#death and other epilogues

[stalkedbytrains]

The Riddles of a Sphinx

It seems like everyone else got paired with a more helpful companion. Eli knew a couple of people with dragons, there were even a few unicorns roaming around the area with their riders’ noses stuck permanently up in the air; hell, he was even friends with a badass chick who had a griffon! A griffon! It is a combination of like three different animals and it is all deadly and graceful.

Why did he have to get stuck with a sphinx?

Don’t get him wrong, Eli loved Klea. She was a great companion. It was just that he could never get her to do anything. So many riddles. And Eli was awful at riddles. Like not just bad at them, he was atrocious.

He had gotten Klea’s egg when he was five (like all kids do), and the adorable lioness bodied, girl face creature instantly bonded with the small boy. At the time he was excited, he had gotten a sphinx! No one else he knew had a sphinx. He was special, and Klea was special. The pair grew up together and had lots of fun and even more adventures. When he was seven and Klea was two, she was able to speak in simple riddles. At the time he was good at the simple riddles.

But as the pair grew up the riddles had gotten harder. Eli was not a clever man, and it was now impossible for him to get his sphinx to do anything.

In fact, he was twenty-two at the current time, and was trying to figure out something to wear out that night.

“Klea?” he asked as he looked at his disheveled and mildly attractive face. “Can you grab me the dark jeans from my closet.”

The sphinx was currently occupying almost all of Eli’s bed. Klea’s dark brown eyes narrowed on Eli’s back.

“What’s the best way to keep a hat from falling off your head?” she asked in that deep, almost purring tone of voice that she had.

“By not having a hat,” Eli said.

“Wrong.”

Eli let out a long and loud, “Ugh. Why can’t you ever just be helpful?”

Klea frowned and stretched out on the bed, letting her large eagle wings expand to almost their full wingspan. “It’s my nature. I can’t do anything you ask until you answer the riddle. I don’t like it any more than you do. You know this, we’ve been over it a million times.”

“I know. I was being rhetorical,” Eli moaned as he walked around the wings and carefully avoided stepping on Klea’s tail.

He got the jeans out of the closet, along with a t-shirt that was hanging up next to them. After dressing he looked at himself in the mirror, and tried to flatten his dirty blond hair.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“Acceptable,” Klea responded lazily. Her eyes were closed and she looked like she was about to fall asleep.

Eli frowned.

“What are you so concerned about anyways?” the sphinx asked.

“What are the two things you can never eat for breakfast?” Eli asked back mockingly.

“Lunch and dinner,” Klea responded and then waited patiently for him to answer.

“We are going out tonight. The whole gang is supposed to be there,” Eli said. “Except that Angela and Ste already canceled. Phil is going to be his usual flakey self. Mark and Jacob will be all over each other so who can really say that they’ll even be there.” He sighed. “And then Maia will be there.”

Klea opened her eyes and studied her companion. “This is the woman you fancy, yes?”

Eli nodded. “She’s the one with the griffon.”

Klea nodded. She climbed off the bed, which squeaked in protest. She put her head on Eli’s shoulder. “You shall be fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eli sighed as he gave the sphinx a scratch under the chin. The large lioness purred. “Ready to go?”

“Almost,” Klea said as she licked the side of Eli’s head a few times to get his hair to sit just right. It looked like the stylish ‘just got out of bed but I showered and gelled my hair so it will look like I got out of bed when I actually didn’t’ look. “Better.”

Eli smiled. “Thanks. And I’m sorry about before.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Any chance you can give me a ride to bar?” he asked.

“I am at the beginning of the end, the end of every place. I am at the beginning of all eternity, the end of time of space. What am I?” she asked. She would very much like to give her friend a ride, to take off into the sky on her massive and impressive wings, so Klea gave Eli an easy riddle. Something even a child could get.

 “Your mom,” Eli said.

The sphinx chuckled. “No, but that was funny.”

“Thanks. Any chance I can get a hint?”

“No.”

“I thought not. I can do with a walk anyways.”

Twenty minutes later, Eli and Klea sat outside at the bar’s patio. He was drinking a rum and coke while Klea had a small saucer of Egyptian honey beer she would lap at every now and again.

Mark and Jacob were there, but they were already engaged in a very quiet, very close conversation punctuated by awkwardly making out in front of Eli. Their companions, a Pegasus and a Iele (a kind of nature nymph) were also getting along great, but leaving Klea to sip her beer with Eli awkwardly alone in company.

By the end of his first drink, and no sign of the pretty Maia or the impressive griffon, Eli was going to quietly excuse himself when the chair next to him was pulled out and Maia sat down next to him with a large beer glass.

“They’re already going at it, huh?” she asked as she briefly watched Mark and Jacob being all touchy-feely.

“Yeah,” Eli replied. “At least there is someone else here to share my pain.”

“Everyone else dropped out?” Maia asked.

Eli nodded silently.

“I was about to get another drink. Possibly a shot or two. You want anything?” Eli asked.

“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” she said standing up, not wanting to spend more time watching the loving couple, who had just un-broken up for the third time.

Maia was a tall woman, but with her boots (with an impressive heal) she was even taller than Eli who proudly boasted he was over six feet tall. Her ponytailed hair was dyed white, which gave her the impression of being much older than twenty-five, and made her stunning jade green eyes positively stand out. She was incredibly attractive, and Eli felt suddenly nervous.

Klea put a paw on his back and pushed him forward a bit.

“What’s your name?” Maia asked the sphinx. “I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced.”

“Klea,” the sphinx said as she extended a massive paw to shake the woman’s tiny hand.

“I’m Maia, and this is Cheiron. Would you mind keeping him company for a bit? He gets nervous in crowds by himself,” Maia said as she pet the griffon’s feathery neck who cooed quietly into the hand.

“I take what you receive and surrender it all by waving of my flag. What am I?” Klea asked instantly.

“Sorry, if you ask her to do anything, she won’t do it until you answer a riddle,” Eli said as he blushed.

Maia just smiled and thought for a second, “A mailbox.”

“Correct,” the sphinx said with more than a little surprise and a smile. “I shall wait here with Cheiron.”

“Let’s get something to drink,” Maia said as she grabbed Eli’s arm and lead him to the bar as the two companion animals turned to each other to sniff and inspect each other the way animals do.

“I don’t see many griffons around,” Eli commented.

“Cheiron is something special,” Maia said with a smile after a shot of tequila. “What about you? I don’t see any sphinxes around.”

“Klea is my best friend, but all the riddles get pretty annoying,” Eli admitted after he let the burn of the alcohol fade. “But other than that she’s basically a big, lazy cat. Nothing, however, could ever shake the loyalty and dedication of a sphinx. I mean she’s put up with me for all these years.”

Maia smiled. “Same with Cheiron, I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with, but he’s just bared it all with constant grace.

“I propose another shot, to our companions.”

“An excellent decision.”

Eli and Maia talked the night away; he got to talk about his studies in companion animal sciences and his hope to work with the agency that handed out the eggs to every child at age five, and she got to speak about her work as an artist and the difficulty of life of being only a painter. Eli had more to drink than he usually did, which was why he was so chatty. And for that matter, so did Klea, who was found at the end of the night playfully trying to fight the mostly quiet griffon in the way only a thousand-pound lioness with eagle wings and woman’s face could.

When it came time to end the evening’s festivities, Eli bid farewell to the lovely Maia who got on her sober griffon and flew off home.

“That was an interesting evening,” Klea said as she stumbled a bit while trying to stand.

“Hehe,” Eli laughed, “drunk sphinx.”

“You’re one to talk,” she said dryly.

“Yup, I talk a lot when I drink! Ya learn something new every day. Come on let’s go home,” Eli said as the pair stumbled home.

A little while later they stumbled into the apartment, and Eli flopped on the couch.

“Klea,” he called, “I want a pizza.”

“What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?” she asked reflexively.

“A carrot!” Eli yelled with his head in a pillow.

Two minutes later Klea was struggling to open the frozen pizza box with her large lion paws. The plastic packaging was not cooperating with the paws that were easily larger than the entire pizza. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on her enemy: mass produced, frozen food commodity. Sometime later she dropped a warmish pizza on the table next to Eli’s drunk form on the couch. She crawled up on the couch and flopped on top of him.

Without looking at the pizza, Eli grabbed a piece and ate it. “It tastes like sphinx,” he muttered as he pulled out a long, tan sphinx hair.

“That’s what happens when a sphinx cooks for you,” Klea said. And then suddenly, “You solved my riddle!” She happily licked his face like a happy large cat.

“Yay me,” Eli said with a mouthful of half cooked pizza, utterly failing to grasp the ramifications of what just happened, bearing the sphinx’s show of gratitude with a calm indifference. “Klea… What should I do with Maia? I don’t think she likes me the way I like her. Give me some advice, some ancient sphinx wisdom.”

“What building has the most stories?”

“A library,” Eli said without even thinking about the question or the answer.

“She obviously likes you. You spent the entire night together. Like a date. And her griffon told me as much.”

“Griffons can speak?” Eli asked, mouth open in shock, only to close it on another slice of pizza. “I had no idea!”

“You should do it,” Klea muttered.

“We should go to bed,” Eli murmured. “Carry me.”

“I have a tongue but cannot taste. I have a soul but cannot feel. What am I?”

“A shoe. I’m still wearing them,” he said as he tried to pry off his shoes, while still being covered by a large, drunk sphinx.

Klea opened her eyes halfway, and got off of Eli and the couch. She grabbed his shirt in her teeth and, with some delicate drunk maneuvering, put him on her back. She padded into the bedroom and flopped on the bed.

Eli didn’t use blankets ever, since the sphinx next to him was practically a furnace. Klea put one large arm around him and the pair fell asleep.

When they woke up in the afternoon, Eli looked at the mangled remains of what could have once been a pizza.

“Who made food last night?” he asked.

Klea looked up at him with tired eyes. “I think I did.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t you ask me to?”

“Then why don’t you clean up after yourself?” Eli asked.

“I am lighter than a feather and yet the strongest man cannot hold me for more than five minutes. What am I?” Klea asked as she laid down on the carpeted floor in a sunbeam.

“My bladder,” Eli said as he stomped off to the bathroom.

“Wrong,” Klea said as she fell back asleep.

#the riddles of a sphinx #death and other epilogues #my fiction #original fiction #writeblr

[moonsun2010]

It's finally over.

Other portraits:

Mina | Jonathan | Dracula | Lucy | Lucy...? | Lucy (Final) | Jonathan (3 Oct) | Mina (3 Oct) | Dracula (Final)

#my art #dracula #dracula daily #cw violence #cw death #cw gore #in a way? im not sure what a knife to the throat and chest are #but WOO BOY ITS ENDED. DRACULAS FINALLY BEEN VANQUISHED #almost anticlimatic how fast the final fight went down but jon has insane strength to just haul the box like that #i can imagine the scene just full of action amd flashing knives all fighting for their lives and others lives #draculas growing smile as the sun goes down and theway mina says she though she saw him smile at his death ;;-;; 10/10 good job stoker #so many feelings but dont go yet! theres still tomorrows epilogue

[aroacettorney]

when will aup sidestories return from war and stop leaving me bitter about how the main story ended

#lumensis' characterization & death + the revelation of ludgers desire were extremely anticlimactic #700+ chapters of building up only to have the resolution forcefully/hastily crammed into. what. 2 and 1/2 chapters? #and am i supposed to care for his relationship with his mom when it didnt come up in 99% of the novel? #tbh it had *many* opportunities to come up but the author wanted to keep ludgers desire as mysterious as possible #and so it lost its chance to have any emotional buildup #well other than the implications of regrets which were frankly a bit oversaturated in the novel #(again. what happened to the 'show dont tell' principles) #honestly even occasional flashbacks to ludgers mom teaching him about all kinds of myths and lores when its relevant #would have helped in this aspect plus showcased his growth and development over time even when its off screen #(doesnt make his vast knowledge look like it conveniently came out of nowhere) #while also greatly enhancing the world building of his game breaking 'real magic' #anyway i think ludgers reconciliation w his mother would have been more impactful if ludgers past life came up more often #hell it would have done wonder in exploring his depth if we are going with framing his past lifestyle as a flaw #the thing about ludger as a character is that his past (in both worlds) is much more interesting than his present #bc its the only way we can see how he mentally changed in comparison as his changes are nearly non existent in the present timeline #(a part of the reasons why ludgercaseys relationship over time is an appealing topic is that it showcases both of their changes) #(reading about a protagonist who has no mental changes over the course of the story is no different than watching... a nature documentary) #im still v salty about how we never get to see arpas and bettys reconciliation btw #so do emotional closures between ludger and other characters #those are literally the meat of the story that would be worthy of their own arc #sayren why the hell did you rush through them and put them off screen #in the end instead of proving that he has finally learnt his lessons by confronting his emotions ludger chose to run away from it yet again #even if we are to assume that is whats gonna happen post epilogue why is his change accomplished by a goddamn last minute timeskip #(that is also lowkey a failed suicide attempt in disguise) #instead of what could have been... idk... a banger novel named aup #good christ #rant

[trahoalai]

last week I started playing trigaea and it introduced the character of [REDACTED] to me and I loved him soooo much I went through the motions I did all the tedious battling and got every single upgrade I was gonna complete the game in one whole night with my sole motivation being "I wanna see [REDACTED] again!!!!!!" and then it turned out [REDACTED] was Dead All Along and I deleted trigaea

#like its never been that serious to me until now #the aliens were like “help us kill the humans and robots” #and the robots were like “help us kill the aliens and humans” #and the humans were like “help us kill the robots and aliens” #mc is way better than me bc atp I couldnt gaf like my babygirl is dead!!!!!!! let everyone kill each other none of them matter to me #mind u I had been a complete pacifist I talked things through with every enemy when that didnt work I scared them away #felt like achilles going on his murder rampage when patroclus died #k maybe thats a little dramatic. trigaea was a decent game and the story was very interesting and cool #also it gave no inclination that [REDACTED] had survived honestly his death makes a lot of sense plot wise #when he was like “happy anniversary babe 😊” I immediately went wowww ur kinda giving dead wife in a detective film #but come on!!!!!!!! couldnt he have pulled a sakazaki yuuya???? #(revived off screen and joins everyone in the happy epilogue lol) #didnt finish the game so maybe that happened 👉😑👈 lalalala

[sovonight]

.

#i wanted to find xan's epilogue slides so that i could talk about them and i failed but im talking abt them off my memory anyway #so: how is xan legally allowed to become charname's high priest when he still has the moonblade #like. that's corellon's thing. so what is the process of divorcing himself from that duty #previous conversations have emphasized that chances for him to be free of the moonblade are rare and difficult #so i assume charname as a new deity steps in and does that for him #but even if it's possible & easy: would xan give it up just like that? like he says multiple times that he hates the burden of the sword #but i keep thinking back to that 1 exchange abt secret names where xan explains his secret name literally means promised to the blade #and charname's like 'i prefer xan to your true name and i think so do you; it separates you from your moonblade' #and xan gets really quiet and he's like 'my name was a gift from my father. as was the moonblade' and the conversation instantly ends #like??? the blade is tied up in so much significance. is he really so ready to simp for goddess!charname that his filial piety disappears #like i know that immediately after u save him from bodhi he's like 'i will do whatever you want me to with my life' #and he's outright like 'if you want me to be your high priest when you ascend to godhood i'm 100% down' #but bro just for saving his life?? idk abt anyone else but i save his life on a daily basis. guy is always 2 hits away from death #maybe he's especially awed like 'wow charname took a potentially fatal blow for me' but my guy she does that every damn hour #she's a permanent member of the front line just to keep the aggro off of you. have some more appreciation for her everyday sacrifice #idk it's the way that he's been asking charname not to use her divine powers for 2 full games bc he fears it will consume her #and how he's been sighing longingly and going 'i wish we could have our wedding and a quiet life' #and then. suddenly. he's indifferent to / in full support of the goddess ending?? #like my guy are you aware that you're going to have to share her?? that she'll have other champions besides you?? #that you're never going to truly have her again? that the most you will have of her is her avatar and the visits she makes in your dreams #that you're abandoning the seldarine and might not get to see your parents in the afterlife ever?? #i do love the full devotion thing. i do. but xan's brand of devotion has always come with an asterisk #his and charname's values have to align even Somewhat for his romance to even happen #so what is this? ''if you get far enough in his romance his values no longer matter''? #''feel free to choose whatever ending you want bc at this point he'll just indulge you and go along with it''? #sorry did i romance a fucking reed in the wind?? if i wanted someone that bends to any and all whims xan would be the last person i picked #he's all 'i can't say no to you' now and i'm like *slumps over my desk* i miss when he was contrary about everything #the 'cant say no' thing is even worse if in the underdark you--no i wont get into it #sovo note

[erythristicbones]

having thoughts about a particular plot point that connects two of my otherwise unrelated stories and how incredibly fucking sad it makes me/how i wish i could not have it happen without completely altering the paths of said stories.....and then going "what if i just split it into two characters and sever the connection between them"

#my original stories #i know this is so vague but #what if i just dont kill that character? what if i insert somebody else into that sacrificial spot? #it means needing to weave the new sacrifice into the beginning of story 2 a bit more so that the death still hits hard #but technically story 1 doesnt need to have that death happen in the epilogue at all #what if i say 'fuck this' and have one story that just doesnt have to get that deep #actually im gonna stop being vague. this is about danae #oc: danae moreno #danaes death serves a huge purpose in TSOFF but is so fucking hard to do after how #i built her up thru sideshow #but like...sideshow would probably work better WITHOUT being tied to any of my bigger stories in that way #in fact danaes death after everythin she survives thru in sideshow would just suck narratively #so what if i remove her from TSOFF/tashas backstory and insert a new OC to take that place #let danae be happy and not dead bc i think ive put her thru more than any other oc of mine and i no longer like that #this also means havin to rework a few other big plot points of TSOFF.....but i think that would be worth it #i think letting one of my comfort OCs no longer have to go thru THAT much hell is worth it #os: fireflies

[albatris]

worst death in rental car absolutely goes to that one random human nat speaks to about his car in book one

nat goes poking about and everyone is like "what fucking car there was never a car here" but this one guy is like "oh yeah I'm in town for a bit helping my grandma move into a new house n we both saw that car near the reservoir. we thought it was weird no one else seemed to notice it. also it's illegal to park there. also why are your eyes fucking blood red? you clearly are involved in Something (the plot of a novel with supernatural elements). you MAY treat me to lunch and pick my brain about what I know but I don't want to get involved in some demon bullshit ok"

anyway he pops up a couple of times. early story nat thinks he smells tasty and keeps thinking about how nice it would be to eat him but that's just because nat is a brand new dumb baby vampire. they part ways on friendly terms lol. and nat figures he finished helping his grandma out and went back to his own place

he did not! but don't worry buddy you'll see him again in book two <3

for the single most nauseating scene in the entire trilogy

#i was thinkin about Rental Car Deaths #bc i have tried not to spoil any big deaths but also the fact that you know big deaths are coming is a spoiler in itself #like process of elimination.... you can easily figure who DOESN'T die #bc I'm a horrible little gremlin who loves to post spoilers #you know it's not alex. because I'm not quiet about alex's particular ending #n if you've heard me speak about the ending and epilogue you know several other characters it can't be #and it's NOT grub the cat. omg i could never #a rental car takes a left down rake street and disappears

[cinnabeat]

im gonna be straight honest i think half the reason why i stopped reading dgm is bc lavi hadnt showed up in AGES

#he was my fave back then #if you ask me now its kanda tho #i stopped reading around when kanda finally found allen and i was like omg!! <3 #but yeah i stopped reading mostly bc there was so much time in between chapters that i forgot what was happening #also the fact lenalee hadnt shown up in forever either? #also it was getting a little too much depressing for me #thats my reason for stopping reading a lot of things ive realized which realy goes to show how amazing pandora hearts is for managing to kee #keep my interest through tears and all #i think maybe bc hm most stories that get really sad depressing tragic whatever is the lonliness #i think most of those stories focus on a single main character obvs and often the mc becomes isolated in some way #but ph strength was the character interactions and for me it was how even tho oz was the main character there was still a lot of #hmm like it showed so many different peoples povs you know? it wasnt focused solely on one person #so i dont feel like im drowning in angst? also the depressing bits were like. scattered? #i havent thought too hard about it but off the top of my head ph is about healing and acceptance? maybe?? #or idk #i really couldnt tel you what is it about ph that makes me like it so much despite the inherent tragedy to it all #im trying to think of the final death count but?? all im thinking of is break elliot oz and alice??? no wait and oscar too #so in the end its not like fucking everyone died #oh well i guess vincent too but that was in the fucking epilogue and also idc about him too much #omg im really trying to think of other people who died #ECHO omg forgot about my girl echo #i forgot where i was going with this #if i were so inclined i could totally write an essay about the themes of ph but that requires a heart of steel that i do not possess #michi tag #god i would kill for a ph anime i swear

[pagesinmylife]

Things people don’t talk about enough from the Hunger Games:

Many of Katniss’ strongest allies are women that are over looked by others (Madge, Rue, Mags, Wiress)

While Katniss has a strained relationship with her mother, her mother is never demonized. Katniss recognizes the trauma her mother went through and was willing to try to improve their relationship in CF

The rebellion didn’t start with the berries. The rebellion started when Katniss showed compassion towards a dying, black girl that the world had already written off as unimportant

One of the beauty trends in the capitol that Katniss finds odd is the shaving of body hair. When her leg hair grows back in CF, she expresses comfort in it.

Katniss’ character arc throughout the series is her understanding of who the enemy is. It isn’t the rich people in district 12, or the other tributes, or the other districts, or the people in the capitol. It’s the government and it’s Snow.

Katniss never wanted another hunger games with the kids of the capitol. In that meeting she recognizes Coin’s commitment to perpetuating the cycle of violence. She votes in favor of it to cover her plans of killing Coin.

The violence in the books is SUPPOSED to feel random and unfair. Prim being reaped was supposed to be against all odds because in the real world, violence is indiscriminate.

Gale is a victim too and was not solely responsible for the death of Prim. He spent the first two books feeling helpless as he watched people he loved be put in danger and suffer. Coin offered him a way to regain control. At the end of the day, Gale is only 18 and doesn’t realize the depth of the games being played.

Katniss is great with kids and actually enjoys being around them. She says the only reason she doesn’t want them is because she can’t imagine them being put in the hunger games. Her having children in the epilogue is a sign of her healing and finally feeling safe

#the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #booklr #reading #piml #gale hawthorne

[stalkedbytrains]

Stone Face Sorrow

The mourners were all there, in their elaborately carved masks. Each carved face covering was unique to the person, to the family, to the emotion the wood conveyed for flesh. All of them showed sadness or regret or, in a few cases, sorrow.

All of them were draped head to toe in black, not a piece of skin showing, only masks, frozen in a single emotion. The procession started, passed the freshly dug grace, passed the coffin, passed the crying masks of a tall figure, passed the three smaller sad masked figures, the husband and the children of the deceased.

A processional of carved mourning faces moved passed the grieving family, offering flowers on the grave and hushed, muffled words of condolences. The masked family nodded their acceptance of the comforts but didn’t say anything, the masks conveying their emotions for them.

With the processional was almost done, only one person was left. There was no billow of breath rising from beneath the elegantly carved sorrow mask. Not a single indication that it breathed, or if it did, the breath was warm.

Empty, sad eyes of the mask looked over the small remains of the family and placed a small statuette on the coffin, before turning to leave. The footprints left behind in the semi-frozen mud were much deeper than the others of the processional.

The tall remaining figure, the husband of the deceased woman, looked at the statuette only to see the small representation of the Wailing Father.

That would mean…

The man quickly turned to see where the last person went, the one with the heavy Sorrow mask, but they were gone, off into the late evening mist that was rolling off the mountains.

He was nervous now, was it possibly they were just visited by The Sorrow?

He didn’t know, didn’t want to know.

With the processional, and the funeral over, the husband took his children out of the cemetery and back to the house.

Once inside, in private, the family could remove their masks and cloaks. They sat together in silence. The twins hugged the little one, a girl no older than four.

The father was just about to rise from his seat to fetch something. He was dimly aware that the girls needed to eat, but he wasn’t hungry. That was when they heard the loud footsteps on the front porch. Slow, heavy footsteps.

Then the door burst open revealing in the Sorrow masked figure, dressed all in black, with a cold, late winder wind blowing in behind it.

The figure stepped in, crossing the threshold with heavy, steady steps. Then with a black clad hand, reached back and closed the wooden door behind it before standing in silence.

In the absolute silence that radiated from the being’s presence the family could hear a quiet, raspy, labored breathing despite seeing no breath coming from it earlier.

The father moved, stood in front of his daughters and yelled, “We don’t want you here! We didn’t pray to the Wailing Father! Leave us in peace! Please!”

But the hollow eyes of the Sorrow weren’t directed at the father, or at the older girls, the twins with the dark hair, past them to the smallest girl, the four year old with the shock of bright blonde hair. The instant girl felt the attention on her she ran away from her father and sisters and into the back bedroom.

“Just leave us alone! We thank the Wailing Father for sending you in our hour of despair but we don’t need your services, please. My wife… my wife is dead. There’s nothing to be done. She drowned,” the father choked out.

Suddenly the younger girl was back, this time she was holding up a much too large mask of dark wood, painted red, with an angry snarl carved into it.

With the wooden barrier between herself and the masked Sorrow, she spoke up, “Will you find out who killed mommy?”

Sorrow descended, resting on knees that were hidden the large dark robe. With a voice like air escaping from a long sealed tomb it answered, “Yes.”

“Good,” the girl said. “I’m mad at them. Mommy was supposed to come home. We was gonna read the end of the Princesses story together. But now she can’t.”

Sorrow’s empty eyes stared back at Anger held up by the four year old. For a long moment there was silence.

The Sorrow stood up and exited the house with a slow but determined gait.

The next night was just as cold and windy as the night of the funeral, but today had a sleety, half frozen rain to add to it.

The tavern’s fireplaces were all roaring and the food was hot. All of the patrons were dressed in their warmest, their masks were often the woolen or knitted variety, politely hiding half their faces while leaving their mouths exposed as to better talk and drink.

Through his informal, dull, half-faded mask that showed off his cheeks and mouth and chin, the bartender surveyed the bar.

All of the masked faces turned when someone burst through the door. All of the people that were usually here were here, and everyone else was in the safety and warmth of their own houses. It was either an out-of-towner or bad news.

The new arrival threw off their clock, soaked with freezing rain and before the tavern stood a tall, red cheeked, auburn hair elf with pointed ears, high cheekbones, bright eyes and no mask.

After shaking out some of the water from their curly and graying hair, the elf took a seat at the bar.

“What do you want here bareface?’ the bartender asked unkindly.

They always started with the maskless insults before they moved into the racism.

But the elf was tired and having none of it. They reached into their pocket and produced a hand sized piece of metal. The second they slapped it on the table it glowed, white, and brilliant and outshone everything else in the tavern. After a second the light faded and the metal returned to being just a highly polished metal star.

The bartender’s attitude changed. “What can I offer you Lady Investigator?”

“Whiskey,” they said. “You may refer to me as Investigator Stalking Heron.”

“Start with what?” he asked nervously, adjusting his mask to sit correctly over his face.

“I heard Sorrow is in town. Has anyone in town died recently? Or anyone seen the Sorrow faced being?” they asked loudly.

Once again the silence filled the room like smoke, choking out the sound.

“I’ll take that oppressive silence as a yes. Any one seen The Sorrow? Anyone pray to the Wailing Father?” Heron asked.

They were only greeted with more silence.

“Do you want me to break out my mask? I’ll get it and conduct this investigation all proper like if that’s what you all want,” they threatened.

When the elf was met with only silence, the mysterious Investigator started to reach for their coat when the man slumped on the bar next to them drunkenly raised his head.

“It was me! My wife died three days ago. Drowned in that damn lake out back. My littlest prayed to the Wailing Father himself and he sent The Sorrow down on our heads. Maybe we’ll find out if a godsend can fight a lake.”

Heron sighed heavily. “I’m sorry,” they said with genuine sadness. “But if Sorrow is here, then I hate to tell you that your wife was murdered.”

The drunk and bereaved man broke out into a fresh round of sobs.

"I’m going to need a room somewhere,” Investigator Heron said. “I’ve got to solve a murder quickly before you’re burying someone else.”

“If they killed my wife,” the drunk shouted. “They’ll be lucky if there’s anything left to bury!”

“Alright Elijah, I know you’re grieving, but it’s time you went home,” the bartender told him.

The drunk was already asleep.

“Silah is dead, someone prays to your damn elven demon god, Sorrow is here, and now a barefaced elven Investigator here. How can it get any worse?” the bartender muttered as he looked at the passed out man on his bar.

“The barefaced elf is Inspector Heron,” they said with a menacing finger pointed at the bartender. “And as if your ignorance couldn’t show any further, the Wailing Father is one of the very few gods that exist in all six major pantheons. Now, if you’re done choking everyone with your extreme aura of stupidity. I need to get to the bottom of this, get to the murderer before Sorrow does. If I do, there’s a chance that Sorrow will back off. They usually stand down when the murderer is brought to justice. Otherwise it’s just a death sentence. And it’s only a matter of time.”

At that moment, outside the bar, the figure in the Sorrow mask stood silent into the rain, empty mask eyes fixed on the bank of the slowly defrosting lake.

It stood there for some time, just looking without eyes or perhaps waiting.

Elijah stumbled out of the bar, with the help of one of his neighbors. The light spilled out of the open doorway for just a moment, illuminating the Sorrow, but in the next moment it was gone.

The two men walked through the slush and frozen rain towards Elijah’s house, masks keeping out the worst of the rain.

Neither of them noticed the Sorrow outside the house down the small lane from the both of them. If Sorrow had eyes to read it held the posture of something reading the name sign posting on the outside of the house.

But the men were too drunk and too eager to be out of the weather to notice the dark figure lurking.

Back in the bar, Investigator Heron started questioning patrons. They held the shining star in their hand at all times, metal gently pricking into their hands, as they passed from patron to patron. The human’s masks and half masks made it difficult to tell if someone was lying to them, but that’s why they had the star.

Every time someone lied to them the star started to glow. It made it easier for them. Even though Heron was a master liar at one point in their life, mask or no mask. But it still didn’t change the fact that they were no investigator, not really. So they held on to the star all the tighter.

They discovered that the deceased Silah was in the bar the night she died. Her husband was at home with the children. Silah and some of the other wives met once a month in the tavern for some time away from their usual duties. The last one to see Silah alive was the barkeep since she stayed till the tavern closed. The innkeeper was rapidly moving up the list of Heron’s suspects. He was right behind the husband, because it was always the husband.

Heron moved to put on their own mask, the terrifying bird shaped mask all investigators wore, their head a bit too small for it, even with their hair. The long beak and dark wood made it the long and thin elf look even more avian.

They’d barely got it on when someone burst into the tavern looking terrifying.

“Sorrow! It’s here!” the frightened young man yelled. “It’s in the cemetery!”

Heron swore, not bothering to take off their mask, and ran out into the driving rains, barely taking time to put on their clock as they ran.

If Sorrow was in the cemetery, then there was a chance. A slim chance, that maybe Sorrow would be occupied with the body of Silah. Hopefully they’d get there before Sorrow left.

They spoke a quick word that rolled off their tongue and a bright little marsh light appeared before them, lighting their way through the darkness.

Sorrow was in the cemetery, seemingly looking at headstones. Black shrouded fingers traced lettering on gravestones. The figure stood for several moments surrounded by the dead, a bit of it was touching their gravestones as if absorbing their lives through the tiny little epitaphs that sum up entire existences in as few words as possible.

By the time the marsh light got to the cemetery, Sorrow was already gone.

Heron swore, their tongue flying other lilting syllables in elvish, cursing everything, mostly themselves.

There was a statue of the Wailing Father in the cemetery, for the dead center. A grief stricken father kneeling over all the graves in the cemetery. Permanent, unending anguish over his finely sculpted face.

“You’ve already figured it out haven’t you?” Heron asked the statue, dropping the mask in the mud. “I’m not even half the investigator you were. Not even close. I don’t even know if I should go after the bartender or the husband.” They sank to their knees, falling into the freezing mud. “I know I’ve said it before, but I’d give anything to trade places with you. You should be the investigator everyone knows and fears. I should be the one that’s… that’s… Why? You were always the good one, the better one. I was the fuck up. I never wanted your job, your name, but you’re gone. And I’m trying, I’m trying so hard to be a better person, to be you, but I’m not. I’m just still me, and I’m awful at it. Just… just come home? Please? I can’t do this without you.”

The elf with the assumed name Heron knelt in the half melted snow and mud and midnight night rain before the Wailing Father. They knew it was too late. Sorrow had their target and was probably on its way. And they didn’t even know where to begin.

The rain blurred away the tears as soon as they fell, but it didn’t wash away the cries of anguish and failure.

Heron was alone, cold, tired, and failing more than they succeeded. All of that barefaced, raw emotion was coming out as they mirrored the emotions set in stone before her.

The weather did not care. If the Wailing Father cared, he didn’t show it.

“We’re closed!” the tavern keep called as he heard the door open and shut behind heavy footsteps.

He turned around to repeat the phrase, but instead found himself face-to-face with a pale weeping mask of sadness and stone.

“Fuck!” he cried and fell backwards.

“Murderer,” whispered the voice from behind the mask like a stale breeze being let out of a cave.

“I did nothing!” he yelled as he reached beneath his bar for the short sword hidden there.

He held up the sword between himself and Sorrow. The being did not move, save for the masked face that followed him as he slipped out from behind the bar.

“I did nothing! Ya hear!” he yelled again.

Sorrow took a single step towards the tavern keeper but he slashed out with steel.

That rebounded. Bounced off whatever passed for flesh beneath the black shroud.

“Cursed, demon elven gods! I didn’t kill her!” he cried once more before attacking.

But the blows bounced off once again. This time Sorrow reached out and grabbed the blade in one hand and ripped it from the half masked man.

The man yelped as the other hand rose and knocked off his mask revealing all of the barkeep’s worn, terrified, scratched face. He had several scratches by his eyes, which were concealed by the mask he wore.

The touch of the frozen hand of Sorrow caused him to leap out of the way and over to the fire. Her grabbed the hot iron poker from the dying embers and brandished it like a sword.

Still Sorrow advanced slowly.

The tavern keeper lashed out with the glowing poker. It connected with Sorrow causing a dull thud.

Nothing seemed to even affect it till the hot poker caught the robes on fire, then it only warranted a brief look down.

Sorrow took another step forward. It continued advancing, unceasing.

Until the tavern keeper struck with the heavy iron rod, right in the mask of Sorrow.

Two blows in quick succession and Sorrow stopped moving. The stone mask cracked. Heavy cracks like scars spread across the mask.

The tavern keeper laughed and smashed the iron into the mask once more, deepening the cracks and wounds.

A dark, thick red substance started to pour from the mask and a sound like rocks groaning before being split under pressure escaped Sorrow.

Another attack came from the over confident tavern owner. He tried to strike the figure with the bleeding stone mask, but Sorrow’s hand intercepted his own.

The hand was heavy and strong and it squeezed and the small bones in the attacker’s hands snapped loudly.

Sorrow took the weapon from the man and threw it into the bar, shattering liquor bottles and catching it on fire.

“Oh shit,” he swore.

The blood was pouring out of the cracks in the mask. Sorrow reached up and removed the wounded mask, dropping it heavily on the ground, then removed the burning, smoldering clothing.

Before the tavern keeper stood an ethereal beauty.

An elf, naked, pale skin looking exactly like porcelain stone. But the stonework was so perfect, so smooth, it looked like flesh transmuted or, perhaps, silk made stone.

Slowly, with all the ease of chiseling stone, Sorrow’s face turned from one of neutral interest to one of abject rage.

The figure raised its hands and advanced upon the innkeeper.

Sorrow didn’t stop until the murderer’s face matched the Sorrowful expression on the mask it wore.

A little while later Sorrow knocked once on the door of the residence that once belonged to Silah.

The father was passed out in his bed. The twins were up in a moment, the little one rising a little slower.

Sorrow entered the cabin, shrouded in black with the sad, broken expression on the mask it wore.

“It is done,” wheezed the voice behind the mask.

It held out a hand towards the youngest girl.

She nodded solemnly and turned back into the bedroom.

A moment later the girl returned and placed a well worn, much loved stuffed bear into Sorrow’s waiting hand.

“Thank you,” the girl said. “Take care of him. His name is Bubbles and he needs lots of hugs.”

Sorrow’s hand disappeared with the bear back inside the robes, then it turned and left without another word.

Once outside Sorrow’s mask turned towards the smoldering tavern fire. Heron was watching, forlorn and sad. Another missed opportunity.

Sorrow stood in the dark, watching the light for some time until the rain had stopped.

Then, as dawn was breaking, moved on.

In a little network of roads beneath a great tree, in a small area that formed a little cave Sorrow built itself a little fire, hung up the cloak and mask beside it.

It sat down, orange flames dancing across the pale porcelain skin that was gently reflecting it back. Then, very carefully, like it was reaching for a holy object, Sorrow grabbed the stuffed bear. In the dim firelight Sorrow examined the bear, almost as if it was trying to remember the object’s significance.

After several seconds the stone lips parted and Sorrow said in a rough, cracked voice becoming a being of stone, “You need lots of hugs.”

Then gently embraced the bear like Sorrow was once a small child with an animal.

#stone face sorrow #fantasy fiction #one off #death and other epilogues #my fiction #writeblr #original fiction

[kirain]

I want to take a moment to talk about Gale's "obsession" with Mystra, because I've had that thrown at me a lot when discussing his character with players who hate him.

First off, I'd like to emphasize a point that many people already know: Mystra groomed him. Though his exact age when she "slept" with him isn't known, a new document that's been supplied in the epilogue confirms he was merely "eight summers" old when she took him under her wing and sent Elminster to find him. Mystra, in fact, has a vast history of grooming little boys, to the point that many parents hide their sons from her gaze if they show an early aptitude for magic. Though Gale did have other lovers before her, Mystra was really all he knew throughout his childhood, and the power dynamic was not equal. It makes sense that he'd have trouble pulling away from her at first, especially since she convinced him that she/the Weave were his only value in life.

Second, I want to discuss something most players probably aren't aware of. In D&D lore, there's a place called the City of Judgement. This is essentially D&D limbo, where all mortal souls go to be judged after death. Bad news for atheists, if you don't believe in or worship any gods, you're known as a "faithless", and since no gods will grant a faithless entry into their domain, your soul becomes part of the Wall of the Faithless.

In short, a faithless' soul will be sucked into the wall, where it will guard the city and suffer endless torment for all eternity. This fate isn't only reserved for faithless, however; it's also a punishment for fallen Chosen or anyone who's been abandoned by their gods. Like Gale. He's absolutely terrified, and he tells you as much if you romance him. If you keep things platonic, he alludes to it during the "go to hell" scene. This is compounded by the fact that raiding demons sometimes attack the City of Judgement, tear souls from the wall, and drag them to the Abyss, where they're used to spawn new low-level demons or to feed their masters. There's no good ending, whether a soul remains trapped in the wall or not.

Gale doesn't explicitly say it, but he's contemplating his own death here, as he probably did the entire time he was locked away in his tower. This is why he's so quick to agree to kill himself for Mystra's forgiveness. It's not because he's "obsessed" with her or because he wants her back, it's because he'll literally go to hell if he can't convince her he's worthy of her twisted sense of forgiveness. By the time we meet Gale, he's honestly over Mystra in all romantic sense, and even more so by Act 2, whether you romance him or not. He's simply...

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 tav #tav #larian studios #elminster #all my homies hate mystra #dnd #d&d #astarion #lae'zel #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #karlach #mystra

[lookingatyouwriter]

I finally watched The Old Guard and tumblr did not adequately prepare me for how funny the van kiss scene actually is. Like I've seen whole gif sets of Joe's impromptu love poem but that's not the half of it.

Dude are you sure you want to be making a homophobic jab at these people specifically

Joe: "Yeah he is and what about it, bitch boy" <- said with far more grace and eloquence

Nicky: "<3"

(This is where we give kudos to the actors for not smashing each other's teeth in when LAUNCHING at each other. Couldn't have been me)

Everyone is so taken aback they fully just watch for a whole second in, presumably, homophobic horror before all simultaneously deciding This Cannot Stand

you INTERRUPT joe and nicky? you interrupt their kiss like the football game? oh! oh! death for homophobes! death for homophobes for One Thousand Years!!!!

This isn't really part of the scene but "There's a TV, Joe!" is close enough that I'm going to add it. As an epilogue.

#the old guard #I feel I said homophobe too often. but them getting theirs is a significant part of the fun though

[skreehaw]

rip to the dnd romances that never happened

#me :handshake: the monk's player #considering a romance w someone elses character but decided against it (my case)/the other character died first (his case) #+ the bard is dead so also the other character diedd #there goes bard+my sorcerer being roommates for the rest of their lives in the epilogue #also #what brought my sorcerer all the way to the north being his mentors accidental death (important person to him) #and now his best friend is dead and he doesnt even KNOW IT YET

[the-song-of-avernus]

It's fascinating how even though you don't always hear about \ anyone other than Astarion, every origin companion in BG3 has an endgame/epilogue state that is either outright bad for them or at the very least "not as good as they deserve".

Obvious there have been books and 100,000 pages of fic and discourse written about Ascended Astarion. In the moments when he almost acts like his old self, even then it's merely humoring you with a whim.

Mother Superior DJ Shadowheart flat out admits to severe empathy for what Viconia went through, and has fully closed herself off from any sense of attachment or feeling other than Nocturne and Tav. Her continued need to find carve-outs and exceptions and loopholes parallels Viconia's own eventual disagreements with Shar. And as we know, Shar will eventually betray or abandon her if Shadowheart doesn't betray her first. It's the story of every devout Sharran we meet.

Gale, the God is a smug arrogant hubris-ridden asshole that's even mean to Tara in the epilogue. Nearly every single sentiment he expressed about why he wanted the Crown and to ascend is immediately inverted. Of course he's not going to interfere. He's a figure of aspiration. Once he received power himself he immediately forgot and forsook everyone and everything about why he wanted it in the first place. A romanced God Gale is SLIGHTLY more grounded but that's mostly just because you ground him. And if you ascend with him, that ends that.

Lae'zel's return to Vlaakith results in her ascension, which leads to her missing the party and being very dead. The things that Lae'zel claimed to value will never truly be as long as Vlaakith rules, and her not escaping and falling back into her people's death cult robs her of the ability to create a new Gith, a better Gith.

Karlach is dead, or almost as bad, a Mind Flayer. And while most of her initial personality remains, by six months in she's already grown emotionally distant and her personality is clearly and evidently being slowly overridden by the brains of the dying she consumes. She's forsaken the embrace of death for the guise of eternal continuation in her. And even surrounded by the ten people who should mean the most in the world to her, all she mostly thinks about is others' perceptions of her (ala the Emperor) and the fact that she's hungry. Mind Flayer Karlach even notes that she used to think becoming a Mind Flayer would be the worst thing ever, but now she likes it. Shades of the Emperor x1000 and a clear sign that the Karlach we know and love is rapidly becoming a memory.

and then there's Grand Duke Wyll. On the surface, it appears the happiest of the "bad" endings, but pay attention. Note how he discusses wheeling and dealing and making agreements with patriars. (How well has contracts and deals worked out for you in the past?) Oh, and in certain conditions including romance, Wyll will offer you the chance to become a Grand Duke as well - with the others being his father (Ravengard #3) and Florrick (Wyll/Ulder's longest lasting family friend). That's not a government of the people for the people. When the power is tied up by a husband, spouse, his father, and their most trusted advisor, that's the makings of a monarchy or oligarchy. Of the type of patriar power-claim to last for generations, something Wyll himself once mocked. Oh, and if you adopt a child, then you get into the worst part of it all: Wyll's been busy running a city, and oh hey, instead of y'all bringing YOUR FOUR MONTH OLD DAUGHTER with you, hey, she'll be cool being watched by the Ilmater temple for a night right? Sorry, Wyll, were you saying something a few months ago about distant parenting? Yikes.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #wyll ravengard #wyll #astarion #ascended astarion #god gale #gale the god #karlach #mind flayer karlach #mindflayer karlach #tara #lae'zel #lae'zel bg3 #bg3 epilogue #bg3 ending #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 #tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate iii #ulder ravengard #shadowheart #mother superior shadowheart #shart #bg3 shart

[workingwhileidream]

Okay Burrow's End had me thinking some thoughts... So here are my favorite Dimension 20 moments that rotate like a rotisserie chicken in my brain (in no particular order other than the order I thought if them).

- Riz goes into the butthole of the Corn Ooze Monster (Fantasy High). The first absolutely insane shenanigans move anyone makes on D20, setting the tone the show will have forever.

- Raphaniel kills Queen Pamelia (Ravening War). I think I saw Brennan's soul leave his body briefly when he got that How Do You Want To Do This from Matt. Time was an absolute flat circle that day.

- Hank convinces Brennan to let him role savvy instead of sneak (Mentopolis). Hank is one of the most famous content creators, having him on the show was phenomenal to begin with. Then right out of the gate, he pulls this move in his first episode. And it just works. Hilarious, instantly iconic.

- Jet Dies (A Crown of Candy). When Lapin dies, it is shocking but I wasn't attached to him as a character. Lapin was a bit antagonistic and his death happens early in the season. On the other hand, Jet is instantly likeable. Emily and Siobhan are amazing as siblings, their performances this campaign are some of my favorites. I have siblings and I am very close to them, so this hit me like a ton of bricks.

- The entire epilogue of Burrow's End. "Are you pitching and Air Bud ending?" is one of the instant hall of fame quotes from this show. I started crying I was laughing so hard.

- Ylfa's bottleneck and the TPK (Neverafter). There are so many close calls for total party kills in Dimension 20 history, but this is where it finally happens and it's only 3 episodes in. I was on edge, expecting another TPK at any turn, for the rest of the campaign.

- 3 nat one initiative rolls for the battle that literally opens the season (A Starstruck Odyssey). The beginning of a new season is always full of excitement. This season was extra special, having everyone back in the dome after the pandemic and the season being based off Brennan's Mom's comics. The zoom energy is still in the air and I still think about this season opener a lot.

- Mother Timothy Goose breaks Snow White's concentration with a cantrip (Neverafter). Only Ally Beardsley could and we all damn well know it. Still didn't stop me from being so far in disbelief that all I could do is laugh.

- Hob's "You will never know another lonely day" speech to Rue (A Court of Fey and Flowers). I will still cry about this if I think about it for too long. Rue and Hob's romance is the heart of this season to me. I won't be over it ever.

- Gertrude convinces Nyruth to give the Questing Queens very powerful boons after the Queens tried to rob them only a few hours earlier (Dungeons and Drag Queens). The fact that this season exists drives a level of serotonin into my brain that is unimaginable. This is the definition of a big swing and when Bob rolls well, Brennan has no other choice than to honor it. This is one of the moments I have made a meme of. I cannot wait for season 2.

- Wuuvy shows up to the duel and she did not come to play (A Court of Fey and Flowers). Aabria has talked about how Wuuvy is one of her favorite NPCs and I feel the same. Wuuvy and Rue's relationship has such a great arc and this moment is so pivotal.

- Fabian's no good very bad day (Fantasy High Sophomore Year). An iconic moment in D20 history that was truly wild to watch live. For everything to go so fantastically bad for Fabian and Lou was unprecedented. There is a reason why people still talk about this moment to this day.

- Amathar survives being pushed off the castle (A Crown of Candy). Brennan tried to kill Lou so many times in this campaign. I really thought Brennan had gotten him with this one, my stomach sunk. But Lou pulls it out and Amathar lives once again.

- Pib plays "Smoke on the Water" (Neverafter). "I stepped out to play 'Smoke on the Water' " is also a hall of fame quote to me. This list could be all Pib moments if I'm being honest, he's my favorite Zac character. And the fact that Zac doesn't roll well makes this moment funnier to me.

- Buddy Bear gets planted with the All Blossom (Dungeons and Drag Queens). Jujubee and Brennan owe me a therapy session for this one. I sobbed. My cat is my baby and I will be ruined the day she leaves me, so I get it. I really do.

- "Eat your dice, Brennan" (Fantasy High Sophomore Year). A great bit made physically possible by Siobhan. I hope Siobhan gives him gummy dice or something like that so that Brennan can continue to eat his dice for Junior Year.

- Orange Top Hat Fairy (Neverafter). It's a horror season and the cast is doing bits about how hot a mini is the entire finale and the Adventuring Party that followed. I felt the stress and off the walls energy through the screen. The Smooth Criminal pin was the first piece of Dimension 20 merch I bought.

- Viola's epic takedown of Phoebe (Burrow's End). Watching Rashawn absolutely crush it her first time in the dome was amazing. I loved Viola from the jump, her arc was so satisfying and fun to watch. Also the idea of a tiny stoat kicking a gun just the right way to get it to fire is hilarious. No notes other than please have Rashawn come back on every season she possibly can.

- Evan Kelmp warns the Rosemont student not to duel him (Misfits and Magic). Brennan's deadpan warning matched with the reactions of the other players and Aabria really make this scene. An underrated Brennan moment for sure.

- Stacey Fakename turns out to be real (Mentopolis). This was such a good reoccurring bit, so to have Stacey be real at the end of the story was too funny. In a season of bits, tropes, and puns - this one has the most payoff to me and is definitely my favorite.

#dimension 20 #d20 #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 spoilers #dungeons and drag queens #fantasy high #fantasy high sophomore year #the ravening war #mentopolis #misfits and magic #a crown of candy #burrow's end #neverafter #a starstruck odyssey #a court of fey and flowers

[stormhearty]

Pushed to the Edge

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Trigger: angst, cheating, suicide, death

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You were the official seer of Night Court for nearly 500 years. the Inner Circle had always listened to you and your visions; however, when the Archeron sisters came and Elain started to show her powers, your family started to shift their attention to her visions. When you try to voice your warnings about the death-lord’s resurrection, everyone gave you the cold shoulder, ignoring your prophesies — this included your mate.

Note: no hate to Azriel or Elain, it just helped with the plot. and Also, I know it's completely unreasonable for Azriel to not have the Truth-Teller be with him at all times, just go with it for now. And I am working on “Reach Your Voice” Series, I’m still trying to figure out how to make sure each of our boys spends quality time with the reader.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“That sounds absolutely absurd… How many times will you try to warn about something that will never happen?”

Your voiced died in your throat as you watched Rhysand look at you with apprehension before focusing on the paperwork in front of him.

You had ran into his office, waking up in cold sweat after another vision of another Death God crawling it’s way back into Prythian. You had tried to forewarn your High Lord for weeks on end ever since you first saw that vision. However, your warnings had been ignored by Rhysand. You knew that it sounded impossible, you knew that, Prythian had just finished a war — one that almost destroyed the world.

After the war with the King of Hybern, Prythian was slowly returning to its normal … well, attempting to fix what was broken by the King. The Night Court was healing, trying to rebuild itself again to its glory, helping other Courts to fix the damages that the war caused. Rhysand had been through an ordeal, losing his life to save Prythian and you knew that your High Lord was still recuperating from that tragedy. You knew that your High Lady was as well, almost losing her mate.

They didn’t need another war to happen when peace had barely returned.

But you also knew there was another reason your High Lord had been ignoring your for forewarning. You looked to the side, one where the rest of the Inner Circle was watching the confrontation. Cassian and Nesta, sitting close to each other, a glass of wine in their hands, whispering to each other, mostly likely about you and your vision. You could barely pick up with your keen Fae hearing on what they were saying.

“Do you think what she’s saying is real? That Koschei is trying to come back?”

“Elain hasn’t seen it though…”

The whisper of the middle Archeron child echoed in your ears as you looked at the Made Fae. She sat next to the window, brown eyes that seemed to sparkle like the sun rested on you before turning over to the male that she was sitting with. Your gaze followed hers to Azriel — your mate— but you can see that he didn’t bother to glance in your direction, only to focus on the delicate female next to him.

It hurt. You watched as the two of them conversed, glancing back in your direction before focusing on each other.

It was no secret, not for you, on Elain’s growing infatuation for the Shadowsinger, and in turn his own growing affections for the middle Archeron child — and in turn, losing his love for you.

You woke up in an empty bed, your mate missing from his side. You tried to talk to Cassian about how his day went, on if he would still train you with the Valkyries if he had time. You tried to converse with Rhysand and Feyre, seeing if they were healing properly after the war, wanting to make sure your High Lord and Lady were safe. You sought after you mate, wanting to spend even a second with him.

But they disregarded you so easily. Especially after they had found out that Elain had similar powers to you, one that was gifted to her by the Cauldron — one that was deemed more powerful than your own.

Your role as the Official Seer of Night Court was granted to you after Helion had sent you as an emissary for Day Court. Helion had found you wandering around Day Court lands. You had been a wandering child, with no real attachment to any Court, abandoned in the streets by your family at the age of five when your seer powers started to come into light. Helion had taken you in when you were ten, helped you hone your powers. Being a seer had been a mystery, no one in your heritage (that you were aware of) was a seer. And it baffled Helion on why such a remarkable gift had been casted aside.

You had stayed with the Night Court, gaining their trust and friendship for five centuries, gaining your own little foothold in their family. You had been a pillar when Rhysand had been trapped Under the Mountain for nearly fifty years. You helped Mor and Armen with the official Night Court Duties, trained with Cassian to ensure you were strong enough to fight when neither he nor Azriel was there.

During your time protecting Valeris from the eyes of Amarantha, your mating bond with the Shadowsinger snapped. It had been difficult at the start, both of you were still struggling with the disappearance of your High Lord, along with the weight of protecting the very city he hidden from view. But during that time, you became each other’s pillar, each other’s comfort in such a dark time. Falling in love with Azriel wasn’t difficult.

But keeping his love, apparently, was the most difficult.

When the Archeron sister’s came into everyone’s lives, it caused a tip in the scales. You loved Feyre, you loved your High Lady. You would do anything in your power to ensure she was safe and well cared for. But for the Cauldron-Made sisters, it was difficult for you to accept them.

They were different. You couldn’t see anything about them, as if the Cauldron had masked them from you powers. It made you terrified of them. Feyre and Rhysand had tried to assure you that the Archeron sisters deemed no threat to the Night Court. And you trusted them — trusted your High Lord and Lady without a blink of an eye. And yes, while their words deemed true, you did not realize that they were a different type of threat. One that would eventually lose your foothold in the Night Court.

You swallowed, your throat parched as you glanced from the sight of your mate and Elain speaking to one another to Rhysand and then to Feyre who had stood next to him. She gave you a worried look, wondering what you were wanting to tell them.

The air was tense, the declaration from your High Lord seeming to echo in your surroundings — he had deemed your vision to be false. And he had never done that before.

“… But…” you whispered, your voice nothing but wind in such a large room, “… I’ve seen it so many times, Rhys. Someone is trying to resurrect him. That they need a piece of something from the Cauldron — -”

“The Cauldron is with Miryam and Drakon… in Creta. There is no way that anyone would be able to use that power again,” Rhysand’s tone was taut, as if trying to drawn a line between the truth and your vision, “Your vision must be wrong, (Y/N). There is no way that Koschei can be resurrected from that lake.”

Another swallow, “But what if it doesn’t have to be the Cauldron itself. It could be something that was Made from the Cauldron.”

Rhysand’s eyes snapped up from his desk, up to you, eyes darkening at the words you were insinuating, “—- What are you trying to say, (Y/N)?”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes shifting down to your hands, fiddling with your fingernails — a habit that you’ve had ever since you were a child — one that would leave your hands raw from removing skin, ‘… Nesta and Elain were Made from the Cauldron. If it were to get word to the followers of Koschei, they… they could be in danger. The power that resides in them is the Cauldron… Nesta took something from the Cauldron and did not return it… They could be looking for that.”

It was already bad that you were trying to suggest a return of a Death God, months after a war with Hybern, but it was worse that you were even implying that the sisters were the center of being in danger again.

A dark shadow stood in front of you and you looked up to see Azriel. The golden string that connected the two of you sung, it had been weeks since Azriel went near you, but you knew that his side of the bond was shut, enshroud by shadows, completely shutting you out.

“Az—-” you said his name, as if it was a prayer, hoping he’d be the voice of reason. That he would back up you and your visions. As he always had in the past.

“How can we know that your visions are truth, (Y/N)? There are two Seers in the Night Court now, and yet you are the only one who sees this.”

Your ears rang, a high pitch noise echoing through them as disbelief shook your body. Azriel never distrusted you, never doubted your visions and your forewarnings.

The bond in you ached, as if it was burning you on the inside. Tears lined your eyes as you looked up at your mate, brows furrowing, “…How could you, Azriel?” you muttered, the pain lining your tone, “How can you not trust me?” your voice small.

“Because Elain hasn’t seen it,” was all he had to say.

Hot tears ran your cheeks, as you shakily stepped back from the male that had towered you. You glanced at Cassian and Nesta who looked at you, their eyes inattentive to the pain that you were feeling. You glanced at your High Lord, who looked at you with disinterest. You looked at your High Lady, the only person in the room that seemed to have noticed your pain and anguish, as she took a step towards you way, only to be stopped by Rhysand, his hand around her wrist.

“… So, just because the Cauldron-Made Seer hasn’t seen it, doesn’t mean that it is going to happen?” you asked, your question in the air for everyone to think, “… Just because I wasn’t a Seer Made by the Cauldron, that my visions and my words are not real? That I am a lesser of a Seer than her?”

“(Y/N)—-” Feyre, the voice of reason, called our your name.

You took a step back again, head shaking at them, “I’ve worked my life off for the Night Court. Ensuring that your city is safe, making sure that any danger would never step past the wards that you have put up. I have never hidden anything from any of you. I used my visions and my powers for all of you. And yet…” your voice shook at the end, not believing anything that was happening in front of you, “You disregard me… the moment a better Seer shows up. One that is Cauldron-Made… one that you…” eyes shifting to Azriel, “Deems more suitable for you.

“I’ve seen it. Not only in my visions but here with you all. You have decided to all turn a blind eye to it, decided not to tell me about it. Three sisters for three brothers, isn’t it, Azriel?”

Azriel’s form stiffed in front of you — he did not think that you would have heard that.

You were done, you were tired. You were tired of the lies and the deceit from whom you thought were family.

Feyre’s brows furrowed as she looked at you and then her elder sisters before the back of Azriel. Rhysand stood up as well, standing next to his High Lady at your declaration.

“… What are you talking about, (Y/N)?” Feyre asked, watching your form shake.

“Don’t you lie to me…” you muttered, glaring at your High Lady, “Don’t you dare lie that you have not seen it. Don’t you dare tell me that you have not noticed that Azriel and Elain have been together all this time. That you have turned a blind eye that a mated male would be infatuated, would fall in love with someone else that was not his Cauldron-bound mate. Don’t you dare lie to me you have not all seen it, and have ignored it and not tell me about it.

“You also have all disregarded me and my visions, ever since Elain started to show her own powers. You have all deemed, even without you telling me, that my powers are not worthy enough. That you all would listen to her cryptic visions rather than my own.”

Your words were rushed, you were hyperventilating to the point that your visions swam, but you shook your head, focusing on the scene unfolding — Feyre’s surprised look, Nesta and Cassian staring wide-eye at Elain before glancing at the Shadowsinger in front of you and your High Lord gripping the edge of the table, his violet eyes clearing as if he was in a trance, as if his mind has been cleared and he realized what he has done and what was unfolding with his family.

“No, (Y/N), that’s not what we meant…” he tried to reason, try to gain back your trust in the found family you had with them.

You scrunched your face, shaking your head as you looked at your High Lord before back at your mate, “…That’s what you have meant for the months you have been ignoring my forewarnings. Been ignoring me. Because Elain’s powers are better than mine, you have casted me aside…” Another step back, glancing at the grand door behind you before you glanced back at the family who had lost you, to the mate that had broken your entire being, “You had decided, to your own conscious, to fall in love with someone else, who is bound to someone else, just because you deemed that the Cauldron was wrong. I don’t understand what I have done to you, Azriel… when I have spent nearly five-hundred years with you, fifty years with you as your mate. And you, knowing Elain for a mere five minutes, throwing all that away…”

Azriel looked at you, his chest rising and falling quickly, his eyes staring you down. He watched as tears continued to flood down your cheeks, your form shaking even further. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t just stand here and be the object that they throw away.

So, you ran, ran out of that room, your name echoing behind you as your dress swirled behind you. You climbed up the spiraling stairs to your shared room with Azriel, throwing up the strongest ward you can muster behind you and around you. You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the echo of the bond in your chest, you couldn’t handle the empty stare of your mated looking at you. You couldn’t handle the thought that you were so easily replaceable. A sob escaped your lips as you rummaged through Azriel’s drawer of weapons, pulling out the one weapon that he never is without — Truth-Teller. Dark tendrils of shadow gripped your wrist as you looked around you, Azriel’s shadows surrounding you.

That was where his shadows went — they had always disappeared when he was around Elain, yet they were here with you.

Frantic knocks startled you as you grasped the weapon close to your chest, your head whipping around towards the door. You heard them — Feyre’s panicked voice, Rhysand’s apologizes, Cassian yelling your name. But you didn’t hear that one voice that you had loved — you knew Azriel wasn’t there.

That had pushed you. Gripping the weapon, you moved to the bathroom, the shadows following your every movement. As you kneeled down on the marble floor, you felt the tug of the shadows against your hand, trying to will the weapon out of your grip — attempting you to stop at a take of your life.

You had always loved the shadows that surrounded Azriel, both physically and metaphorically speaking. They had always comforted you, protected you, always had been there for both of you when times were tough. But this was one of the times that you didn’t want them protecting you, comforting you.

“Please..” you begged at them. Whether or not they would listen or sprint off to their master, they backed off, though a few tendrils stayed behind, slithering around your wrist, holding Truth-Teller, as if a reminder not to do it. But you had made your mind — you couldn’t stay and be pushed to the side. Not anymore.

And with a last breath impaled yourself with your mate’s beloved knife, the very knife he had handed Elain during the war, was the last thing you remembered. As your body fell against the marbled floor, your soul leaving your body, you felt the tendrils of shadow frantically skim over your body, as if to try to find a piece of life still clinging onto you. Eyes looked and watched as the ward was broken and your High Lord and Lady skidding towards your body as your soul left for the skies above, the cool feeling of shadow never leaving your body.

A gasp escaped your lips, the dull ache on your chest making you rub at it.

“— - What…” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as if not used for a century.

“That Shadowsinger did not know what he had decided to let go, huh…” A voice, one so dark and so familiar echoing.

You knew that voice, that voice that haunted you in your visions for weeks — the same voice that you tried to warn your family about. Eyes opening, you were surrounded by the dark, the voice of the Death-God echoing around you.

“I should have died…” you voiced to no-one.

A laugh echoed around you, “You did, (Y/N), but you forget that I am a Death-God… And I can resurrect anyone I wish. Now, that your family has abandoned you, why don’t you join me. Show them what happens when a Seer of your capacity has been cast aside. I should have had you when that original family of yours stranded you, but that damn High Lord of Day found you first. Anyway… come child…”

You laid there, in the darkness, before you shakily reach out a hand, before spiny fingers grasped onto yours and pulled you out of that darkness.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar angst #a court of thorns and roses #( .one shot : pushed to the edge )