#there is a chance she liked Mystra and is a dick about it in which case fuck her but I find this more amusing

[fkitwebhaal]

In contrast to Ulder Ravenguard, I think Gale could bring any of the Origins home as his fiancee and Morena Dekarios would be fine with it.

I am saying this not as a jab against Ulder or even claiming Morena is a better parent than him (we don't know anything about her except her and Gale seem to get along).

I say this solely because if your son gets dumped by a Goddess, has a magical orb that is stuck in his chest, spends a year in a tower refusing to leave, vanishes without a word, and then shows up months later minus said orb AND in a happy relationship? And that person talked him out of blowing himself up for said Goddess and helped him save the world? IDGAF who he brought home as long as they genuinely love him and treat him well.

Women my son is going to Hell for to fix her heart. Not an ideal place for him to be but fuck it, he's getting out of the house, as long as they send post cards.

Former warlock who was cursed by patron and is now either a duke (heck yes) or going to Hell for his bestie and my son is going with. Same as above, sounds great, did you know my son's fiancee can dance.

Warrior from the astral plane going to fight a lich queen? I cannot stress how exciting it is to see him to get out of the house and she can and will carry him to safety, zero objections.

Vampire spawn? A little blood loss is WAY BETTER than the orb situation, just make sure to watch your iron intake son. Eat more spinach.

Former cultist to an evil God? Let bygones be bygones, key word here is former.

Former leader of a cult of an evil god. KEY WORD HERE IS FORMER IT'S FINE.

#morena dekarios #gale dekarios #i want to be clear I am not bashing ulder morena isn't a politician so she has less to worry about #if she was in a position of power THIS IS A DIFFERENT STORY #but as far as I know she isn't and so I'm having fun with it #shadowheart #karlach #astarion #wyll ravengard #dark urge #lae'zel #also to clarify on my former post #ulder does try to play nice with any and all of wylls potential partners he knows he fucked up he will cope #i'm just saying mystra set the bar fucking low #there is a chance she liked Mystra and is a dick about it in which case fuck her but I find this more amusing #ulder and morena handshake: keeping objections about their sons choice in partner to them damn selves

[dfordragons]

The Divine & The Damned

The last of the unfortunate explorer of Glimmerwood, now entangled in poisonous animated vines was finally blown away by the silver-haired elfs peculiar yet somewhat majestic purple eldritch beams before she got back to scratching her painfully itchy injuries.

“That’s it?”

A deep voice sounded from under the black helmet with the meticulous resemblance of a skull, the dark tone of which was mitigated only by a grey gem embedded in its centre as he perceived the environment around them. The weeping that had surrounded the forest for a while had yet to stop, if anything, it only grew stronger.

“I think so?” A taller, slender man responded; his pale skin highlighted his blue eyes.

“Oh no” A dwarven girl, sharing the same colour tone as the elvish figure said in awe.

“Rynvia? What is it?” Another dwarf patted her on the shoulder, unlike her, he was covered in deep wounds from his bald head to the toes most likely, but nobody could see below his shoulders with the swamp water up to their neck.

The weeping grew stronger as a figure hovered from tree to tree.

The figure in the skull helmet went back into his battle stance, yet he knew not what they were even talking about, he wasn’t the most perceptive, nor the sharpest tool in the shed.

“Okay make us fly, Doronin make us fly right now!”

He screamed as he eventually saw the figure approach, hovering and crying, but magic wasn’t that simple.

The hovering figure looked magnificent as she approached them, her messy, green hair had a charm to it, while her blue eyes only added to the wood-elven characteristics she bore. Yet her translucent figure only spelled trouble in their heads. As she saw them she stopped weeping, well, sort of.

“Who.. Who is this?” she asked.

“She talks..?”

“She talks.”

“Wow.”

“She’s so pretty.”

They all whispered amongst them.

“I..Am Leonard?” he said through the helmet as he sensed her undead nature.

“And I’m Doronin” sounded the declared sorcerer from a safe range.

“And Rynvia” the dwarven girl said in awe while the other dwarf stayed silent as did the elven figure, not a few seconds passed before she took note of her.

“And you…You…Who are you?” She said as she hovered towards her, in just as much awe as Rynvia spoke to her. Her eyes pinned on her.

In an awkward, somewhat troubled by her behaviour tone she responded hesitantly

“I’m Yliv.”

“You’re so pretty Yliv” she continued

“She is isn’t she?” He mumbled before getting back to his senses

“That’s not the point, who are you, what are you doing here?” Leonard turned around to look at her, still sceptical and caught off guard.

“I…” she scratched her translucent head.. “I don’t remember who I am” she said as she started crying again

“I remember I was so pretty… And this forest was so pretty…” all of them looked around in the horrible swamp they were currently in.

Rynvia remembered, she remembered the vision she had from Lyreth, the one who had sent them there. The one who had started this quest of theirs. She remembered how pretty the forest was, and grew sad knowing what it turned into.

“But then.. Fire.. A mad dragon.. A FUCKING HORRIBLE DRAGON. MEN ARE DICKS” She screeched as she continued remembering,

“AND THIS SLUT, THIS HORRIBLE SLUT CAME FROM ALL THE DEATH AND DECAY AND TOOK EVERYTHING AWAY. EVERYHING. USED MY OWN PROTECTORS AGAINST ME. THIS SLUT.”

Her voice pierced their ears as they were trying to listen yet cover them. They all looked at each other. Her eyes never stopped looking towards Yliv in awe despite the hatred in her voice.

“Um..” Leonard broke the silence after her bipolar monologue.

“But you’re so pretty” she continued saying towards Yliv.

“You are too” she responded awkwardly

“But I’m dead” she started weeping again.

The rest stayed silent before Leonard continued.

“Have.. Have you by any chance come upon a pretty tree.. Like Yliv?”

Without looking away, she responded in a sweet voice

“A pretty tree.. I like that tree.. But I can’t get close..”

Yliv figured that this was due to her not being part of the living, her experienced had taught her at least that much.

“Would you be able to take us to that tree?” Doronin added.

“I.. I could.”

“We could also help you with this.. Slut?” Leonard continued

“This slut.. THIS SLUT. SHE’S A HAG. SHE’S A HORRIBLE HAG.”

“How about you take us to the tree, and once we are done there we will help you with her.” He tried to reason with the creature.

“What is this?” the dwarf whispered to Rynvia

“I think that’s a Banshee, Dean. But she’s so pretty” she responded with her pupils dilated as he grew silent, unsure of if her response was troubling or reassuring.

“I can guide you there.. Because.. Because you are pretty” she continued looking at her.

“I shall lead the way.. Do you want to lead with me Yliv?” she said eagerly.

“I think I’m better in the back.. Looking around….” Her tone was more of a questioning tone on whether this excuse would work than a statement.

“Okay..” She said disappointed as she led them.

“But stay.. Stay quiet, my creatures.. My beautiful creatures from this THIEVING SLUT are very perceptive”

They treaded for hours in the swamp waters and the mud before reaching the drier part of the swamp. The humidity combined with the summer heat even below the thick tree line wasn’t making their journey any easier. Eventually they decided to settle for the night in a hollow tree trunk. It wouldn’t fit all of them, but someone had to keep watch.

Yliv against her better judgement decided to go above the tree line to measure the distance towards the bespoke tree. She soon found out that she should’ve trusted her instinct, as she turned into a raven, she flew through the tree line.

Before she knew it she became entangled in a spiders net. The only problem was that the spider was much bigger than anticipated. Lucky for her, as a giant raven she was also stronger than her average bird, breaking free from the web right before she became dinner. Flying down entangled in the web she had an anomalous, yet still elegant landing.

“Um.. You have white stuff on your hair” Doronin pointed out while the rest laughed.

“Could be worse.” She responded.

“Was everything okay up there?” he continued

“Everything was fine.” She smiled back before turning her back and facing the creepy, yet somewhat cute Banshee they had met.

“So how far are we?” Leonard asked

“I couldn’t see much.” She responded before Kaylen, Doronins owl flew upwards.

Luckily, he was much more elegant than a giant raven. Seeing through him, Doronin saw the beautiful night sky without the light pollution of Westgate, but not much else aside from small, star-like looking lights far from where they came from, perhaps the Irraebor. Coming down from his brief flight, the party had decided to gather a few materials for a fire.

Doronin, willingly scattered to find possible materials to use, before sticking his blade handle on a tree and.. Taking a piss.

In the meanwhile, Dean stayed with the ladies, rather silent.

Until everyone except for Dean heard in their mind

“Dear Arthur”

“Dear Rynvia”

“Dear Yliv”

“Dear Doronin”

“I, Lord of Waterdeep, Chosen of Mystra, Laeral Silverhand summon you to have an audience with me about your recent claims. Force Grey will meet you and accompany you from Irraebor to Waterdeep safely. They shall await at the Black Talon Headquarters for 3 days starting tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

The authoritarian voice finally seized to speak.

“Um..We’re kind of busy.” Rynvia responded while Yliv didn’t bother responding.

“Don’t. Be. Late.”

Doronin stuttered in the sound of the Lord of Waterdeep

“Um.. Can we get an extension or something? We’re out of town for now.”

The same response as Rynvia sounded in his mind.

“We’re in the middle of something here. Isn’t the fact that the king of Cimbar has said so?”

Leonard had grew in cockiness

“The king of..” she said laughingly in his mind

“It’s funny, because the king of Cimbar is here for talks these days.. Tell me, when were you the king Arthur?”

Leonard started panicking. His brother was there. If he was there, that was bad.

“Listen closely. Do not trust him.”

“You listen closely. Don’t. Be. Late”

“I won’t be responsible for you losing your kingdom.”

He never heard back.

“So I was wondering.. Where did you say you got that armor from?”

Yliv asked Dean while resting in the tree trunk, fully knowing the armor was identical to the bladesinger she had met a few days ago.

“This Vanduin tailored it for me.. It was a gift for winning my first fight in Ysgard.”

“So everything has a price for him?”

“Proving yourself is his moto.. Not one I’m fond of, I died many times in this place, rather not talk about it” he said in a more serious tone

“I understand.”

Rynvia was just looking at her brother, both happy and nostalgic about how they were as kids.

“I..” He took out a small gem stone

“I have this.”

“What’s this?” Yliv tried to get a closer look to the stone

“It’s meant to take me back if I wish”

“And.. Do you?”

“Not really, but it’s something I thought that’s cool” he smiled back at her and looked towards Rynvia

“We have to find our brother.”

Leonard overheard the last sentence as he was coming back from his gathering trip with Doronin.

“I believe we have to speak, Dean, Rynvia.” He also said in a serious, yet somewhat uncomfortable manner.

“Yes?..”  She responded.

“I had told you that before I ran away I was a general of the army of Cimbar..”

“Yes?..” She kept repeating

“Well, we were fighting barbarians in the mountains for a while, at some point we fought these Bhaal priests, at that time Bhaal was unknown to me, aside from them being murderous heretics.”

They both remained silent.

“Long story short.. I think your brother was a high priest for them.. And he may be in our dungeon..”

Both of their eyes went wide, no, everyones eyes went wide.

“WHAT?”

They both screamed.

“And.. This thing you described, Dean. About him being a different person after touching this staff. I believe it’s the same thing that happened with my helmet.”

“OH NO” Rynvia screamed

Indeed, the situation was dire, he had fought for his life against this cursed helmet before claiming it against a Bhaalspawn, he called himself. He was warned that should he fail, his soul would be trapped in the helmet, and instead, his body would now be used by whoever sat in the helmet, waiting for a victory for so long.

“I had a message from the Lord of Waterdeep, she said that my brother is there for talks”

“We did too” Rynvia spoke for both her and Yliv.

“Same here” Doronin raised his hand.

“We could potentially intercept him once we’re done here, but first I need you to contact Fenduin and have him plead to Silverhand not to trust my brother.” He said as she Rynvia already started tracing the spell glyph in the air.

“Um… Hi.” She said counting words with her fingers.

“Tell Silverhand, not to trust the king of Cimbar…” She said looking at Leo in a ‘Is that fine?’ fashion, nodding back at her.

It wasn’t long before she heard Fenduins calm voice and elven manners respond.

“I already have done so as promised. Glad to hear you’re alive. I’m in traveling to Irraebor looking for this Alia Arthur had mentioned…”

As she transferred the message to Leonard a sigh of relief sounded

“At least there’s some good news.”

It was good news indeed; she was the only thing that he missed from home. Although as of lately, the feelings of nostalgia had started fading away, or rather replaced with the fulfilment of the present, maybe for the better.

Under the wing of a powerful political figure and archmagi, she would have little to fear, he hoped.

Conversing back and forth, eventually the party ended with the hope of returning Leo to power in Cimbar, and, getting her brother out of whatever predicament he had found himself in, assuming it was a similar case.

“Maybe have a convict touch the staff, then he can take their body”

“Or maybe a different race, did he ever want to be something else when he was little..Like.. Taller?”

The conversation went on and on before they eventually warmed a few stones to bring into the hollow tree to keep them warm, a fire would probably attract unwanted attention.

“I can keep watch…” said the Banshee smilingly.

“Um..” Leonard doubted her.

“I’ll do it, I don’t sleep” Yliv continued

Her patron had given her many gifts indeed, curing her insomnia was one of them, there’s no insomnia when there’s no need to sleep.

“And if she does anything weird, I’ll wake you up.” She said in all seriousness this time around.

Leonard stayed out with her for a while before passing out, trying not to stare at her like the Banshee did.

“So.. It’s been a while since we stayed in the same room, I miss being roomates..” he muttered before he said it out a little too loud for his own good.

“Really?” she responded.

“I was used to having someone creepy staying awake all night.” He said laughingly, but with a few pinches of truth in there.

“Well, we’ve grown richer, and more comfortable.”

“That’s true.. But it was pretty nice” He kept hinting with no luck.

“Do you like it?” He pointed at the owl hair pin he had paid rather handsomely for.

“I do, I hope I never have to use it though” she responded as she played with the magical strings.

Each of the strings once broken would emit a painful ping in the receivers mind. Yet they would also let them know that someone was in trouble.

“It’s a good night.” He said looking.. Well, at the trees above them, possibly for any giant spiders.

“Oh, good night” She said before his eyes went wide in awe

“No I meant it’s a good night..”

She busted out laughing.

“True.”

And so the night passed, Leonard passed out near trunk entrance, with the Banshee staring at Yliv all night long, her idea of ‘keeping watch’ was vastly different from what the group had in mind. There was no dawn break to measure the time, nor there were any birds to be heard, but few light rays eventually started penetrating the thick swamp.

As she blinked, she bathed in darkness. She knew this darkness, she had grown in it, she felt safe. Yet it felt different, the Queen was not there to greet her, nor could she hear her steps.

Another blink, and she appeared amidst a village square. It rang no memory bells. People screamed and ran away as she walked towards the source of terror. Only to see what she originally thought to be a tiefling standing above a crying female elven teenager. An older male elf begged for mercy as the bodies of villagers lied on the ground. From where his spine was, bones that were as sharp as razors came out.

“Do not worry, I shall not hurt her, but our deal was I could have anything I wanted.. Anything that you owned.. You own this village..” the tiefling said with a grin in his face.

As she blinked once more, she was back to the swamp, with the Banshee creepily staring at her, yet Yliv finding it weirdly comforting that she was indeed still there. Whatever that was, it was new. And she wasn’t sure it was for the best.

Staying out during the night was rough, she was sure to catch a cold, yet Leonard slept outside too, he was too big for the tree trunk, or perhaps he was just making sure she was safe. And his warmth, even when he slept, kept her from catching a cold in the middle of nowhere. Leonard, on the other hand had ironically woken up with a cough in the morning.

Rynvia opened her eyes to the sight of Doronins peculiar owl indiscreetly staring at her chest. It wasn’t long before she regretted the fact that she could talk. With her being a minor annoyance, she snapped her fingers as battlecries sounded in the forest. Leonard jumped out of his sleep, grabbed his sword and charged towards the sound at the distance. Rynvia may have gone a little overboard with her thaumaturgic cantrip, but she sat back and enjoyed the reaction nevertheless.

It wasn’t long before she called the cantrip off. Leonard had only ran some meters away, still within the vicinity of Yliv and the rest as he stopped, listening carefully after the abrupt ending of the screams. It was then that he heard the sound of multiple insectoids screeching around him, preparing for their first meal of the day. A dozen of ooze-leaking spiders had started coming around him, probably attracted from his own battle cry. They didn’t look very threatening, aside from being the size of his palm. With the rest of his comrades rushing to help, Rynvia wrestling each of them until they were squished while Dean, Yliv and Doronin had a the backseat of electrocuting and barbecuing them, it was over quickly.

“That was eas---” Leonard spoke too quickly as one had crawled inside his plate armor, he felt its teeth.. Or was it claws? Dragging along his back, her acidic poison burning him to the bone as he screamed in pain. It looked bad, but nothing Rynvia couldn’t take care of with the divine powers Liira had entrusted her with.

Despite their victory, they kept looking around for the ‘barbarians’ Leonard had heard… Rynvia never told him the truth, she liked her head in-tact, plus, nobody would argue about the fun factor of the situation they had gotten themselves in without anyone getting hurt.. A lot.

The party proceeded eating their not-so-glorious breakfast compared to their time spent in Westgate, at the Baron Fenduins keep, or any other day before their arrival to the mansion, be it a casino ship, or representing a magic shop owner at the fighting tournament in Oakrun. The banshee slowly but steadily led them through the drier parts of the swamp towards the tree they had been talking about all along.

Eventually, they arrived. The dim light from the thick forest line of the swamp finally started breaking by the summer sun. The dirty waters and the musty, somewhat decaying smell around them started changing. In front of them lied a clear, deep blue lake. A small island sat in the middle of it, bearing a tree beautiful enough to make up for the entire unfriendly swamp that they had treaded in.

“That’s as far as I can go” said the Banshee as if she was about to cry..Again.

“We’ll be back” Leo assured her as he started taking off his armor.

“I can make us walk on water” Rynvia said halfway, receiving a miffed look from Leonard which spent the last 5 minutes donning off his equipment ever so slowly.

After a bunch of small discussions on how wise it would be to walk on top of uncharted waters, they had decided to take the risk. Leonard took the first step in while fully expecting to sink, to his surprise, he didn’t. Yet something else occurred.

A pinching sensation surrounded him from head to toe, for a split second he wanted his skin to melt off him, before a peculiar sense of warmth he hadn’t sensed in a while surrounded him. The smell of lilac replaced the smell of the swamp entirely. His dark, somewhat rusty helmet became partially grey, as if it was purged from the misdeeds of the past.

The rest followed, experiencing similar sensations, with Rynvia being the least affected, she was used the divine energy surrounding her, yet not necessarily that kind.

After treading rather quickly to the other side of the shore, hoping they wouldn’t attract any lake predators, they had arrived to the centre of the island. The warmth grew ever more stronger with every step towards the tree. The entire island was covered in its roots. Pink petals were scattered in the air and in the ground. None of them could remember the last time they encountered something this beautiful. Edgar, Ylivs Raven went on a patrol with Kaylen to scout ahead. Through his eyes she saw a tall statue of questionable material standing near the tree bearing an inscription at the bottom of the platform it stood on. In the meanwhile, Leonard examined the tree through his divine senses. The entire place seemed to overflow with abjuration magic, whilst a stronger aura came from the statue. The tree itself radiated with divine magic. He proceeded to touch the tree, looking for potential passage, yet only found a small hollow, only enough for his hand to fit through.

Rynvia took an alternative approach, deciding to hug it instead, while her brother kept an eye out for potential threats. The warmth as she hugged it overtook her with positive emotions. She remembered this place through her vision of the past. The dying place of a deity. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for what had happened to her.

At the same time, Yliv and Doronin examined the inscription plate of the statue, it read;

“Only the bold and the worthy shall be blessed by her divine grace. Those who prey and steal shall lose much fore than their filthy hands”

Simultaneously, Leonard had already placed his hand in the hollow, using the bag Lyreth had given them in their first encounter, remembering his words on the potential hazards of the item he had sent them to recover. As his hand went deeper, he could feel the warm pulse of whatever lied in there.

Yliv and Doronin were debating on what the inscription could mean, clueless of what was going on behind them. The statue was marvellous. It wasn’t stone yet it was sturdy as stone, it wasn’t plate but it shined just as much. And last but not least, it may have only been a statue, but they felt intimidated.

And then, Leonard finally pulled something from the tree.

“I got it.”

He said loudly.

As they turned around and headed towards him, he felt the abjuration magic that surrounded them fade away, the tree had started to wither. Rynvia started screaming to Leonard to put it back as it turned into just another tree of the swamp. The dirty waters that were being kept out finally slipped in the blue lake, the water slowly became muddier by the second. The smell of lilac had turned into the musty smell of the swamp waters. Yet he felt something else, as he saw Doronin and Yliv head his way, the abjuration magic from the statue did not cease to exist. Instead, as they turned around they saw the statue leaking of blue, most likely arcane energy from every part of it where its armor had a gap. The runes on its shield and weapon had brightened up, as it stepped off the platform.

Leonard wasn’t surprised but wanted to get its attention to protect the rest. And so he did;

He walked forward with the stone in hand. The statue remained in position. Everyone who could sweat within their party was already sweating.

The phrase below the platform started echoing from within it. Yet nobody knew what it meant. The knew that it was neutral, for now at least, towards them.

“We are not here to steal.”

He said.

“We.. We work for Lyreth?” He hoped a name would work.

It didn’t.

“Orion maybe?”

Neither did that. Or potentially the language was not correct.

Doronin decided to step it, not for the good of the group necessarily, but because he secretly wanted this very stone himself, but nobody ever really suspected it.

“I could speak to it in celestial, just give me the stone so I can have its attention”

Leonard passed the stone to him unknowingly.

Repeating the very same steps, no progress was made. With the statue eventually slowly clobbering his shield and weapon, Doronin took it as an act of aggression. That wasn’t the case, not until he put the stone in the bag at his side. From 40 feet, the statue took a step only to leap a breath away from Doronins space. They all had finally realised its true height, standing at just about 7 feet it was already intimidating before it was animated. Yet it didn’t attack.

“Bad move. Let’s reset this.” He thought as he took the stone from his bag and held it in front of him once more using the bag as a glove.

“What do you want us to do?” He spoke in celestial as the statue extended his arm that had yet to unsheathe his sword. He placed the stone on it with the bag, before the statue tore the bag apart and left it on its open palm.

“You said you weren’t allowed to touch the stone..Why?” He looked at the rest

“Not sure.” Yliv responded.

“Do you trust this Lyreth?”

“He looked genuine. Why?” Leonard said

Doronin wasn’t sure but he was getting the message to touch the stone.

They spent quite some time debating their next move while the echoes of the inscription kept sounding through the statue. Eventually, they had decided if one was to touch it, it should be Rynvia. The purest of them.

She walked up and Doronin tied to pick her up before realising dwarves are not as light as they look. She slowly climbed up the statue before she touched the stone. The magnificent energy she felt flowing from it was majestic, yet it soon turned into scorching pain, but she didn’t leave it. She fell on the ground with it and kept holding it.

What the rest saw was Rynvia slowly turning into dust, that’s where her brother stepped in and grabbed the stone with her, slowing its effects while looking at the rest. They were all hesitant, yet she wouldn’t let it go, and they wouldn’t let her go. Leonard stepped in next, with Doronin and Yliv following suit. The energy overwhelmed them as they were trying to hold it for as long as they possibly could

‘The worthy and the bold’

Gif Taken from: https://www.quora.com/Avengers-Endgame-Why-wasnt-Tony-disintegrated-after-holding-the-stones-just-like-guardians-of-the-Galaxy-in-GOTG-vol-1

It kept repeating into their minds before a shockwave sent threw them on their backs. A cloud of shimmering dust was raised by whatever had just occurred as they called for each other.  

Eventually the dust settled, they all lied on the ground looking at each other. Dean rushed to Rynvia making sure she’s alright, only to realise a halo flickered on top of her. Rynvia looked at him as he was running towards him as his movement seemed otherworldly as if he glitched. Doronin saw both as he realised sparks of lightening, or static electricity were flickering in the same manner, he turned to Leonard as he felt an uncomfortable wave of heat radiating from him, yet there was nothing to note.

“Maybe the arcane users had experienced a malfunction due to the arcane explosions” he thought.

“Wow.”

Said Leonard as he looked around him making sure everyone is alright before finally stumbling on Ylivs otherworldly appearance. He always found her clothing style creepy, possibly because of the cloak of raven feathers that occasionally seemed to somewhat animate on its own while making the dim candlelight in the room that they used to share even dimmer. But this time it was different. Her eyes constantly flickered between green and endless, pupil less purple glitter. As if the sky had found refuge within.

Yliv looked at him with a curious grimace

“Huh?”

“Your eyes” he pointed

“Um..”

“Oh shit, the stone!” he remembered as he started looking around. The statue that was previously echoing the inscription on its platform now lied on the floor, half shattered in dust and the rest partially dipped within the ground. They all searched for the stone with no luck. Instead, using his divine senses he felt a beat of divinity from each of them, including himself. Unsettling, yet warm.

Looking around them, they quickly assumed they wouldn’t be the only ones who heard the loud explosion, with whatever little was left from Rynvias miraculous water walking ability, they started rushing for the shore, away from the opening which could end up being an arena, or a tomb.

While crossing, they saw two figures heading towards the island before noticing their presence. A tall, grey haired man alongside a red haired woman started to approach them.

“Yo, Doronin” she shouted from afar.

“Shit” He thought, quickly clenching his fist and muttering an incantation silently to replicate the stone they had just lost.

Being a mistrusting bunch, they kept on their course until they reached the shore, with the two figures quickly catching up to them.

“Long time no see, comrade” She smiled as she walked towards them. She wasn’t as elegant as he had originally met her, partially bloodied and worn off. With the head of a some forest creature hanging on her side.

The rest looked at him curiously

“Who is she?”

Yliv said first

“Oh? I thought you’d mention me to them already, I’m somewhat offended.”

The man behind her seemed at a much better condition, one would doubt he had even drawn his sword during whatever encounter they had in the forest.

Rynvia, seeng she was wounded, gave her a.. Hug.

She was just as surprised being on the receiving end

“That’s some good illusion magic, I’ll give you that”

she said as she noted the flickering halo on top of her head.

Leonard looked for their newly baptised Banshee, Geltrud, with little luck.

“Before we go on, have you seen a banshee by any chance?” Leonard interrupted

“A..Banshee?” she responded while the man stayed silent.

“Yeah, we sort of promised we’d take care of a hag for her.”

The rest of the party mentally face palmed while this conversation took place.

“Met a hag, killed a hag.” she pointed towards some partially destroyed woods on the other side of the lake.

“Are you sure she was a hag?”

“It was a hag. She can give one hell of a massage” she said as she fixed her dislocated shoulder.

“Well, that makes it easier for us, I still wanted to say goodbye but I guess there’s no nee—”

“I can see you’re in a hurry so let’s make this quick, Doronin, that is Nathan, Nathan, that is Doronin.”

Nathan looked at him surprised

“I’ll be damned. So it is true” looking at him somewhat fascinated from whatever he thought he looked at.

Doronin looked in awe

“Wait..” his eyes went wide.

“I promised you information, I found the next best thing.” She said smilingly at him as she extended her wrist, he knew what she expected.

“Wait, wait” he said repeatedly.

“What are you saying? This is my..Dad?”

Nathan laughed

“I’m not your father boy. But I am an associat—”

“No more talking before you hand over the stone.”

The rest had finally began to catch up with whatever was taking place.

“The stone?” Leonard looked at Doronin.

“You didn’t tell them about being one of the good guys either? Really Doronin?” she sighed.

“You threatened me not—”

“And I thought you’d know better than that” she interrupted again.

“Oh well, that’s something you can work on later, may I have the stone, please?”

“Why would you want the stone, and who are you?” Yliv moved forward

“Oh? My name is not necessary, my mission is. The stone rightfully belongs to Ezekiel, and that is more than enough of a reason for me to acquire it.”

“Eze..Who?”

“Look, girl. We’re the good guys, you can hand over the stone as you have no need for it. In return, we will make sure everyone in the realm remains safe. Win-win, see?”

“I don’t. We are working for the good guys too.”

“Oh? And who would that be?” she said as her eyes flickered for a second as she rested her hand on the grip of her sword.

“I’d be careful with your response.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It very much does.”

While the conversation went back and forth, Rynvia silently prayed to Liira to calm the spirits.. It wasn’t a good idea. As the calming hymn sounded towards the woman she hugged, she looked down, knowing what she had just tried as she pulled her sword.

“Tell me, is that what the good guys do? Charming everyone else?”

In the meanwhile, Doronin had sneaked away and towards Nathan.

“So.. You know my dad?” he tried saying without his voice breaking.

“Yes.” Nathan looked at him with even more interest, and somewhat sadness as he was closer.

“How would I know?”

“We can arrange a rendezvous. And you can meet him. How else?” he said stoically towards him.

“Wow” he said astonished.

As the scene became more heated on the side of the party, Nathan drew his sword and took a swift slash towards the red-haired woman, severing her head.

“That just made things much easier.”

Leonard said looking at Nathan.

“It has. I am going to try and say this once, please, leave. I have business to attend with Doronin.”

Doronin looked back at him.

The rest of the party looked towards him.

“We can’t really do that.” Rynvia responded.

“This man just betrayed your trust. Are you willing to defend someone like this?”

“He’s right.” Leonard thought

“No, but he has to explain himself.”

He looked around them.

Doronin started explaining the story to the rest, while the atmosphere grew more static by the minute.

Nathan didn’t stop looking at each of them with pinches of regret.

“My dear Doronin. What you have just narrated was the story of how secrets never stay secrets unless you’re the only one that knows about them.. And I, have to be the only one who knows about what happened to you and your mother. I want you to understand, I never wanted to do this, nor do I want to do what I am about to do. But it was for the greater good. The good I and your father have done; I can’t allow it to be undone. Not for a single life. “ Nathan followed as Doronin finished his story.

He raised is open palm towards the party, as neon blue sparks flew from him towards them. It had finally occurred to Doronin, his powers were identical to Nathans, identical to the ones that Aerdrie had slowly been handing over to him from when he was struck as a new-born. The overflowing energy shook everyone to their core, most of them barely made it while Leonard stood in front, taking most of it. Doronin was overflowing with lightening, a little more barely harmed him. Yet he knew the gap between their power levels was unprecedented. While angry, he maintained his composure to think. He had to survive.

“Please.” He looked at the rest, “Leave.”

Dean had rushed towards him seeing his sister overwhelmed, taking two swings at Nathan, slightly disrupted from the eldritch energy coming his way, as well as keeping Leonard at bay in combination with Deans peculiar fighting technique he managed to tear a small wound on his otherwise stone-hardened skin. In return, Nathans sword flew out of its sheathe, while unpredictable, Deans reflexes saved him, only for it to make a 180 degree turn before stabbing him in the back. Rynvia saw this, as he kneeled and coughed blood on the ground. A bolt of divine light gathered in her palm as she shot it towards him with all her might. Nathan didn’t move, he instead stood in front of it, taking it in full force, only to barely be scratched to Rynvias surprise.

Radiant energy burst from Nathan, knocking Dean unconscious as Doronin and Leonard could hold their ground. Doronin muttered an incantation as he started growing in size, ripping apart his armor. White body hair started replacing the tears in his armor with electric blue highlights as he roared and tried to punch Nathan. It was then that Nathans wings finally spurted, lightening the blow of the giant ape before he took off the ground to gain the higher ground on them. Rynvia barely ever missed with the hammer she was given by Tristan, yet Nathan not only evaded it, but used it as a boost to fly higher.  

The fight kept breaking out, yet the more blows the party missed the more they realised that their enemy was formidable. Too formidable even. Yet he was holding back. He wasn’t actively trying to kill them; he was trying to make them falter. Leonard had never sensed this scorching aura from a being before. If they did manage to take him down, it wouldn’t be without sacrifices.

Leonard kept seeing himself within Nathan, as Nathan did see himself in Leonard. They shared the same sense of duty, making absolute sacrifices for the greater good. He couldn’t fight him, not like this, not for someone who had just jeopardised their trust. He went near Yliv as he asked her to trust him and follow his lead, unknowingly of what he was about to do, she nodded. Nathan had finally found their weakness; Comradeship.

A glimmer of hope grew when one of Ylivs blasts finally landed while the ache from her hex symbol on his face had him lose his edge for a split second, only to wilt as he rushed through the party, grabbing her by the neck and scooping her off her feet. He was worn off, they all were.

“Stop.” Leonard shouted as Nathans sword had just landed in his arm as he was about to pierce through her chest.

“We don’t want to fight you anymore, you were right.”

He continued, while Nathan looked at him, somewhat confused. He could sense lies, and Leonard wasn’t lying.

He took his sword up and slashed towards Dorinin with necrotic energy overflowing from his sword.

Doronin roared in pain, even in his adrenaline-induced form as blood gashed out of his wound.

Leonard looked towards Rynvia, nodding at her, she was confused but trusted him, she knew the situation was dire, she then started taking swings. Yliv wasn’t sure what was happening, yet she held tight on her staff as she waited for the right moment the tides would turn.

Dean was appalled, but his sister had asked signalled him to follow, he couldn’t afford risking her life.

Doronin eventually started turning back to his plane touched Aasimar form, as he panted, bleeding, he muttered an incantation while coughing blood. He flipped a diamond in the air, and from the diamond came fire. Fire strong enough to match the breath of a dragon. Nathan was caught off guard, yet he stood there, taking it. His face had partially melted as he walked towards Doronin, always with regret.

“You can leave. You don’t have to see this.”  he reassured the rest.

Yliv had rushed to them, she was looking at all of them, waiting for a sign.

Doronin started running towards the depths of the swamp, confused as everyone was attempting to strike him down. He couldn’t think anything else than making it out alive. Dean looked at his sister once more with doubt as he ran towards him, giving him the final blow as he cut his tendons before he passed out. Leonard followed him, as he lied in the ground, he plunged his sword in his back, blood started soaking the ground as it run towards the swamp waters. Even Nathan was caught off guard. The cool air that often surrounded his sword grew hellish hot, almost burning him as he gripped it as firmly as he could, making a final twist. He always thought the wind surrounding it was attuned to his emotions. Yet this time he wasn’t sure if that was his state of mind that was reflected in the temperature of the wind or someone elses.

“I told you, he was our problem.” Leonard continued.

“I..” “I am sorry.”

He looked at all of them and their wounds.

Yliv hadn’t partaken in this. She just stood there, her legs below her raven-feathered cloak were shaking. Her eyes had gone wide.

“I didn’t do anything to him”

She kept thinking

“I didn’t do anything for him”

The echoes were interchangeable.

Nathan headed towards the dismembered body of the red-haired woman. As he placed it over her neck and chanted a couple of words radiant energy started searing the wound.

“I wasn’t planning to kill any of you. Your courage is admired, and so is your sacrifice.”

Those were his final words before he flew above the tree line, leaving them to mourn.

The woman eventually gasped as she woke up and grabbed her sword heading towards the group standing on top of Doronin.

“You’re lucky the rest of you lot is alive after trying to take us on.”

Leonard looked at her dead serious

“Your friend cut your head off, nobody tried to take you on, now leave.”

She stared at them confused.

“I..”

“You can sense if we’re lying can’t you?”

She could. But it didn’t make sense.

“He also brought you back, if it helps.”

Her confusion only grew.

“Did he take the stone?”

“There is no fucking stone. The stone disappeared. You don’t believe us, go and take a look. Now leave us, we have a burial to take.”

“If what you say is true, then the entire Faerun will turn into a burial because of your incompetence.” She said as she walked towards the now withered tree.

They sat in silence for twenty minutes. Dean moved away from the group as he couldn’t stand the sight.

The woman eventually came back, only to ask for further details, yet nobody was willing to speak. She couldn’t blame them. She had failed, and it did not matter how, the consequences were what would matter. She sweated as she walked towards the forest frantically before they lost sight of her.

They all remained silent for the next few hours, they buried Doronin, Rynvia made the utmost preparation to pray for him in the afterlife before rushing towards where she had seen her brother last. She found him, wiping off his already clean sword.

“Why did you leave?” she said silently

“I need some time” Dean said as he avoided eye contact.

“Is this what you’ve been doing since I was gone?” he continued.

“Doronin betrayed us, it was a bad situation.”

“Is this how you justify it? Is this how you’ll treat our brother? He killed our parents.”

“That’s different.”

“No Rynvia, it’s the same. If not worse.”

“We spent a month with this guy, we spent our entire lives together with Damon.”

“A month that you could’ve all died. You fought zombies, pirates, demons, a dragon, Rynvia. A dragon.”

“Did you never think of killing our brother when he sent you in Ysgard?”

“Never. I was angry, I was mad, I died a thousand times. But it never occurred to me.  I don’t wanna know what would happen if I betrayed you”

“You really wouldn’t.” she said in a serious tone before her voice broke and tears started dripping on the ground.

“When I came back, I wanted to see my sister and family. I was sad to find out what had happened, but I at least was happy to have my sister back. But now I see that it’s not the person I had known for the better part of a century. And I’m.. I’m confused.” He never made eye contact, he just kept on wiping his blade.

“I…”

“Go back with the rest, Rynvia..”

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I’ll try.”

She started walking back as she shouted

“I love you.”

No response echoed.

In the meanwhile, Yliv and Leonard sat around the burial site in silence. Leonard look at her shaking hands but wasn’t sure if he should try to comfort her.

“You didn’t follow my lead.” He said bothered

“I’m not sure what you expected me to do” she responded after a long interval

“Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure about that either.”

She had never imagined killing an innocent, let alone a comrade.

“He had betrayed us. If anyone was going to die in this it was him.”

She didn’t respond. Neither did he continue to justify what had happened.

“He redeemed himself.”

She looked back at him confused

“Do you still trust me?”

“I don’t know”

“Help me unbury him, please.”

They both started excavating the grave once more, as Rynvia was coming back she cluelessly helped whatever they were trying to do, perhaps one of them wanted to give their regards, she was too disoriented.

Eventually, Doronins cold, muddy and moist from the swamp body was finally uncovered.

A burning sensation started radiating from Leonard as a couple of withered wings spurted out and his armor turned entirely dark, aside from the grey gem that remained embedded in his skull shaped helmet. From under his helm his eyes had turned bright red as he started chanting.

Both Rynvia and Yliv were daunted from the intimidating sight yet somewhat comforted by the unexpected warmth that emanated from his grim appearance. He continued to chant for the better part of the hour, as he did, he felt the divine essence slowly going dormant and his emanating radiance fading while Doronins colour returned and Leonards sword thrust that pierced through his heart started mending, physically at least.

#Dungeons and dragons #d&d story #d&d #homebrew #5e

[cockslutpadalecki]

Aesthetics of Hate

Summary: Hate is a strong word but not strong enough to describe how much Y/N abhors her asshole of a step-brother.

Characters: Dean x StepSister!Reader, Sam, John, OFC.

Words: 4831.

Warnings: step sibling relationship, some serious sexual tension, unprotected sex, female masturbation, smut.

A/N: What started out as a very small idea, this story literally took on a life of its own. Inspired a little by Cruel Intentions but without all some of the seduction and none of the warped ending. Forget everything about their pasts, this is entirely AU and I know Dean would be like 25/26 when this is set so lets just ignore the fact he still lives with his Daddy and enjoy. Massive thank you to @mystra-midnight and @crashdevlin who have been amazing supports while I’ve been bombarding them with draft after draft and keeping me motivated. Not beta’ed so all errors, spelling mistakes and general bullshit are entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Masterlists/taglists can be found in my bio.

You hate Dean Winchester as much as he hates you. It’s a win-win situation that only the person stood in the crossfire of your contempt for each other is going to lose and that person unfortunately was usually your mother.

She married for love three years ago but that love unfortunately brought with him his two sons Dick One and Dick Two, settling them into the house you had shared with her for most of your teenage years before the Winchesters barged in and set up camp. Dick Two— or Sam, wasn’t all bad - he was a nice guy with an ass like a peach but always ended up the mediator when you and Dick One would argue. Dick One, on the other hand, was a complete and utter— dick.

The moment Dean swaggered into your house, dumping his dirty belongings and wiping his muddy feet onto your mom’s pristine white carpet before clicking his fingers at you to clean it up, you despised the sight of him. He thought he was a archangel or something when in reality, he was just a lazy douche-bag who ate and drank too much and brought back slutty girls to nail in his room which you had the misfortune of hearing due to the paper thin walls between your adjoining rooms.

You did your best to keep your distance from him but no matter what, Dean would always appear when you least expected it and managed to get on every last one of your remaining nerves. Making dinner, he’s there. Clothes shopping, he’s there. Out with friends, he’s there. It’s like he purposely goes out of his way to fuck with you, to get a rise out of you so he looks better in the eyes of your parents when you complain.

“Why can’t you kids get along?” Your mom would sigh.

“Dean’s a great kid once you get to know him.” John would defend. But it was no use. You didn’t want to get to know him. You wanted to smother him with a fucking pillow.

-

The smell of fried food wakes you, the sweet aroma of bacon and eggs wafting under your nose as you hurry to dress. Mom must be making John breakfast.

You trudge down the stairs, still a little tender from the previous night before Dean rudely crashed the party and hit on all but one of your friends, rubbing at your eyes as you skulk into the kitchen, desperate for a cup of coffee.

Bile burns your throat as your eyes fall to Dean piling food onto his plate while Sam sits quietly at the opposite end of the island, a small cup of coffee in hand. Mom and John are nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Mom?” You ask, aiming the question at Sam.

“Don’t you remember? She and Dad went away for the weekend.” Dean pipes up before Sam even has a chance to open his mouth. He throws the dirty pan into the sink with a loud clatter before slumping onto a stool and starts shovelling food into his mouth.

Shit. Of course. You totally forgot. You’d been dreading this weekend for months knowing that you’d be alone with just them for a few days. You’d tried make excuses to be elsewhere for the duration like staying at a friend’s but they all had plans. Guess you’ll just have to lock yourself in your room for the weekend and binge Netflix while you whittle away at this hangover.

Reaching for the coffee, your gaze catches something red and... lacy draped over the counter. Your face drops in disgust, hooking your finger around as little material as possible, afraid of what you might catch.

“Really Dean? In the kitchen?”

“What you never licked hot fudge sauce off a dude before?” He scoffs, shoving three slices of bacon into his mouth. What a pig.

Scrunching up your nose, you fling the lace-whatever-the-hell-it-is at him. “Not that it’s any of your business but no, I haven’t. I’m not desperate like you to screw everyone in this damn town to satisfy whatever fucked up needs you got okay?”

He mumbles, chewing on a piece of sausage but you can’t quite make it out.

“Can you not talk with your mouth full? It’s disgusting.”

“Your friend last night wasn’t complaining when I was tongue deep in her pus—“

“Dean!” Sam interrupts. You almost forget he’s sat at the end of the island, nose deep in a book when he looks up giving you an almost sympathetic smile. How on earth has he not murdered this sonofabitch already?

You tsk loudly, finally pouring yourself a mug before hurrying past him and from the room, Dean’s voice carrying out into the hall alongside you as he shouts something probably scathing that you don’t have the stomach to respond to.

Your memories of the night before flood back to you as you ascend the stairs; the banshee screams of the girl inside Dean’s room rattling around inside your skull, a flood of nausea filling your belly. That was your friend in there making those noises— Dean extracting those whimpers and groans, his throaty staccato moans interspersed with hers while you laid mere feet from the origin of the cries, trying to sing over the sounds, hands clasped between your knees to stop yourself from coming with him.

-

It’s 2am when you wake up, the front door slamming followed by a fit of girlish giggles. Your TV blares loudly, casting a ghostly glow across the room lengthening and manipulating the shadows into macabre shapes. Rolling over to your nightstand you gulp down some lukewarm water to soothe your scratchy throat. Grabbing the remote, you switch the TV onto mute with the intention of falling back to sleep just as you hear Dean’s baritone voice echo through the wall to your room.

“God that fuckin’ mo—uth.” He praises whoever he’s talking to and you feel your cunt prickle hot at the sound. You pull the pillow over your head but it does nothing to stifle the noise of her mumbles in agreement as Dean continues to talk dirty, the next words out of his mouth making wetness clog your pyjama shorts.

“You gonna choke on it like a good little slut?”

You can’t stop yourself this time, your knees too weak to hold your hands between them. Fingers dancing up your thighs, you tremble hearing Dean’s constant praise at whatever she’s doing to him. Eyes flickering closed, you block out everything zoning in on Dean’s voice to carry you to your peak.

You’re so absorbed by the heat coiling in your belly, your release building and building—

“What the hell Y/N—“

“Dean! Shit! What the fuck?” You yell, jolting upright hurrying to cover your rising embarrassment. Your eyes fall over his broad frame filling the doorway, a bath sheet wrapped tight around his taut waist which barely contains his erection. Your stomach flips at the sight, your stare lingering a little too long on his groin and he has to cough to get your attention.

Clicking your tongue loudly, you sulk as if you’re entitled to be mad for the intrusion when in truth you’re frustrated you’ve been caught and he’s the one who caught you. “What do you want Dean?”

“Look I get it, we all have nightmares but you’re kinda upstaging the show. Y’know how hard I had to work to get this chick?” He notices the look of shame flushing your cheeks scarlet, “Shit, you weren’t screaming over a monster chasing you were ya?”

You were screaming, yes. Over a monster that wears your stepbrother’s face? Yes. God, this is humiliating. Dean’s lips curl into a filthy smirk as he tilts to lean against the door frame crossing his muscular arms over his chest. His skin glistens with a small sheen of sweat and you have to swallow hard to quash the rising heat swirling in your belly. Fuck sake. Why’d you wanna nail this egomaniac so bad?

“You were getting off on that weren’t you?” He nods in amusement towards the wall.

“Jesus, don’t flatter yourself.” You scoff nervously, squirming beneath your covers.

Dean pushes himself off the frame, arms falling to his sides and strides towards you, his cock hypnotising you as it bounces off his thigh. You don’t want him to come any closer, the thick scent of sex and whiskey practically dripping off him.

“My my, someone doesn’t hate me as much as they fuckin’ pretend to, do they?” He halts at the side of your bed hands propped on his pelvis, deliberately framing his bulge that still sits at full thickness. You catch a glimpse of the glorious V shaping his hips and your cunt reacts, the mattress beneath you completely water-logged.

“Fuck you Dean.” You manage to croak with a slither of authority.

He bares his teeth into a wide smile, “Oh, you just say the word princess.”

“Hadn’t you better get back to your friend?”

For a second you think he’s going to crawl into bed and give you the pounding you hate yourself for fantasising about but he doesn’t. He bends at the waist, curling his hands into fists and glides them across the covers until he’s leaning over you, face centimetres from yours. Gulping painfully, you try to wash down the hunger eating away at you as Dean’s smirk returns only this time it’s laced with a little more wickedness.

“Why the fuck would I wanna do that when there’s something far riper laying right in front of me?” The words wash over you like scalding water but delightfully licking at every nerve ending causing them to spark with voraciousness. 

“Dean—“

An unhealthy silence grows between you, neither of you knowing what to do except knowing what you want to do. The light from the TV bathes him in a warm glow, complimenting the flush of colour to his cheeks as you nibble on your lower lip, naively waiting for him to make a move. Your eyes flicker wildly between his mouth and his stare which you swear keeps flashing amber in the dim light. Dean edges a little closer; warmth pouring from his body, heating you from the inside out. A deep, hollow breath whooshes from your pursed lips; time slowing to a crawl before a horrid squeak calls out to him down the hall. 

“Dean?” 

His body snaps upright in shock, pulling the both of you out of your locked trance.

“Can’t leave a lady waiting all wet, now can we?” 

Sensing the tone in his voice, you know he’s mocking you. Mocking your predicament. He’s almost giddy at the fact that he knows exactly what you’re going to do after he swaggers back to his room and fucks her till she’s wailing his name. You know he was trying before but you can tell he’s definitely going to put on an Oscar-worthy performance especially now he knows he has an audience.  Dean Winchester always was a show off. Arrogant ass-hole.  

He gives you one last lingering look, the conceited grin smothered across his lips making you reel, before sauntering to the hallway chuckling to himself. “I’ll save ya a seat at breakfast honey.” He winks before slinking out the door.

It takes all of ten minutes and Dean calling your name through the wall as he comes for you to ride out your own hedonistic release, biting hard on your lip to stop yourself from shouting his back in return.

-

You sleep in till noon but it wasn’t without interruptions. Dean’s friend didn’t take too well to being called someone else in the throes of passion. You remember hearing her storm from the room the moment he finished, screeching expletives as he casually laughed it off. You remember the house rattling in its foundations as she slammed the door behind her followed by an eerie silence. And you remember drifting off, sinking into the comfort of your mattress in the midst of a post-orgasmic fog accompanied by the strangely soothing sounds of Dean’s snores. 

As you wake, your mind is glad you missed breakfast but your stomach isn’t. It rumbles almost on cue desperate for some nutrition and a hefty dose of coffee. The house is quiet as you quickly shower, the soft strokes of your fingertips while you wash makes your cunt pulsate, reminding you of last night. 

The heavenly smell of coffee lingers all the way down the stairs as you make your way to the kitchen, shouting out to Sam in the hopes he’s around somewhere. You need a distraction, something to keep you busy to take your mind off the burning still sitting uncomfortably between your thighs. Taking each step with trepidation, you constantly glance around in case Dean appears but all is silent. 

The kitchen is empty and the coffeemaker is full. Thank God. You pour yourself a cup, spooning two sugars into the dark liquid and give it a generous stir as you notice the tray of croissants sitting in the middle of the island. God bless you Sam Winchester. You grab one, hurriedly stuffing it into your mouth as a deep, gravelly cough behind you makes you jump. Turning on the balls of your feet, you come face to face with the one Winchester brother you really don’t want to see.

“Well good morning honey.” Dean drawls with a smile, the sweet smell of fresh pine and musk wafting under your nostrils as he takes a small step towards you. Your eyes drift over him; tiny water droplets cling to his hair and trickle down the curve of his neck before pooling on the collar of his white t-shirt. Finding yourself wanting to lick them away, you try to chew your croissant but your mouth is dry and now all it tastes like is wood chip. You start to chug it down with a swig of coffee but splutter as the mixture clogs in your throat. Dean almost looks concerned as you choke before managing to swallow it with a painful gulp. Placing the cup in the sink you cough again to clear the remnants of food from your throat.

“You finished dying yet?”

“Just about. And thanks for stepping into help Dean, really appreciate it.” You reply sarcastically.

“I mean it wasn’t exactly what I fantasised you choking on but never mind.” 

You’re thankful your mouth is devoid of food or drink otherwise you probably would have spat it out at his feet. You decide to ignore his comment even though every fibre in your body is screaming at you to ride this fuck until you’re finally satisfied but you’re far too stubborn.

“Where’s Sam?”

He sighs heavily, clearly pissed off you’re not in the mood to play his game. “Think he went to Jess’ to study.” 

Shit. Fuck. Why couldn’t he be here to save you from this forbidden fantasy? 

“Oh.” The dejection in your voice is thick as you turn on your heel, scuttling to the door but Dean’s too quick. He slides in front of you, arm stretched out against the island edge and blocks your path. 

“So— you just gonna pretend like last night never happened?” 

“Nothing happened last night.”

His arm drops to his side in exasperation as he scoots closer to you, the scowl on his face saying everything his voice doesn’t. Towering over you, his warm breath blows gently against your cheek. Slowly, you glance up at him unamused. 

“Tell me you didn’t come imagining me fucking you.”

“Dean, don’t.”

“Tell me and I’ll move. We can go back to hating each other and we’ll never mention this again.”

“Who said I stopped hating you?”

“Y/N.”

You lick your lips ready to lie to his face but the words stall in your throat. Closing your eyes in frustration, you let out a deep breath ready to try again before letting your eyelids flicker open with a surprised start. Dean stands even closer now, your bodies almost touching and you can feel the heat pouring off him like a radiator. 

You muster every drop of disdain for the man-child stood before you, twisting your mouth hard into a scowl. “If you think for a second Dean Winchester, that I would ever want to fuck you then you really are a narcissistic prick.”

He looks so sure that you’d crumble but your response takes him by surprise. “You’re such a fuckin’ brat.” He spits with venom.

“Takes one to know one doesn’t it?” You step sideways, edging to get past him but he blocks your route out. “Do you mind?”

Dean slides out of your way hands up as if to surrender, his jaw clenched tight as you begin to slink past him, a painful warmth lacing your cunt. Once out of Dean’s sight, you throw your back to the hallway wall to catch the breath you’ve been holding in, trying to mobilise the energy to drag your wanton body back up the stairs.

-

The next couple of weeks pass without incident, the both of you doing everything in your power to avoid the other. Mom and John returned from their trip, expecting the five of you to spend time together as a family but you had other ideas. You purposely worked overtime to dodge dinner and Dean would be out of the house before the crack of dawn to make sure he wasn’t around for breakfast.

But you couldn’t escape him at night.

Not when he went out of his way to bring home the sluttiest of girls, the ones who would do things that made you blush beneath the covers while you silently got yourself to orgasm, knowing that every groan, command and plead for him to fuck them harder was all for your benefit. You dreaded sleep, even opting to take the couch for the night one time when Dean brought home the most vocal of all his sluts. Her screams alone shook the house without even bringing in the incessant noise of the headboard slamming against the wall into the equation. After her, John banned all “late night visitors” from the house much to Dean’s dismay. You, on the other hand, were giddy with glee.

It’s late when you arrive home from work, Dean’s Impala taunting you from the drive, the flash of silver of the bumper the last thing you see before the front door clicks closed. You hoped with the length of overtime you agreed to tonight, still anxious to keep your distance, that he’d be out and you could have some peace.

No such luck.

You drop your keys and handbag onto the dresser, desperate to relax in a long, hot bubble bath to melt away the day before sneaking to the stairs until you hear the sound of John bellowing to you.

“Y/N, could you come in here a minute please?” Your shoulders drop defeated, dragging your feet as you turn on your heel and head in the direction of his voice. You enter the dining room wearily, John and your Mom sit one side of the table and Dean the other.

“Um, what’s going on?” You say with a hint of scepticism.

“Sit,” John replies, watching as you cautiously slide into the seat next to Dean, the scent of motor oil, leather and his woody aftershave clouding your senses. Heat instantly coils tight in your belly, your clit pulsing at the memory of last night; hearing him croak your name as he pleasured himself while you came painfully silent, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much you want him despite your stubbornness. The reminder of your climax makes your body itch and you debate moving seats so you’re not suffocating under his spell but you’re committed now. “Me and your mom have had enough of whatever the hell is going on between the two of you. So you’re gonna sort it out right now.”

“There’s nothing to sort. I hate his guts, simple as that.”

“Likewise princess.” Dean retorts as his hand reaches out underneath the table and slides it teasingly across your thigh. Breath collapsing in your throat, a wave of blinding heat overwhelms you causing your pussy to flood monumentally. You glance sideways at him with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw as he reciprocates your look with a smug smile.

“Stop it both of you! Y/N, whether you like it or not, Dean’s your brother now, show him some respect.” Your mom cries, her face shrouded in despair. At the last word, you feel Dean’s hand squeeze your leg almost tauntingly. He’s enjoying this.

“He is not my fucking brother.”

“Y/N—“ John butts in.

“As for respect?” The word tastes like poison on your tongue. You can’t believe they’re asking you to respect this jerk. “The minute he stops acting like an self-centred asshole and bringing disease-ridden whores back to my house, then I might consider it.”

“Your house?” Dean says in disbelief, snatching his hand back off your thigh. Snapping your head to face him, you’re met with a look of disgust.

“I was here first so yes, my house. You’re just a cockroach Dean, feeding off of everyone else, the sooner you’re squashed the better.” 

“The sooner you remove the stick from your uptight ass the better you spoilt little cunt.”

“Dean!” John shouts angrily.

You’re gone from the room in a flash, bolting up the stairs as angry tears burn your cheeks. You can hear your mom calling your name and John’s booming voice yelling at Dean as you fling yourself onto your bed and cry, frustration simmering in your veins. 

-

A soft tapping against your open door has you choking down one last sob before you slowly sit up. Wiping at your damp cheeks with the back of your hand, you turn to face the owner of the knock. 

Dean. He’s got some fucking nerve.

“I suggest you get the fuck out of my room before I haul this lamp at you.” Contempt drips from your voice, watching as he slowly strides towards you.

“I come in peace.” He holds his hands up passively. 

You shimmy off the bed and charge over to him, fists balled up at your sides. “I don’t give a shit.”

“Look, I’m just here to get your apology and then I’ll be gone.”

The frustration inside you reaches boiling point and you explode in his face, your screams piercing your throat. “My apology? My apology?! Fuck you!” 

You raise your hand, palm connecting with his face harshly; the sharp rip of skin shredding skin echoing in your ears. Lifting your hand once more, you attempt to hit him again but this time Dean is prepared and grabs your wrist in mid-air. In one fluid motion he spins you round, forcing you against the open door and pushes you backwards until it slams closed. Pinned between the door and Dean, you’re left with no chance of escape. 

“Feel better for that do ya?” He hisses, the cool of his breath tickling your cheek.

“Not in the fucking slightest.”

Dropping your wrist, he leans in suddenly crashing his lips violently against yours sending your head smacking into the door behind you. You heave at the pain before it melts into a dull ache, the sensation of Dean’s mouth on yours diverting your attention elsewhere. You snake your arms around his neck pulling him tight into you as Dean’s hand finds its way to your waist, thumbing your jeans open and thrusts a hand down between your thighs. Despite the fury burning inside your belly, you’re already dripping wet; the feeling of his fingertips gliding through your folds thaws your anger into something far more salacious. Palm up, he roughly pushes two fingers inside you invoking a shrill shriek from the depths of your diaphragm. 

“Feels better when I’m doing it for real doesn’t it?” He breathes against your lips.

“Uh-huh.” You lament pathetically in response, your teeth clamping around Dean’s bottom lip causing him to mimic you, the deep vibrations of his moans sending ripples of heat right down to your pussy. Your hands drop to his hips, the pads of your fingers tracing the perfect V lines you haven’t been able to get out of your head; the same ones you want to mark and blemish with your teeth. With tentative stokes you begin to massage his thickening cock against the outside of his pants, Dean’s rasps gravelly in your ear as he tells you how good it feels.

You disintegrate against Dean’s skilful fingers, each retraction making you sigh at the emptiness before he propels them back inside you, curling them to massage your g-spot. Your peak is soon in sight, flames of heat licking at your pussy as Dean’s thumb brushes over your clit while his fingers rhythmically draw out your high. You can feel it; right on the cusp, a wave about to break—

Dean’s fingers still abruptly, slipping his hand away entirely as you whine in despair, the first ripples of your orgasm ebbing to a soreness that leaves your cunt feeling blisteringly hot.

Turning you round he pins you back against the door, his hands peeling you out of your pants, sliding them down your legs. Dean edges your knees apart, allowing him full access to your now free and naked pussy, his fingers stroking through your wetness prepping you for what’s to come.

“Still hate me?” He hums.

“Can’t stand the sight of yo— ou.” Your voice breaks as Dean drills his fingers back inside you, scissoring you open. Like the strike of a match, the raging in your belly re-ignites in a matter of milliseconds.

As soon as it flickers to life Dean snatches it away, his fingers leaving a damp trail in their wake as you hear him hastily relieve himself of his pants and the soft thud of them pooling to the floor has your heart leaping into your chest knowing where this is going to lead. You know you should stop this, Dean is your “brother”, but the yearning to have him bury himself inside your cunt is beyond vehement.

Pressure replaces the brief moment of cool air licking at your sticky thighs, the tip of Dean’s cock tight against your entrance. He sinks slowly into your warmth opening you up like a flower coming into bloom, your body sagging against his as he fills you up to the hilt and it’s nothing short of exquisite.

He starts to rock his hips, the thickness of his erection pulling at your walls and you let out a scream, Dean’s hand hurrying to stifle it beneath his palm. Leaning in his lips graze your neck, trailing a damp path of kisses up to your ear.

“As much as I love hearing you fuckin’ scream you gotta keep quiet… unless you want Mom and Dad to catch you getting fucked like a dirty little slut.” He whispers heavily.

Grabbing roughly at your waist, Dean pummels you into the door, your palms splayed wide against the wood arching your spine to give him a deeper angle and push back onto his shaft. Every drag stuffs you to the brim, familiar waves of torrid heat spreading through your pelvis right down to the tips of your toes.

His unyielding thrusts have you crying through his fingers, coming so hard you think you might black out. You can practically feel the smirk no doubt plastered across his face as you surrender to him, unravelling like wool on the end of his perfect fucking dick.

“Yeah? You like that? You like me fuckin’ you like you deserve, you spoilt bitch?”

“Mm-hhhmmmm.”

You always thought the sound of Dean coming was one of the hottest things you’d ever heard but it’s nothing compared to the deep, husky moans he makes in your ear as he impales you on his cock, pinching tight at the bountiful curves of your ass almost milking himself inside you. Breathlessly he pants your name against your shoulder, burying his teeth into your skin to stop himself from calling out as he shoots hot, thick ropes of cum deep into your womb. Listening to Dean growl through his high, remembering all those nights you came from his moans alone, forces another from you, pure white heat scorching through your cunt as your vision blurs momentarily.

By the time he pulls out, his sticky seed dribbling down your thighs, you’re sore as hell but your entire body tingles hot with a fervid complacency. You turn slowly slumping against the door, trying to catch your breath and Dean’s already pulling up his pants, the filthiest of smirks painted across his lips as he meets your gaze.

“How about now?”

“Fucking despise you.”

Dean treads a small step towards you, his throaty and amused laugh travelling straight to your core, “Feeling’s mutual sis.”

***

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[boobtubedude]

The Tournament Of The Archomentals: Part 1

As background, which I may spell out later: I started DM’ing a game of Dungeons and Dragons last summer. It was my first time ever playing the game, AND I was running it. I got a few friends who were interested and we all kind of learned as we went. 

We started playing the pre-made intro adventure “Lost Mine Of Phandelver” in June, and segued into the “Curse of Strahd” about two months after that. I led a five-month campaign in which the vampiric Big Bad ended up sneezing to death, because Dungeons and Dragons is a weird game sometimes. This is the third arc, which narratively connects the adventures of four players and everyone they’ve met along the way. It’s my first attempt at a fully original campaign, although it borrows themes and plot points from some familiar pop culture pieces, as well as using some canonical D&D lore. 

At this stage, everyone is a Level 10 character. These are the notes I normally type out to the players, as they literally cannot remember things between biweekly sessions, but thought it might be fun to start posting them for all to read. We had two new players decided to join the game this time around, which is why a tournament celebrating eight gods has six participants. I bet you’d ask because the players asked and were kinda asses about it.

The story picked up right at the end of the last session, with the gnome Garrick hurrying over to your campsite. He noted that he was excited but a little annoyed you guys waited so long to come back. Turns out what felt like a few weeks for you was 10 years in Neverwinter. During that time, your efforts at Wave Echo Cave have essentially turned Neverwinter into a rich, bustling ecosystem. And since then, you have become folk heroes that helped turn this place from Brookyln in the 1980s to Brooklyn now. (Lots of skinny jeans in Neverwinter now.)

Garrick had been holding your place in The Tournament of the Archomentals, which celebrates the 1,000-year anniversary of the defeat of the god Asmodeus. Asmodeus arose thanks to the assassination of Mystra, a goddess in charge of maintaining The Weave. The Weave is like the Force, only for magic, and killing her set off a chain reaction in which reality itself was warped and changed. Asmodeus was a decently powerful wizard before Mystra’s death, but The Spellplague (also known as the “Blue Breath Of Change”) then ensued after Mystra’s assassination turned him into a god-like figure. He turned the lands into hell itself with his empowered Ruby Rod, and was only defeated when the 8 archomentals (beings of supreme power in the earth, air, water, and fire planes of the multiverse) combined for the first time ever to defeat him.

The tournament involves four contests, after each week one of the five remaining teams is eliminated. Each contest celebrates of plane of elemental existence. Garrick’s an organizer, but not an architect, of the arenas in which these contests take place. He’s sort of a coach, but more of a fanboy at heart. (He may or may not have playing cards of the four heroes of Wave Echo Cave.) However, it won’t just be you in the contest: Since the challenges are designed for parties of six, Garrick has two more people that he’s gotten to fight along side you in order to balance out your team’s strengths and weaknesses. In no way did anyone think this was all major foreshadowing for the return of Asmodeus at the end of the tournament, which pleased the DM as he did not have to massively rewrite the narrative he had been planning for a month and a half.

As he takes you into the cathedral in which the tournament’s festivities are arranged, you see Mystra’s symbol above the cathedral door: it’s a red mist rising to the heavens, with seven stars surrounding it. The seven stars represent the seven schools of magic in this universe. 

Inside, you see that Gundren Rockseeker (who gathered you all together on your adventure to find the Lost Mine of Phandelver) is one of the architects, along with three others: 

 Artin Battlehammer (Dwarf): A stout, keenly intelligent creature with an eye towards designing strongholds than looting them with treaure

Theren Amastacia (Elf): Think Cate Blanchett in LOTR, but somehow hotter

Kallista Orianna (Tiefling): about 6’, purple skin, horns that extend out from her eyebrows about 15’’ in a 45 degree angle. A large tail slinks back and forth behind her. She seems to regard you with distrust, whereas the others barely acknowledge your existence

From there, after exchanging pleasantries with Gundren, you met your two other teammates: a half-orc Fighter named Kieran Lonesword and a human Bard named Danfielding. You also meet a halfing named Vivienne, a gruff fashion designer/wizard who allows you all to create your own hero within the world of the Tournament. (In real-world parlance: This is a chance to re-spec your character.) Arzgarth Riffrocker the Paladin stayed the same. Peter Dinklage the Cleric switched his Domain to “Tempest” in order to indulge his inner Thor. Chad The Conqueror switched from Paladin to Warlock, which was badass on all levels. Demora the Rogue did not participate in this, as in real life she was very sick, so everyone established the canonical fiction that she had consumed room-temperature shrimp as her first meal in Neverwinter and was horrifically nauseous. This was not badaass on any level.

Vivienne also gave everyone a pin to help brand this team: a silver pin with the face of the monkey the group adopted in Barovia, Piccolo. Chad was greatly delighted by this development, as he loved Piccolo more than anything in the world. Garrick led you all the antechamber, a long hallway with paintings of the Archomentals on each side. He explained that this first exhibition honored the Earth Archomentals, Ogrémoch (generally eeevvvviiiiil) and Sunnis (generally pleeeeesssaaant). He told you that the fight was based on “Rock, Paper, Scissors,” and to avoid the dome protecting you from the audience that would be watching. Also, he noted that there was audience participation: Above the arena would be a wheel that would spin after everyone had completed a round of combat, in which something fun or terrible might happen.

You walk up to the final painting of the antechamber, and it’s of none other than Asmodeus himself. He’s painted as a twenty-foot figure crushing the hordes of fighters that had assembled to defeat him. In his hands is the Ruby Rod to which Garrick alluded earlier. This painting lifted up to reveal a circular platform inside, and a bright light illuminating it from above. Peter Dinklage kissed the three middle fingers of his left hand and held them up, because he’s a dick.

You all get on the platform, and ride it up. You see you’re in a dome that’s about 30 yards in diameter. On the periphery, two smaller but similar looking trees reside. In the center of it is a huge, beautiful tree. Facing it at forty-five degrees on each side are two stone statues, reminiscent of the Terracotta Army. It’s a beautiful, lush landscape, and your eyes go from that to realizing you’re surrounded on all sides by spectators. You can hear them, but the sounds are muffled due to the invisible dome. Due north in the crowd is a smallish section for the Tournament Architects, and the Wheel stands above them. The options on the wheel read:

Hale and Hearty

SkullCracker

Flight of Fancy

Ring Around The Posey

Amor-All

Broken Mirror

Well of Haste

Electric Slide

The fight begins when the fighters try to use magic to assess the area, which wakes up both the central tree and the stone golems. The tree does a lot of damage when it hurls a boulder at the entire party, forcing Danfielding to heal everyone up quickly. Just when it looks like the initial flurry was over, a dozen ropes descended from the top of the dome, and twelve men looking like Santa’s Elves gone to seed landed with a thud on the ground, wielding large sickles. “We’re the Scissors Gang, here to kick your ass!” the leader declared. Much head shaking was done by all at the DM’s voice for these creatures, but they said nothing, for lo, the DM had bought the pizza that night. Rock (golems), Paper (tree), and Scissors (Bastard Keebler Elves) had finally all assembled.

Combat continued for a few rounds. After the first, the audience wheel landed on Ring Around The Posey, which had the effect of switching all the elements to which these creatures were either vulnerable or immune. That wasn’t too obvious to the heroes, who mostly marveled at the fact that Kieran could seemingly roll nothing but twenties on her first night. The initial batch of Scissors Elves were eliminated fairly handily, as Peter and Danfielding teamed up to essentially roll the elves into the electrified dome like bowling pins, but the group couldn’t make their way to the tree (which had raised up the other two to help attack) nor make much headway with the golems.

Round two started with Flight Of Fancy, which made the entire arena zero-gravity. A new group of Scissor gangmembers floated down like a group of skydivers, which the DM erroneously called “plane jumpers,” because the DM had had a fucking week, so back off. Once again, Peter and Danfield feasted on these creatures, singeing them all with fire. Arzgarth teleported on top of a golem, and struck him down towards the earth. Kieran then curbstomped this sucker to death, and wove the newly-formed floating pebbles into a cape, because apparently half-Orcs have proficiency in Etsy. The DM granted Kieran a point of inspiration, because holy crap, you guys. The audience, on the other hand, threw up in their mouth a little at the violent (albeit creative) display before them.

Meanwhile, Chad decided to use his Warlock abilities to take over the mind of the tree, which it then ordered to hit itself with the boulder over and over again. Not only did the central tree take damage because of this, but so did the other trees. Everyone enjoyed telling the tree to stop hitting itself.

With the combatants earthbound for the next round, the wheel landed on Electric Slide, at which point lighting emerged from the Piccolo pins and singed every player. No one enjoyed that, not even Chad.

Finally, Chad realized he had a Warlock spell that could essentially incinerate plant life, which probably would have helped them out in the first round of combat. Game, set, match, ex-masochistic sentient tree. Garrick ran into the arena, pleased by the results. He noted that they came in second overall in terms of quickest victory, as another team had used that plant spell off the bat, which made things much easier.

Just then, the sky went dark, the wheel started spinning of its own accord, and glowed red from its central point. Just as soon as it started, everything went back to normal. The architects retreated hastily, and a nervous Garrick told the group to rest up for the next event in two weeks’ time.

#Dungeons and Dragons