frowned in a way that said this didn’t answer the question, Myth elaborated.  “He’s a fungal mage. He can influence the growth of mushrooms. And, you know… fungus-like objects…” He made a point of turning his head and moving his eyes to implicate the new details on the Staff.

Instead of picking up the hint as meaning Smajor, Scott shifted his attention to Sausage. “What are you, then, with a weapon like that? Do you have anything to do with the sculk here?”

Myth threw a glare toward Scott, his expression flattening in irritation at the missed hint.

Sausage shook his head, although at least he seemed to have cottoned-on to what Myth was implying – mostly due to extrapolating from Myth’s behavior that this Smajor fellow must be of a similar disposition to the abrasive former angel. “No. I’ve never seen this place before. Which is really weird, now that I think about it, because I—”

He paused, wondering if he was about to say too much, then remembered that Myth probably remembered how he had been pulled into Sanctuary in the first place. “—I can travel between realities. I’m basically an authority on them. You might even say I’m a guardian of them.”

Scott scrubbed at the front of his hair. “Okay, wait. This is starting to get to be a bit much. You’re both a version of the Mythical Sausage that I know, but you both know about other realities but I’ve never heard him mention anything about that kind of stuff. Does that mean he’s hiding something from me?”

Sausage glanced at Myth, expecting some camaraderie on the subject, but Myth only gazed back dispassionately. Sausage’s gaze then went to Myth’s right arm; he blinked in surprise when he noticed a very important missing item. He then turned to Scott and tilted his right forearm toward the transporter. “Does your Sausage wear something that looks like this?”

Scott studied the metal vambrace with what appeared to be an ovoid green gemstone or piece of glass embedded in it. “I… think so?” He glanced aside as if trying to access a mental image of the Ghast Mage. “I don’t remember if it looks exactly like that. I don’t really pay much attention to it. I thought maybe it was just some kind of ceremonial accessory from the Nether, or something that helped him maintain a humanoid form.”

Sausage shook his head, then stopped and tilted it in thought. “I guess the only way to know for sure is if I see it in person. Or just ask him! But, anyway, now we know who to look for as we wander around in here! I have total confidence in Hermes in situations like these, so we just need to locate your friends then get back to where we belong!”

Myth abruptly chuckled. “It looks like I didn’t need to come here at all. You can easily send everyone where they’re supposed to be.” He idly turned the Staff back and forth, then scowled. “I was literally thrown in here. Didn’t have as much choice in the matter as I thought I would.” He turned around and again started to head off the way he and Scott had come.

Sausage was about to say something about Myth just walking off still holding the Staff of Sanctuary but then he saw the gemstone twinkle. It made him seriously rethink the situation. He spoke in a soft tone, “Myth, you can hang onto my Staff for now, but if you could maybe wait a few minutes for me to pack everything up before leaving?”

Myth stopped. He shook his head -- more so to clear it than to reject the request. “Sorry, I—” His eyes darted from side to side as if only now realizing the other two weren’t with him. He glanced over his shoulder. “I – I’m just eager to get going. I don’t want to leave Smajor unattended too long. He’s… a troublemaker.”

Sausage nodded, thinking back to some things Myth had said during his visit to Sanctuary. He put out his meager fire by lightly stepping on the kindling a few times, then tidied up the few items he had removed from his pack before turning back to the little pile of kindling. To Myth’s and Scott’s surprise, he gathered it up into a bundle with no issues, neither burnt nor crumbling of what should have been resulting charcoal involved.

In fact, the sticks seemed to be returning to the pale-colored state they would have been in before being burned.

Sausage glanced up while in the process of securing the bundle atop his knapsack. He grinned. “Magical firewood from Sanctuary!  It’s reusable! No matter how many times you burn it, it rejuvenates!”

“Fascinating,” Myth muttered, tone sarcastic. He felt like the concept alone was mocking his form in that moment, causing his absentmindedness from earlier to give way to his usual resentful mood. “Hurry up already. Finding out that I’m redundant by being here made me realize this is now costing me time.”

Sausage didn’t reply. He checked over his knapsack one last time, then hefted it onto his back. “Oof,” he mumbled – yet not too quietly. “I’m getting too old for this.” He straightened up, then motioned to Myth. “Lead on.”

Scott reached after Myth in hesitation. “But we just—”

Sausage caught Scott’s other arm and whispered, “Just follow him. Trust me.”

Scott protested softly, “But there was nothing back that way except sculk. He’ll lead us into a death trap if he goes the wrong way.” Regardless of his warning they both followed after the phoenix.

“He’s not leading. The Staff is.”

“What? How can you tell?”

“I, uh, well I just have a feeling. … Wait, what do you mean, a death trap?”

“I suppose it depends how far he backtracks,” Scott replied pensively. “I used up my powers trying to escape a Warden.”

Sausage didn’t look as disturbed as Scott would have hoped. If anything, he looked intrigued. “I’ve always wondered where Dolores’ people went. Maybe this place has the answers.”

~*~*~

Translations:

el ángel guardián de mi hijo - guardian angel of my child

To Be Continued in [ Chapter Four ]

[gust-jar-simulator]

Honestly if I really think about Four as a system, the idea of basing the alters on the textbook clinically approved labels bores me. For example, I don’t want to write Red as a textbook little, or Blue as a persecutor. It’s tiresome. Systems are vibrant and unusual and we get weird with it depending on our life circumstances- our “little” is an age shifter who handles our nightmares and impulsive thoughts by being Really Goddamn Queer, for example.

If anything, I think I’d want to base them on the requirements of their respective elemental dungeons in Minish Cap, maybe with some influence from the other games and of course the manga. It makes perfect sense for Blue to be full of spite if he spawned in because of/during the Temple of Droplets. It’s an ice dungeon with bottomless pits. It makes perfect sense for Red to be silly and reckless, given the minecart ride through the guts of a volcano and the fact that you have to ride the wind updrafts over lava. Vio’s dungeon comes fresh out of you needing to learn a new language, navigate a foreign culture, and then immediately solve dungeon puzzles for the first time. I haven’t gotten the Wind element yet, but so far it’s complicated and ridiculous and I look forward to seeing what I can invent for Green.

Plus if we look at the mechanics of Four Swords Adventures, it’s obvious Vio is meant to represent the “Hero of Darkness” role you get in game for “being a bother” to your teammates, and Green might be the “Hero of Light” who’s voted the most helpful in your party. Given the nature of the game(s) they’d all likely be very competitive about everything from killcount to loot, but equally willing to drop everything to do something that requires a group effort, and very synchronized when it comes to combination attacks. They bicker about the little things, but not as much about the big things that matter.

Shadow, meanwhile, is pure chaos in Hylian form. Not only does he regularly summon ridiculous bombs, but his shapeshifting power in-game means he can only be hurt by the person he’s copying, which I feel like could be useful for a fic. Also there’s the duplication thing. And the laughing. Maybe I imagined the laughing, but I sure got the impression he was laughing.

Also I think it would be funny if I gave all of them an irrational hatred of the boss monster from their elemental dungeons. Vio having a grudge against chuchus is sending me.

[zooophagous]

The change in temperature was always so sudden from the earth to the sky. Especially when nude. The damp updrafts of summer air cut through Strauss’ sparse fur and the cold of it was making his joints ache. No matter, he was in a time crunch. The watch in his knap-sack was still pinging his location, and Artemis wouldn’t be able to talk security out of chasing him down for long.

Luckily, he wouldn’t need long. He was sure of it. Sylvain’s odd… obsession, for lack of a better word, would finally be a plus. Maybe he could finish this outing without broken bones. He did have a penchant for breaking things as soon as he foolishly left his safe house.

Finding her wasn’t his immediate problem, really. The largest immediate problem was that he was currently a giant bat, and being seen by the populace might land him a spot on the nightly news. That thin lipped snarky reporter with the bad suit would talk about him. He hated the thought. There had to be a place to land that was simultaneously well hidden while still being close enough to town to quickly find Sylvain before he could be darted and hauled away like a marauding grizzly bear.

A line of trees in a field, a “shelter belt,” as Troy had called them, offered the only real shelter on this piece of plain. He swooped low towards it, and finally touched down onto the grass, leaving a trail in the silver dew that sparkled in the dim moon. He dropped his bag from his jaws as he descended. He had no sooner made ground then he had begun his painful regression back into his human form.

Holding the shape of the great bat took energy and concentration. Releasing it felt like dropping a heavy weight. His back and shoulders ached and burned as muscle and tendon and bone slipped back into itself. His dark fur fell out in sweaty clumps. It stuck to him. He grunted and scraped the foul texture from his skin with his claws. He ran his hand along the dew drops and collected what water he could to wash it from himself.

Next time he had to do this, he resolved to remember to bring a towel. He retrieved his dropped bag and began the task of dressing himself while still covered in cold water and wet hair. The sensory stimuli of it was enough to put him in a biting mood. Thankfully there was currently nobody to bite. He was well hidden, yes. But still too far from town.

At least this time he was prepared. If nothing else, he at least had a shirt. One of his band shirts, the Rolling Stones this time, and a pair of blue jeans, with a comfortable pair of practical sneakers. It was the perfect disguise. He slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the highway.

He’d seen this in a film before. The American phenomenon of the “hitch hiker.” Usually these things were the set up for some hapless fool becoming cannon fodder for some movie monster. Strauss wondered if he would make a good movie monster. He was a vampire, after all, but perhaps too mild mannered.

Perhaps he was better suited to the role of the hapless fool.

He stuck his thumb out in a pantomime of the hitchhiker and walked backwards, facing traffic, trying to make eye contact with a passing car. Hypnosis wasn’t an option, with the cars flying by at a high rate of speed. He would have to make due with his old standby. Charity.

With any luck, the first truck to pass by wouldn’t be Ursula with a taser. Headlights beamed into his face and momentarily blinded him. He blinked the green afterimage away. The wind of passing cars swept his hair. He was jealous, a little. He still hadn’t learned to drive one himself. Not for lack of desire, either, but being trusted with a vehicle was a tall order.

He wasn’t having much luck. Despite the trappings of an ordinary human, there was no hiding his height and his gaunt appearance. No doubt he was a creepier hitchhiker than most. He began to feel worry creep up in his throat when finally, a chariot arrived.

A white pick up, one that even Strauss recognized was a “beater,” but it slowed as it passed him, and finally stopped on the road up ahead. He jogged to meet it. Americans were perhaps stupid, but he could usually count on at least one of them to be kind.

Every nation had its redeeming qualities. He approached the door timidly. The window rolled down to reveal a round, jovial looking face within, illuminated by a cigarette. The man reminded him of Troy, though the hair color was all wrong. He smelled worse than Troy. Smelled of alcohol, really, which would explain perhaps why he was less than cautious about a stranger on the road.

“Hey buddy. You need a lift?”

Strauss hesitated. The car stank, and he was already heavily annoyed by his itchy clothes. He was reluctant to push himself. But time was of the essence.

“Yes… I am a transient. I am trying to make it to St. Joseph, up the road.”

“Well shit. You’re in luck then. I’m heading that way.”

“Excellent.” He glanced down at the door. “May I come in?”

“I stopped for you didn’t I?”

It was as explicit an invitation as he would get. He climbed into the grimy truck and immediately fought the urge to make a rude face when his hand slid over the slightly oily cloth texture of the nicotine soaked seats. The stranger was kind, and the ride was short. It would have to do.

“Danke sir. My name is Mr. Strauss. I am fortunate to have found kindness on the road this evening.”

“Mr. Strauss huh? Don’t have a first name you’re willing to start with? You can call me Jonny.”

The stranger snuffed his cigarette and started down the road while Strauss fumbled with his seat belt. “Transient huh? Where you from, then? And what are you doing out here after dark? It’s dangerous to be walking the highway in the dark. I was worried you’d get hit.”

“I am actually from Germany, sir. I am a ‘recent transplant’ to this state, I suppose. I had a bit of… an emergency this evening. I need to get to town to find someone.”

“Germany? Explains why you talk so damn weird. My mother was a German. Maiden name was Schumacher. You know any Schumachers?”

“I cannot say that I do. It is a large country.”

“Large? Pssh. Your little European countries basically all fit inside Texas. It ain’t that large.” Jonny snarked at him. “So, who is it you’re trying to find in the middle of the night so bad you had to walk down the road to go get em?”

“It is difficult to explain.” Strauss rubbed his neck shyly. “Suffice to say, Mr. Jonny, I am looking for a woman.”

“Oooh I get it. Girl troubles.” Jonny laughed. “I know all about that, bud. She what got you here all the way from Germany?”

“I suppose she did, in a way.” Strauss shrugged. “I very much desire to speak with her. I am not so sure she will be so happy to see me.”

“Eh, you’ll be fine. You’re tall and sort of effeminate, chicks love that sort of thing. That goth emo thing. And the accent. You can win her over.”

“I am glad one of us thinks so, sir.”

“So, this girl. What’s she like? Gotta be special to get you so worked up, hm? She got a name?”

“She is quite unique. A sort of rare breed, similar to myself. Her name is Sylvain. She is petit, she has a tan skin tone, very long black hair, and a wide smile full of razor sharp teeth.”

“Hah! Oh man, you should write romance novels. Sylvain you say? That’s another interesting sounding name. She French?”

“I am not sure.”

“Well, maybe if she is you two can bond over pastries and wine or whatever it is Europeans talk about. Soccer I guess. Or do you call it football?”

“It is called football. The entire world calls it that. Only Americans call it soc-”

Jonny hit the brake hard. Strauss’ words were crushed by the seatbelt that locked tight across his chest. The truck began to fish-tail and finally stopped.

“What was that about?” Strauss demanded. He grabbed the seat belt and with a firm yank, something internal had snapped and he could once again move freely.

Jonny sat stock still, hands on the steering wheel, staring blankly ahead.

“Mr. Jonny?”

Strauss tapped his arm. Perhaps his choice of substances had caught up to him. He turned his gaze out the windshield to meet the truth.

Just beyond the halo of headlights was a dim figure. She stood in the middle of the road, slightly illuminated by the truck, but with her face shrouded in night, except for her eyes, which burned like embers in her smiling face.

Strauss sat still, except to re-buckle his seat belt. Sylvain made her way to the driver door and forced it open. She put her hand on Jonny’s shoulder.

“Get out.”

And he did. And immediately fell face first onto the shoulder, before rolling to the ditch. Sylvain climbed in to claim his spot, and spent a moment adjusting her seat and steering wheel.

“So good to see you again Lu. It’s ok if I call you Lu, right?” She grinned as the vehicle slowly made its way back up to highway speed.

“You could have picked a nicer fucking ride, Lu. I’m gonna need to shower after this.”

“Did you just steal a car?”

“Hardly the worst thing either of us has done.” She rolled down her window and casually hung her arm out the side. “About time you showed up. I was worried you were avoiding me.”

“I was.”

“So what’s got you out and about looking for me, then? You had to know you’d bump into me.”

“I had a hunch.” Strauss replied quietly. He was definitely correct earlier, in this set up, he was very much the hapless fool.

“Don’t be so cagy about it. Did the VanHelsings cut you loose? Set you free? You’re rehabilitated enough for society now?”

“Not quite. Frau Harker will no doubt be on the hunt for me shortly, if she is not on the road already.”

“So this must be something important then, if she wasn’t enough to scare you into staying put.”

“I do not want to lie to you, Sylvain.” Strauss looked out the window, away from her. She was difficult to maintain eye contact with. Perhaps her advanced power of suggestion went so far as to affect even other vampires. “Listen. We need to talk.”

“I thought you’d never ask, Lu.”

She turned and smiled wide at him, showing off a grin of shark-like teeth. Both a greeting and a threat.

“Talk, then. But first, you and I are going to have some fun.”

[caktusjuice-draws]

can you even be in a helicopter crash and only one of you comes out with like a less than week long leg injury

Weirder things have happened. Have you heard about that woman who was parachuting and got caught in an updraft? It took her up so high she should't have been able to breathe, she was at freezing heights, and she crash landed from those heights with nothing to break the fall... and she lived. And that was without a structure of transportation protecting her body from bare ground.

... and if im not mistaken was also struck by lightning

So I don't think anything is necessarily outside of possibility when it comes to crashes.

Besides, Adrenaline is a powerful thing. Paul may not have even noticed things like broken bones or bruised organs. The reason he could jump up and run to the starlight was likely pure instinct. Plus he probably has the added autistic benefit of not feeling how bad your injuries are until the next day.

This is coming from me, who had half my face ripped off by a dog when I was six and immediately looked at my grandmother and said "I'm fine" even though a chunk was gone and blood was cascading down my body.

Then again, in Pauls case though... you could always argue that some otherworldly force was protecting him. The show must go on after all.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

🤔 hmm, 23 for Ao3 wrapped??

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

Yesss, I love collabs!!

I wrote I'm just gonna swim (until you love) me for the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang, based on this beautiful art by @hereforanepilogue.

Also for the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang, I wrote Sol Invictus, inspired by this artwork by @waldosakimbo.

Then, I particupated in the Steddie Big Bang, and the amazing @cuips-not-cute drew me not one but two pieces for my fic Updraft.

And then I did a little mini collab with @firefly-party, who drew me something for their own ficlet request as part of my 1k follower celebration.

Plus, I've been working on The King's Gift together with @house-of-the-moving-image for the entirety of this year. We developed the plot for this one together, and are now working on bringing the story to life through our respective mediums.

Working with every single one of these people has been incredible. I love getting glimpses of other people's creative processes and working with them. Can't wait to do it again next year! 🥰

AO3 wrapped

[sonicasura]

In you Corazon in TFP AU, what exactly is the Pteraglider 1? And how is it used?

A Combiner like Bot that serves as the team's aerial support. Pteraglider 1 resembles a pterosaur specifically a mix between Quezalcoatlus and pteranodon. Light blue with red wings plus red crest, around 24'6 in size, finally bears the insignia of the Autobots alongside the Strawhat Pirates.

Pteraglider 1 is made using Wapometal and Cybertronian Steel so it is very durable. Now the bot has two main functions. Surveillance as it can cloak itself thanks to camouflaging technology built in. Last is combining with the Autobots should they need extra help.

By combining, the respective bot is capable of gliding and even temporary flight by using updrafts. The Pteraglider 1 can unleash sonic screams, flame breath, or wind blasts than have standard blaster fire. Finally it can run on any fuel such as soda.

Franky figured it was time to even the playing field for once.

[moonamite]

Updraft plus tail feathers plus flight feathers