Our DM regrets everything

So our level 7 party was hired by a king to get an object from a dragon’s lair in exchange for an items that was part of one of our party member’s personal story quest. We got into the blue dragon’s lair, killed it’s children, then waited ambush style for it to get home. The fight basically went like this:

DM: The blue dragon flies into its lair

Party: Surprise Round!

DM: Yup… Surprise Round

Sorcerer: Hey, do you two want 150ish hitpoints and to hit like a fighter twice your level?

Bard: Sure

Fighter: Sure

Sorcerer: I use twin spell to cast polymorph on both of them. They’re both giant apes now

The party proceeded to beat down the dragon while one giant ape beat on it and the other grappled it to the ground. We then leveled, got 100,000gp each, and got magic item loot from the dragon’s hoard. Our dual-classed Arcane Archer Kensai Monk (basically Zen archer for 5e) got the Oathbow.

A few encounters later, our party is now level 8. As a level 8 party of 7 characters we decide to fight the Pit Fiend in front of us instead of run away. Here’s how that fight went:

DM: The Pit Fiend hasn’t noticed you yet.

Party: Surprise Round!

DM: Yup… Surprise Round

Sorcerer: Who wants to be giant apes?

Bard: Sure

Fighter: Sure

Sorcerer: I do the thing.

The party then proceeds to fight the Pit Fiend. The Pit Fiend knocks the bard out of giant ape form and knocks him unconscious, and the fight is getting pretty rough. That’s when our SuperArcher decided this had gone on for too long…

Archer: So it’s taken 5 rounds of great apes, paladin smites, chromatic orbs, and oathbow shots right?

DM: Yup

Archer: Alright. This combat is taking too long. Action Surge, Sharpshooter on all four attacks, that’s 22, 23, 21, and 21 to hit?

DM: They all hit

Archer: That’s 1d8+3d6+15 four times… 

DM: *proceeds to close his Monster Manual and start folding up his DM screen*

Archer: That’s 112 magical piercing damage total.

DM: You all triple level… yay…

Do It Again

Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1219

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Back scratching? Is that a warning?

A/N: Could I request a spn fic where Sam and Dean are on a hunt and the reader decides to pamper herself and gets long false nails and once Sam notices he asks for head massages and it could lead to smut with back scratching?

The hunt had been long and exhausting, the witch you were tracking draining every last bit of energy from all of you before you managed to find and kill her. Having told the boys you’d meet them at the motel, you swooped into the salon in the town and decided to treat yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you had decided to do anything like this. As you walked back, you couldn’t take your eyes off your newly manicured fingers, the acrylic nails shining with the deep red polish which covered them, and you smiled remembering the old you who would do this often. But you didn’t miss her, you had far too much fun now.

When you finally reached the motel, Dean’s car was gone but the motel light shone through the window. Opening the door, you saw Sam, hunched over his laptop and you laughed to yourself.

“Please tell me you’re not looking for another case after the week we’ve just had,” you sighed, sauntering over to where he sat.

He let out a scoff, glancing up at you before he returned his attention to the screen. Folding your arms across his broad shoulders, you leaned down, over his shoulder and looked at the screen to see a news report he was half reading.

“What do you think?” his head turned towards you and you realised you hadn’t been reading the screen at all, just standing there lulled into the soft rhythm of Sam’s breathing. Your fingers were teasing the ends of his hair as it hovered over his collar and you let out a shaky breath.

“About what?” Your fingers carded through his hair as he sat, pulling the brown locks gently before you let your nails scratch lightly at his scalp. You leaned further down and pressed a kiss to his jaw, one hand remaining in his hair, while the other moved down his chest.

He let out a contented sigh, his eyes dropping shut as you continued to feather kisses along his jaw and down his neck. His head dropped back against the chair and you stopped when he opened one eye at you.

“What?” you grinned down at him and he grinned back, the dimples in his cheeks standing out in the shadows of the room.

“That feels really good,” he let out a chuckle and shut his eyes again in a silent request for you to carry on. But before you could, he sat up, “wait a minute,” he frowned in confusion before he noticed your new nails, a stark contrast to the practical hunter nails you usually sported.

“Thought I’d treat myself,” you shrugged, dipping your hand back into his hair, playing with the strands at the back of his head, “and you…”

“I hope that means head massage,” he smiled, his eyes wide as he looked up at you.

Nodding, you laughed as he leapt from his seat, shed his flannel shirt and dove to lay on his stomach across the bed.

Keep reading


Nectarine No. 9 by Blue Ruin 1

<br /><i>Via Flickr:</i>
<br />This image is from a German postcard, postmarked 1905.