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stllmnstr · 3 months

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easy mode — a lee heeseung drabble

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: brother’s best friend au

word count: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, (brief, non descriptive) vomit mention, veeeeery suggestive (but no explicit content/smut), sorry feminism I let heeseung win this round

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Lee Heeseung likes to do things the easy way.

It’s not that he’s lazy, just... efficient. A fan of the path of least resistance. He knows how to pick his battles and does so sparingly.

Heeseung minds his own business, keeps his eyes on the path in front of him and rarely lets them stray. And he definitely, definitely never pokes his nose into other people’s problems.

It’s a philosophy that keeps his head on straight, that allows his friendships to remain low-maintenance and sans drama. It’s what’s kept Jay at his side for the last fifteen years, even through the trials and tribulations of elementary school playground altercations, puberty-fueled fights in the middle school locker room, and most recently, the frustrating misalignment of their post-graduation work schedules.

Four years ago, Heeseung thought a bachelor’s degree would be his ticket to success, not a soul-sucking nine-to-five that leaves him itching for a drink or three most Friday nights. Luckily for him, Jay’s in the same boat.

But tonight, sitting next to his best friend on his favorite slightly wobbly bar stool, Heeseung almost misses the monotony of their usual Friday evening happy hours.

He’s nursing his third beer, which would usually go down like cold water, even though time and tipsiness have turned it lukewarm. Tonight, though, Heeseung’s eyes keep wandering towards the same corner table just over Jay’s shoulder.

And every time they do, the muscle in his jaw strains a little further. The beer on his tongue tastes a little more bitter.

Heeseung hates making things complicated. He doesn’t get involved. He doesn’t. But–

“Are you gonna do something about that?”

On the adjacent bar stool, Jay glances at Heeseung. “About what?”

Heeseung just keeps his eyes trained on that table, that spot over Jay’s shoulder.

Picking up on the hint even through the pleasant haze in his mind, Jay turns his gaze to follow Heeseung’s nonverbal cue. It takes him only a matter of seconds to locate what has his best friend in such a mood. Or rather, who. Although Jay isn’t quite sure why.

He’s digging for clarification when he looks back at his friend. “What do you mean? Did she do something weird?” It wouldn’t be exactly unlike his younger sister to do something slightly embarrassing in public.

Heeseung’s jaw just tightens further, betraying his annoyance. Finally, he puts words to his irritation, saves Jay from his suspense. “You’re gonna let that idiot put his hands all over your little sister in the middle of the bar?”

Jay frowns, turns over his shoulder once again to make sure he isn’t seeing things. He’s not. From this angle, at least, Sunghoon’s hands are at a perfectly respectable distance from you. Not that Jay could do much about it either way.

He tells Heeseung as much. “What am I supposed to do? Drag her out by her ear and force her to join a convent? Ship her off to a girls only boarding school?” Jay laughs humorlessly. He’s not exactly thrilled that you and your friends chose to patronize the same bar as him and Heeseung tonight, but he doesn’t want to linger on it either. In fact, he doesn’t want to do anything but forget his woes this evening, drown his sorrows in overpriced pints of whatever’s on tap. He’s perfectly happy with his back turned towards you. Out of sigh, out of mind and all that. “She’s twenty-two.”

And that wasn’t what Heeseung was suggesting exactly, but now that Jay mentions it…

“You’re okay with Park trying to play tonsil tennis with her then?”

“Dude,” Jay winces, setting his beer down on the bar, stomach suddenly queasy. “Gross. That’s still my little sister.”

Which is exactly the card Heeseung is hoping he’ll play. But all Jay does is sigh. If Heeseung didn’t know better, he’d think the exasperation was directed at him instead of the loser he’s pretty sure is currently trying to make himself Jay’s future brother-in-law.

Jay checks over his shoulder one final time for good measure. It confirms whatever he’s looking for. Mostly the fact that Park Sunghoon’s lips are too busy cracking mediocre jokes to be making sloppy passes at his sister in public.

Hoping to put it to rest once and for all, at least for tonight, he turns back to Heeseung. “Besides, it’s Sunghoon,” Jay reasons. He finds it in himself to reach for his beer again. “She’s known him since preschool. He’s practically like a second brother to her.” Jay takes a sip, misreading the rise in Heeseung’s agitation as familial affection. Trying to soothe it over, he concedes with a nod, “Or third, I guess. I’ll let you be her second.”

Like always, Heeseung lets it go. Goes with the flow, at least on the outside.

But even if he weren’t so committed to never rocking the boat, this is hardly the time or place to correct Jay’s assumptions that his feelings towards you are anything but brotherly. That, he decides, will have to be a revelation for another time. Preferably in a situation where Heeseung is well out of arm’s reach and Jay is in restraints of some sort.

Those, after all, are the only circumstances in which he could ever disclose just how decidedly not brotherly his feelings towards you are.

In fact, they’re a lot more aligned with that stupid game you used to make him play as kids. The one where you put on the white dress you’d gotten from your cousin as a hand-me-down, an assortment of grape juice, finger paint, and pasta sauce stains scattered along the hemline. The one where you’d gather a bunch of dandelions from your overgrown backyard and call them a beautiful bouquet. The one where you’d live out all your grandest six-year-old dreams of walking down the aisle towards a handsome prince with the latest Kidz Bop rendition of whatever love song was most popular on the radio setting the mood in the back.

The one where you’d drag Heeseung away from the player number two console, much to Jay’s unending annoyance, and force him to play the part of your groom. Even at six, you were a force to be reckoned with. An argument-winning fiend that even your older brother could rarely best in a fight.

Heeseung played along, more than anything, because he was scared to face your wrath if he declined. But he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t feel a little funny in his chest every time he watched you walk down a makeshift aisle made with your mother’s missing tablecloth.

And Heeseung doesn’t give a shit how long you’ve known Sunghoon. After all, what does Sunghoon know about your childhood dream to get married in a garden full of roses? Judging from the way it looks like he keeps trying to get you to try his drink, he doesn't even know you can’t stand the taste of Coke mixed with liquor.

But Heeseung knows. He was there the night you developed the aversion. The night you decided bottom shelf tequila and the soda you snuck from your parent’s fridge were your best friends for the evening after junior prom. The night he held your hair as it came back up a few hours later.

And he was there for the rest of it, too. All the little moments, the big moments, and everything in between that spun the tapestry of your formative years. The day you finally got your braces off and didn’t stop smiling for three weeks straight. The time you sprained your ankle trying to hide Jay’s favorite pair of sneakers in the alarmingly tall tree in your backyard. The night you cried for four hours straight when you found out Jake Sim from biology was a big, fat, liar that was indeed texting other girls for homework answers.

There may have been moments, tangled up in that swirling mix of memories, when Heeseung felt nothing but a brotherly sort of affection for you. A desire to protect you from the world and a distinct sort of pride when he inevitably failed and you rose to the challenge anyway.

But Heeseung also remembers what it felt like to stand across from you as you recited your six-year-old brain’s attempt at recreating marriage vows, and he thinks he never really stood a chance.

Glancing over Jay’s shoulder again, Heeseung watches as you lean a little further into Sunghoon, straining to hear him over the cacophony in the bar. And the anger he feels in his gut is not brotherly in the slightest. Nor is the red, hot, scalding jealousy that burns his throat every time he forces himself to swallow it down.

Searching for a distraction, he busies himself with his beer once again, lets Jay’s unwanted evaluations fall to the wayside for the time being. Immersed in the dregs of his own despair, he almost misses it. The flash of movement as you slide out from your seat next to Sunghoon.

Heeseung mumbles some excuse about needing to go to the bathroom that Jay only partially hears before he’s stepping off of his bar stool, beer forgotten on the counter behind him.

Your footsteps are easy to follow as he traces the predictable path you forge to the opposite corner of the bar. Heeseung’s bathroom excuse was a good one, he’s pleased to discover, once he realizes that’s precisely where he’ll be meeting you.

The line is long, but it moves quickly. Only a handful of minutes have passed when you emerge again. This time, Heeseung doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give you the chance to walk back and make him watch you from a distance for the rest of the evening.

Instead, he wraps the skin of your wrist in long, precise fingers, drags you to the adjacent hallway where it’s empty, quiet. Secluded. Away from any wandering eyes or unwanted ears.

Any protests of yours are overtaken by surprise, and by the time you finally find them again, they’re replaced by questions.

Heeseung may be a captain of a steady ship, a firm believer in the merits of smooth sailing, but he’s never been able to resist the urge of liminal spaces like these. Moments with enough plausible deniability that Jay won’t have a reason to give him a bloody nose or threaten his life if he so much as looks at his little sister again. Exchanges that he hopes will linger with you long after the two of you have parted ways.

Desire for ambiguity aside, the position he puts you in is compromising no matter how you spin it. Your back against the wall, and Heeseung leans over you, cages you in like he’s after something other than your answers, something more. But the gap between your bodies is deliberate, a way for him to backtrack if the situation calls for it, an out if he needs it.

Your wrist is still in his grip, light but demanding, when he finally says, “Park Sunghoon? Really?”

“What?” You hope you can blame the obvious breathlessness in your voice on shock. “What are you–?”

Heeseung won’t leave you wondering for long. “You think he can handle you?” With the way you’re wrapped up in Heeseung’s hold, the challenge, the comparison is apparent.

Your shock morphs. Hardens. “Handle me? Am I a wild animal? I don’t need to be han–”

And, oh, this is Heeseung’s favorite kind of tightrope. His very best balancing act. He loves it, thrives on it, revels in it. This exchange of heated words that never go anyway but to your head. He hopes you’re seeing fucking stars.

Heeseung leans an inch closer. He’s breaching dangerous territory. He’ll blame it on the alcohol if he has to. Glancing at your eyes, holding your gaze, he doesn’t think he will.

“Who said anything about you needing it?” He’s so close you feel his breath on your cheekbone, ghosting across your temple. “I’m talking about what you want.”

Something unreadable flickers through your gaze before you’re masking it with contempt. As if Heeseung is nothing but a pest, a fly to swat at until it stops buzzing. “Awful presumptuous, don’t you think?”

Heeseung only grins. “I don’t know.” He leans in closer. “There are a few ways we could find out, though.”

If your breath stutters, you’ll disguise it as a scoff. “Pray tell.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Heeseung inclines his head in a mockery of an apology. For a moment, he lets his eyes do what they want. You feel the heat they track in their path from your nose to your chin back up to your molten gaze. “I’d rather show you, and I don’t think I can do any of the things I want in public.”

You hate the way he does this. The way he never says what he means. The way he skirts around things with such heavy footsteps but still leaves you feeling foolish for drawing obvious conclusions. The way your heartbeat stutters regardless. But tonight, you’ll hold firm. If he wants anything from you, he’ll have to spell it out. “What are you saying?”

Heeseung is as evasive as always. “I’m saying that Sunghoon’s too nice for you.” There’s a hard edge in his eyes when he adds, “You’ll eat him alive and still be begging for more.”

Fine. If he wants to play games, then you’ll roll the dice too. Make scathing comments and heated taunts with whatever numbers you land on. This time, it’s you that leans in. “Should I make sure to find you, then? When I’m all done with him?”

You can’t tell if he’s furious or the most delighted you’ve ever seen him. “Careful,” Heeseung breathes. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing at.”

“I’m not playing at anything.” It’s a blatant lie, but you’ve become well acquainted with denial, too. Picked up a few tricks from the ringleader himself. “You’re the one that dragged me here and started demanding that I ditch my friend.”

Heeseung smiles as if you serve no purpose but to amuse him. “You let all your friends look at you like that?”

“Only the ones I really like.”

But now you’re under his skin. “Careful,” he repeats, even lower this time. “I’m not as nice as him.”

You won’t heed any warnings, and especially not ones given from him. He’s all talk. All bark and no bite. You almost wish he would bare teeth, just once. “What are you gonna do?” Unblinking, you hold his gaze. “Handle me?”

A blurred line dissolves completely. Heeseung’s resolve slips, just a fraction. “Is that an invitation?”

“A challenge,” you correct, sliding out of his grasp, maneuvering away from his hold. This time, he has no choice but to turn as you begin to back away, to let his eyes follow your lead.

After his misstep, the results of this game are under your sole control. You have choices, ones that leave him in the dust and ones that put a trophy in his wandering hands. In the end, you discard it all. You have only one final demand for him. It’s a whisper that’s barely audible, “Rise to it.”

Heeseung doesn’t need to hear it twice.

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note: I was having serious heeseung brother's best friend brainrot on my friday evening and decided to make it everyone's problem. (you're welcome/I'm sorry). and thanks for reading! thoughts, comments, tags, reblogs, and screaming are appreciated as always <3

#enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung x you #heeseung x you #heeseung x reader #heeseung fic #heeseung fanfic #heeseung drabble

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wilsons-journey · 2 days

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Nektarius developed some serious trust issues during Tribulation Mode of SAB. Not even the flowers are nice to you in this mode. THEY F**KING EXPLODE IN YOUR FACE!

So what does a good Friend like Rolan do? Right. Having some fun.

Nekt is fine. She had fun. Sure she cried a little and screamed during Trib. Mode,... but she is fine. At least she managed to beat both worlds. And in the end both laughed. But it will take some time until Nekt is able to trust Flowers in SAB again. (And Rocks. And Barrels,... just everything.)

Rolan belongs to @brightwingedbat

#gw2 #guildwars2 #guild wars 2 #charr #myArt #nektarius #rolan #despite that they really having a blast jumping through SAB #thanks to Rolan this turned into my favorite festival #man I will miss it so much when its gone for a year

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treethymes · 4 months

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In my landmark analysis of The Wind Rises, I interpreted the film in terms of Miyazaki working through his feelings on his life’s work—perhaps regret and shame thinking of all the sacrifices from others it took to bring his work to fruition, to pursue his desires and ideals; his ideas on what “beauty” is and perhaps how glad he is that it exists/is created in spite of all the suffering that may be attached to it. I did not talk about the relatively more straightforward ways of reading the film, which is of course about Japan during World War II: Miyazaki reflecting on the factors that drive history, what it means to live through, to be embedded in—and to look back on—so much violence; Miyazaki reckoning with his own family’s role in the imperialist war effort as well as his lifelong infatuation with the aesthetics of military machinery. Considering these modes of interpretation together yields a portrait of a man and his art—Where does it come from? What does it value? Where does it want to go? As such, The Wind Rises is arguably a very rich and fitting swan song. And yet, with its grounded, adult perspective on the war, the film also sticks out like a sore thumb in Miyazaki’s oeuvre and maybe always sat uncomfortably as a conclusion to it.

For those who feel that way, The Boy and the Heron should come as a welcome addition to Miyazaki’s filmography. It is, after all, a return to fantasy adventure with a child protagonist—something that feels, at least more so than a quasi-biopic of an aircraft engineer does, like quintessential Miyazaki. But crucially for our purposes, the film is not just a return to a familiar form (often quite literally a sum of everything that came before it), it is an extension of and second half to The Wind Rises. Through the lens of my interpretation of The Wind Rises, The Boy and the Heron is like an inversion of The Wind Rises in that it foregrounds the concerns with artistry and legacy while keeping the war in the background and frame of the narrative.

Two scenes in The Boy and the Heron in particular reminded me of The Wind Rises. First is the scene of the dying pelican, which visually recalls the scene of the ill man in Princess Mononoke but in terms of the content of the dialogue reminds me more of the scene in The Wind Rises of the children turning down Jiro’s offer of castella cake. It is a reflection on poverty, pride, and survival. In the context of these films, we are led to consider specifically the condition of the Japanese people, the things they were driven to do, and are left to draw our own conclusions with regard to the nuances.

The other scene, of course, is the brief moment of Mahito looking at the windshields his father brings to the house and remarking on how beautiful they are. This scene embeds in The Boy and the Heron Miyazaki’s preoccupation with the aesthetic allure of aircraft originally designed for warfare, a contradiction between beauty and violence that is mirrored in the dream world that Mahito ultimately decides to reject.

In the dream world in The Boy and the Heron, there are so many echoes of past Miyazaki and Ghibli films it is deafening. Seemingly contrary to Jiro’s solemn resignation to the world of pyramids, Mahito rejects the dream world he’s inherited and ventures to build something new in the real world. But I’m not sure they are so far removed from each other. They are complimentary views of the same object (Miyazaki’s legacy), one from his own perspective and one from the perspective he hopes for future generations to take—one of not overly attaching themselves to some old fool’s dreams. In The Wind Rises, perhaps Miyazaki tries to celebrate his life’s work without celebrating it. In The Boy and the Heron, he gives us the greatest hits slideshow we wanted and then some—a celebration of the joys and tribulations of the creative act he so compulsively pursued—but not without gesturing to us nonetheless to peer beyond the curtain.

#hayao miyazaki #the boy and the heron #the wind rises

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nice-profession-mechanic · 3 days

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In universe reason for the several year delay for more SAB:

Moto keeps trying to refactor their code for the box to squash those glitches

Moto is trying to finish tribulation mode to proove it can be done RTA

Busy building a Scrooge McDuck style money pit for all those continue coins we keep giving him

The progeny the box was made for keep sending him fanfiction about Princess Miya and Lord Vanquish and he got too absorbed in their 23,870 chapter collaborative epic

Moto forgot the password for his administrator access to the box and is spending the rest of the year looking for his super-secret-do-not-read password book he's not supposed to have.

He caught covid and has some real bad long covid symptoms

Is earning way more money as a full time cosplayer for Princess Miya who makes appearances at progeny birthdays and gatherings

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #sab #super adventure box #headcannon

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achromant · 1 year

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In Tribulation Mode, I call that corridor in Storm Top the GSA (Grenth's Slippery Asscrack). It represents my very own personal hell.

I think i spent about as much time in that part as in the rest of the zone.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #charr #super adventure box

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hypahfixations · 2 years

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~ Hello One and All! ~

And Welcome to a Thrilling Breakdown of Dimension 20!

You’ve met our humble dungeon master Brennan Lee Mulligan, and now you’re curious on what other stories he and his crew have told. Whether you have encountered Brennan as a player from his various one-shots across different Actual Play TTRPG brands or have fallen from the heights of Avalir itself during Exandria Unlimited: The Calamity, it can be a little daunting figuring out where to start.

Allow this Intrepid Hero to be your guide, Gang!

~ Who is the Core Cast? ~

The core cast for Dimension 20 are a group of seven improv comedians, but don't let that fool you into thinking that they are not masterful storytellers.

From Left to Right: Brian Murphy, Lou Wilson, Emily Axford, Brennan Lee Mulligan, Siobhan Thompson, Zac Oyama, and Ally Beardsley.

~ Where to Watch ~

The first episode of every campaign can be watched for free from Dimension 20’s YouTube channel, with some of the older seasons being fully available for free. To gain access to all Dimension 20’s content, along with everything else on Drop Out (including Game Changers and Um, Actually?), you can either become a member on College Humor’s YouTube channel or sign up for DropOutTV. The subscription price is the same for both, just $6 a month, but the DropOut app allows you to download as many episodes as you’d like to watch in offline mode, as well as offer podcast versions.

~ List of Campaigns ~

Dimension 20 has 17 seasons, nearly half of which are played by the core cast while the others are a rotation of guest players and GMs. Rather than listing the campaigns in just release date order, I opted to list by congruency as well for those of us who like to experience one story fully.

~~~

In the World of Spyre

Genre: Fantasy John Hughes movie

System: DnD 5e

Fantasy High

Core Cast

Meet our Intrepid Heroes in their first recorded DnD campaign as teenagers attending Aguefort’s Adventuring Academy! Watch as they overcome the trials and tribulations of high school life…oh, and saving the world.

Full Season Available Here

Pirates of Leviathan

Players: Aabria Iyengar, B. Dave Walters, Carlos Luna, Krystina Arielle, Marisha Ray, and Matthew Mercer

Aboard the floating city of Leviathan, our players discover an incredibly powerful artifact and an incredibly devious scheme. Will they be able to contain it or will they sink the city into the briny depths.

**Note: This was recorded at the start of the 2020 pandemic partially through the recording of Sophomore Year.

Fantasy High: Sophomore Year

Core Cast

It’s sophomore year, baby, and you know what that means! That’s right, time for young love, tragic backstories, and hiring your parents as your employee while on a quest that 70% of your final grade!

First Six Episodes Available Here

** Note: This season is a bit heavier and has aspects of psychological horror.

The Seven

Players: Aabria Iyengar, Becca Scott, Erika Ishii, Isabella Roland, Persephone Valentine, and Rekha Shankar

Playing as the Seven Maidens set a year and a half after the finale of Fantasy High, the girls have to come to terms that their party will be broken up at the end of the year due to being in different graduation classes…or do they?

~~~

Escape From the Bloodkeep

Players: Amy Vorpal, Erika Ishii, Ify Nwadiwe, Matthew Mercer, Mike Trapp, and Rekha Shanker

Genre: Lord of the Rings Parody

System: DnD 5e

Fighting for the side of Darkness and Evil, the players are the elite advisors of the Lord of Shadows. Except the Dark Lord just suddenly died and now they have to figure out how to thwart Good once and for all!

Full Season Available Here

~~~

In the World of Actual New York City

Genre: Urban Fantasy / Superhero Adjacent

System: DnD 5e

The Unsleeping City

Core Cast

Inspired by concepts from Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere, natives of the Big Apple discover the city has so much more than meets the eye. They must come together and discover their power to defeat corruption before it destroys everything.

Full Season Available Here

The Unsleeping City: Chapter Two

Core Cast

Taking place three years after the finale of the first chapter, the players must reunite to confront the evilest enemy of them all: Capitalism Part Duex Electric Boogaloo!

~~~

Tiny Heist

Players: Clint McElroy, Griffin McElroy, Jessica Ross, Justin McElroy, Lily Du, and Travis McElroy

Genre: Ocean’s 11 meets Toy Story

System: DnD 5e

Our players embody the whimsical personas of bugs, toys, and Bitty folk to take down an overreaching mafia boss. After all, there is only one thing more motivating that the love of a child, and that’s a roll of quarters.

~~~

A Crown of Candy

Core Cast

Genre: High Fantasy / Medieval Political Intrigue

System: DnD 5e

The epic story exploring the world of Calorum, where each kingdom is comprised of different food groups that their citizens are made of. Our players are members of the House of Rocks, rulers of Candia, on their way to the naming of the next Emperor of Calorum during a time of great strife.

** Note: This campaign is perhaps the most serious out of anything else in their compendium. They explore themes of war, death, and betrayal with the gravity those topics deserve.

~~~

Mice & Murder

Players: Ally Beardsley, Grant O’Brien, Katie Marovitch, Raphael Chestang, Rekha Shankar, and Sam Reich

Genre: Whodunit / Murder Mystery

System: DnD 5e

In a world where the denizens are anthropomorphic woodland critters, the players have been invited to a fancy birthday party…where a tragedy most foul occurs.

~~~

Misfits And Magic

Guest GM: Aabria Iyengar

Players: Brennan Lee Mulligan, Danielle Radford, Erika Ishii, and Lou Wilson

Genre: Harry Potter Parody

System: Kids on Brooms

Set in the modern day, our players are invited to a prestigious wizarding school to participate in the foreign exchange pilot program, where they discover magic, themselves, and just how impractical this school can be.

** Note: There’s a Holiday Special too!

~~~

Shriek Week

Guest GM: Gabe Hicks

Players: Ally Beardsley, Dani Fernandez, Lily Du, and Ify Nwadiwe

Genre: Monster College

System: The Mythic System

Follow our players in their final semester of university as they try to find a Roëmænce Partnær before the end of year rager, as well as fend off some unwelcome visitors to their campus.

~~~

A Starstruck Odyssey

Core Cast

Genre: Sci-fi / Space Opera

System: Star Wars 5e

The players are a rag-tag group of down-on-their luck spacers just trying to survive the rough and tough galaxy of Starstruck, a technicolor multiverse based on the series of comic books created by Elaine Lee and Michael Kaluta.

~~~

Coffin Run

Guest GM: Jasmine Bhullar

Players: Carlos Luna, Erika Ishii, Isabella Roland, and Zac Oyama

Genre: Gothic Horror

System: DnD 5e

The followers of Count Dracula eagerly await his return home only to find their dark lord has been ambushed. The players are tasked with desperately trying to get his coffin back to the safety of the Castle.

~~~

A Court of Fey & Flowers

Guest GM: Aabria Iyengar

Players: Brennan Lee Mulligan, Emily Axford, Lou Wilson, Omar Najam, Oscar Montoya, and Surena Marie

Genre: Whimsical High Regency

System: Homebrew blend of Good Society & DnD 5e

Fey from all corners of the Faerie gather for The Bloom - a celebration of society, propriety, and abundance of arcane power. Sipping and serving piping hot tea, all eyes and ears are upon the players as they navigate rumors, scandals, and mysteries.

~~~

Neverafter

Core Cast

Genre: Twisted Fairytales

System: DnD 5e

Once upon a time has been cast into happily neverafter; a drought of shadow and misery plaguing the land and players of timeless storybook fame. When awareness of the wrongness is gleamed, and stories intersect in ways they should not, a glimpse between the lines and into the maw of cosmic horror spur our heroes to define destiny.

~~~

TBD

Guest GM: Matthew Mercer

Players: TBD

Genre: TBD

System: TBD

Release Date: May 2023

~ That's a lot. Recommendations? ~

Honestly, I would start with Fantasy High! It's a really good introduction to both the core cast and the way Dimension 20 sets itself apart from other Actual Play shows. From there, you can either go in order (release or series), or simply dabble with whichever genre or campaign trailer catches your eyes most.

As for my personal favorites:

Core Cast would be between A Crown of Candy and A Starstruck Odyssey. A Crown of Candy has some of the most incredible storytelling I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing - Game of Thrones wishes it could be as good! Meanwhile A Starstruck Odyssey is perhaps the funniest games I have ever watched.

Guest Cast is A Court of Fey and Flowers with a very close second being The Seven. I had never understood the appeal of regency before A Court of Fey and Flowers absolutely rocked me with the slightest brush of an ungloved hand. And no media has truly captured what it's like to be in that weird, volatile transition of teenager to young adult quiet like the Seven in the most unhinged way possible.

Wanna do a deeper dive? Visit the Dimension 20 Fan Wiki!

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draguta · 1 year

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.a court of ash and smoke | thirteen.

pairing: lucien vanserra x reader

summary: five years before feyre archeron ever stepped foot in prythian, another human girl found herself in the spring court. but the trials and tribulations of her time under the mountain left her with nothing but a certain red-headed high fae emissary, who had once resented her entire presence, to help and guide her.

chapter warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, masturbation, violence, ptsd, domestic violence

chapter word count: 3639

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please remember to reblog, like, and share a comment if you enjoy this series - it is always appreciated by writers to see their hard work valued.

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I See You

Tamlin made sure Lucien didn’t step a foot anywhere near you for the next few days. He was forced to eat his meals in his room, isolated from everyone else, and Tamlin sent him on border patrol each day, leaving early in the morning and returning late at night, well after everyone else had gone to bed, even if there were no longer any of Amarantha’s pets lurking there.

You still could not work out exactly what it was that had gotten Tamlin in such a state. Then you realised, as if something had clicked in your brain, what the problem was. He still believed that Lucien had taken advantage of you Under the Mountain, that he had become a client of yours. And he was angry.

Your suspicions were confirmed one night when you caught them in the foyer of the house. You had gone to bed early that night, with your new maid Carla having turned down your bed and helped you prepare for the night before the sun had even set. But sleep had evaded you, as it had so many nights since you’d returned home. You slipped out of bed, bare feet padding against the floor as you slipped from your room and turned toward the stairs, hoping that a cup of warm milk might help soothe you to the point of tiredness.

It was then that you saw them - or rather, heard them first.

“Don’t act innocent, Lucien. You know what you did,” Tamlin snarled. You shuddered at the harsh tone with which he spoke, the same one he had used in that hallway when he had been in beast mode. You quickly crouched behind the railing of the upstairs landing, looking down at where they stood in the foyer. Lucien was still wearing his patrol uniform, and you could only assume that he had just returned, only to be berated the second he had walked through the door.

“No, Tamlin,” Lucien argued, although he didn’t raise his voice. “I don’t know what I did. I’ve told you, nothing happened between me and her.”

Tamlin growled, and you didn’t miss the claws that shot from his knuckles. Neither did Lucien, if the retreating step back that he took was any indication. Your breath caught in your throat. “You bedded her,” Tamlin growled, voice low and rough; enraged. “My sister, and you took her to bed. You let her whore herself out to you, knowing that she had no choice.”

“And you believe that why?” Lucien snapped, hand moving to rest on the hilt of his sword, just in case, although both you and he knew that the little sword on his hip would do very little against Tamlin now that he had regained his full powers. “Because Amarantha told you that?”

“Because I saw you with my own eyes!” Tamling shouted, and you flinched. Lucien’s eyes flicked up to you at the movement, and his eyes narrowed, telling you with just that expression not to do anything, to retreat to your room and not get involved. But you couldn’t move. You just watched them, helpless to help either of them. “I saw the way you watched her, saw your hands on her, saw you take her to her chambers more than once! You want me to believe you over my own eyes?”

“You’re a fool, Tamlin,” Lucien snapped.

“And you are a traitor,” Tamlin growled. “I sent you there to look after her, to check on her and make sure she was safe, and yet the first chance you got you stuck your cock in her!”

That familiar fire flashed behind Lucien’s eyes, although his voice was calm. “I did no such thing.”

“How long did it take, hmm? For you to take advantage of her,” Tamlin snapped. “She was there for five years. Was it that first time I sent you? Or did you wait a while?”

“I didn’t touch her,” Lucien said again.

“I should kick you out right this second! I should leave you on the street,” Tamlin snarled. “To think that I gave you a roof over your head when no one else would. To think that I trusted you with my sister’s wellbeing!”

Lucien shook his head, running a hand through his red locks, loose around his face. “If you wish me to leave, then just tell me, Tamlin,” Lucien said, rather calmly. “Otherwise, do not threaten me.”

With that, he turned on his heel, pushed past Tamlin and began ascending the stairs, two at a time. “Remember whose house you are living in, Lucien!” Tamlin shouted after him, but Lucien didn’t look back. Instead, he waited for a moment until Tamlin disappeared into the lounge, before grabbing your shoulder gently, and pulling you along the hall and through the door into his bedroom.

He glanced up and down the hall once, before closing the door with a ‘click’ before you, and turned back to you, brows furrowed in anger.

“It’s because of me,” you said quietly, looking down at your hands. “He’s punishing you because of me.”

“No. He’s punishing me because he’s a prick,” Lucien snapped, although you knew that his anger was not directed at you, but rather at your brother. “He has been ever since we came back from that mountain.”

“He’s been through a lot,” you confided. “We all have.”

“And yet, you don’t see any of us lashing out at everyone else,” Lucien snapped. He saw you flinch slightly at the harshness of his tone, and his shoulders immediately dropped, and he was in front of you in two strides, hands on your shoulders rubbing comforting circles through the material of your nightdress. “I’m sorry, I just hate being forced to stay away from you like I’m some kind of…villain.”

You looked up at him, catching his russet and gold eyes with your own. “I know, I understand. I hate that you’re always gone too.”

“I just don’t know how to get through to him,” he said solemnly.

“If you leave,” I said slowly, carefully. “If he makes you go…take me with you.”

He paused, looking you over, every inch of you from top to toe. There was something there, written into the delicate edges of his face, something strong yet soft and beautiful, just as he was. “You would leave here? Leave your home?” He asked, surprised.

“If it means not having to leave you, then I would.” You winced as you said the words, perhaps a little too blunt, perhaps making yourself too obvious. But if Lucien saw it as anything other than simply kind words from a friend who had clung to him through so much, he didn’t let it show.

“Why were you even out there in the first place?” He asked quietly, swiftly changing the subject. You drew in a deep breath and took a step away from him, arms wrapping around yourself as you turned your back to him.

“I-I can’t sleep,” you eventually mumbled. You glanced up, looking at yourself in the mirror leaning against the wall. Even in the few short days that you had been back in the Spring Court, you had already put weight back on, your body already on its way to being healthy and strong. Yet, under your eyes hung heavy dark circles, a reminder of your sleepless nights, a reminder of the nightmares that you were forced to endure. “Every time I close my eyes I’m back there, helpless again.”

“I know,” Lucien said from behind you, although you didn’t mention that when you said ‘back there’ you meant shrouded in that red mist. You glanced up to his reflection in the mirror; he hadn’t moved, but his eyes were trained on you. You noticed that he wore a twinning pair of dark circles under his own eyes. “Me too.”

You shuddered slightly under his gaze as he continued, “Sometime I forget that this isn’t just a dream, or that perhaps I died under that mountain and this is just what comes next,” he paused, blinking slowly, before his lips curled into a gentle smile. “But then I see you, and I remember that this is real, that I am here, and that we survived.”

He took a slow step toward you, now just one step away. “Because I do see you, even if you don’t see me, and even if I’m ordered not to talk to you,” he whispered. Another step forward, now right behind you, hovering so close, his scent wrapping around you like a blanket. He raised a hand to rest on your upper-arm, and caught your eyes in the mirror. “I always see you.”

His other hand moved to your left arm, warm and soft. “I see you sitting in the garden, on the top of that hill to the East, looking at the flowers,” he said, voice low. “And in the library, reading your way through every book in there.”

Somehow he managed to shuffle even closer to you so that his body was pressed against yours. His fingers drew light patterns on your arms as they trailed downward toward your elbows where your skin was bare and heated. Your breath hitched in your throat as he looked down your body, his cheek against your hair, so close to you that if you even leaned less than an inch back you would be completely leaning against him.

“I look for you, even on my border patrols, as if I might turn a corner and find you there.” His voice was no more than a whisper now, and his breath was hot against your neck, coming in small waves through his words, bringing a slight tingle to the spot where your neck met your shoulder, and a strange tightening in your abdomen. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you focused on that feeling as his hands moved again, slipping over the material of your nightdress to wrap around your waist, pulling you against him tightly. “Tell me why I look for you everywhere. Tell me why I can’t help myself. Tell me why it’s killing me to stay away from you.”

You couldn’t reply, instead only letting out a gasp of air, crooking your head onto his shoulder. He took that as an invitation, and he leaned down, soft lips brushing over the column of your throat, so sweet and so fast that you barely felt them, but enough that you let out another sharp intake of breath, and leant against him entirely, succumbing to his touch entirely.

You felt him smirk against your skin as he did it again, this time slower and with more intent, soft, sweet, and passionate kisses dragging against your neck and throat, his grip on your waist tightening, whilst his other hand reached up to your head, tugging on your hair slightly to reach your head even further back, allowing him better access. You shuddered as teeth connected with skin, nipping slightly, but when his tongue lapped over the same spot, soothing it, a small moan escaped your lips.

Lucien froze, his eyes snapping open, and then his lips were gone, and his hands were slipping away from your body. Your eyes shuttered open, and as you turned to look at him, you found him facing away from you, shaking his head and hands tugging at the roots of his hair anxiously.

“W-What is it?” You asked, taking a hesitant step toward him, reaching a hand out but not letting it touch him.

“I should never have done that,” he whispered. “This was a mistake.”

You didn’t even try to disguise the flash of pain that contorted your features. “I don’t understand, did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He spun to look at you, eyes wide. “Don’t ever think that. It’s me. I was…out of line.”

“You weren’t,” you said, reaching forward to place a hand on his forearm. He winced at the contact, looking down at you carefully, but you didn’t recognise the emotion that hid behind his red-brown iris. He wrapped his hand around yours, and slowly plucked it from his arm. It felt like a stab to the heart.

“You should go,” he said quietly.

“But-”

“Just go.”

You didn’t see Lucien for the next two days. Carla informed you that she’d heard he had decided to stay nearer to the border to make his patrols easier for him, but you knew the truth; he was avoiding you, avoiding speaking of what had nearly occurred in his bedroom that night. To avoid telling you why he had rejected you so, when it had been him that had made that first move.

That night, after he had shunned you from his room and you had slipped back into your own bed, you had allowed your fingers to trail under the skirts of your nightdress, searching for relief from the pent-up heat that lingered there. Your fingers rubbed in short, slow circles in the place where your body longed for touch, imagining they were his, and you had finished on your own for the first time ever at the thought of his smile.

It wasn’t the last time that you touched yourself to the thought of him over those couple of days that he was gone, although the pleasure that came with it did little to quell the anger that you felt for him.

You spent most of your time with Feyre. She too was struggling to come to terms with everything that had happened Under the Mountain, with her new life as a High Fae, and when you had found her early one morning vomiting in a plant pot in the grounds at the back of the house, you had held her hair back and whispered soothing words to her. She had admitted to you then of the things that haunted her - they were staggeringly similar to that of your own nightmares.

Only, she didn’t see that blood-red mist cocooning her body, not the dark light that danced in that void. That was a nightmare reserved only for you, one forged in the very same depths of hell as Amarantha’s spell book, which had remained locked in the draw of your vanity ever since.

“Have you heard from him?” Feyre asked on that second morning. You were both sitting on the top of that grassy hill in the gardens, your favourite spot in the entire Spring Court, simply watching the flowers rustle in the slight breeze. You knew who she was talking about. She didn’t have to say his name.

“No,” you replied nonchalantly. “Tamlin has got him run-ragged patrolling the borders. I’m sure he’s busy.”

She looked at you from the corner of her tired eyes. She too seemed healthier than she had a mere week ago, that High Fae glow highlighting her delicate, pretty features. But she too held that same darkness, the same pain that haunted her as it did you, and Lucien, and no doubt Tamlin too. You were sure she had seen the way you had become so closed-off since Lucien’s departure, although you prayed that she did not know the reason why. The walls in the Spring Court manor were thin, and there was every chance she had heard his rejection of you.”

“You miss him,” she said quietly. “I can see it.

“He was the only good thing that I had Under the Mountain,” you explained carefully. “He was my only friend for five years. It feels strange to have him so far away now.”

“Did you and he ever…” She trailed off, not needing to finish the question; you knew what she was referring to.

“Never,” you said, choosing not to mention that night in his room. “It was never like that between us when we were…there. He never laid a hand on me like that. It’s been more complicated since then.”

“I can speak to Tam about it if you want?” She suggested, blinking over at you. “I’m sure he’ll see reason.”

“It’s ok,” you shrugged. “If anyone should talk to him about it then it should be me.”

Much to your thanks, she didn’t press the issue. You wondered if she had noticed the shift in Tamlin as Lucien and you had noticed.

“Tam said that one of his old friends will be coming here in the next few weeks,” she said, picking at the grass that you sat on. “Someone called Ianthe.”

“Well, at least we might have another friend,” you chuckled. “As much as I enjoy your company, Feyre, a fresh face might be welcome around here.”

You knew she was aware of what you meant. With Lucien gone, and Tamlin hauled away in his study most days, you rarely saw anyone but each other. You liked Feyre - she was kind-hearted and sweet, and you understood each other on a level that perhaps the men of the court didn’t - yet, having only her to confide in during those days felt too similar to the loneliness that you had felt in Amarantha’s court.

“Maybe she can join our band of misfits,” Feyre chuckled. You rose to your feet and brushed off the dew from your dress, still clinging to the soft cotton.

“We can only hope she’s as miserable as we are,” you smirked. “Otherwise, she’ll never fit in.”

You did end up seeking Tamlin out two days later. You found him, as usual, in his study, hunched over his desk, going through papers and documents regarding the welfare of his estate and the surrounding grounds following the end of Amarantha’s threat and reign. He had been working so hard, had become so solitary in the time that passed since you had returned. When you had asked him to walk the grounds with you, just as you once had so often, he had simply grunted that he had too much work to do. That may have been the case, with so much up in the air now, but it felt rather like he simply didn’t want any company, and would rather he wasn’t forced to endure accompanying anyone else either. Even Feyre was left to her own devices most days, besides the time that the two of you spent together.

You knocked gently at the open door, and Tamlin glanced over his shoulder, shooting you a small, fleeting smile, before returning to his papers. “I can’t tour the grounds today. Find Feyre, I’m sure she’ll go instead,” he grunted, just as he had the last time you had asked. “I’ve got too much to do. So many papers to go through, I fear I might lose my head.”

A glimmer of the Tamlin you had once known. At least his humour was shining through.

You let out a light, hesitant chuckle. “That’s ok,” you said, taking a step into the room. “There was actually something else that you were hoping to speak to you about.”

Tamlin turned in his chair, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest as he frowned over at you. “Hmm? And what might that be?”

You took another small step toward him. “I wanted to talk about Lucien, about him coming back home.”

You had barely uttered Lucien’s name before Tamlin threw a hand up in dismissal, shaking his head firmly. “No.”

“But Tam, see reason-”

“No.”

“But he hasn’t done anything wrong-”

“I said no!” He shouted, and you flinched away from him quickly. He sighed, rising to his feet as he rubbed a hand across his face in frustration. He stepped toward you. “Why would you want him here? After what he did to you?”

“He didn’t do anything to me!” You snapped back angrily. “He helped me! He protected me when no one else would. He was my only friend, and you’ve sent him away for no reason!”

“I had my reasons,” he growled, coming another few steps forward, looming over you. “Did you enjoy whoring yourself out to him so much that you’ve forgotten who was trying to get you out of that hellhole for five years? Because it certainly wasn’t Lucien.”

Your mouth hung open agape in shock. There was anger burning behind those emerald eyes; pure, unhinged rage. This Tamlin wasn’t the same as the one who had saved you all those years ago. You were looking at someone completely different, and whether this was his way of processing what had happened to him or not, you could not believe the words that he had spoken.

“He did more to help me in those five years than you ever did!”

The words had slipped from your tongue before you’d had a chance to think it over properly. In an instant his hands were gripping your wrists tightly, and he was pushing you against the wall, hitting your head against the wood panelling enough that you yelped in pain. “You would dare disobey me?!” His grip on your wrists, the way that he had me held against that wall, was agony. His claws were protruding from his knuckles, slicing at the skin on your wrists to the point that dribbles of your blood began to drip down them to cover his hands and wrists. Just below that, his fingers dug it, cutting off the circulation to your fingers, tight enough to surely leave bruises in their wake.

“Tam, you’re hurting me,” you whined, turning your head to the side and away from him.

“Do not,” he snarled. “Question me in my court again. Do you understand?”

You nodded firmly, and with one final push, he let you go and returned to his desk as if nothing had happened at all. You stayed there, frozen to the spot, shaking terribly for just a moment, and then fled to the safety of your room, locking the door behind you.

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