#Briarwood veil

[princesskuragina]

The problem with you people is you can't let an evil sexy codependent couple stay evil. "That relationship is unhealthy" okay? If I go on the tag for the Sadistic Child-Murdering Vampire Lord/Cartoon Villain Necromancer Wife I better not see fluffy kidfic where they vow to break the cycle

[waddles-ex-machina]

currently trawling through some of the hilda crew’s posts for art refs but that’s not important I just need y’all to know that the original design for abigail absolutely slaps

(btw the committee witches were designed mainly by victoria evans! link to her designs here)

[utilitycaster]

Apologies, but can you elaborate on what you meant with

"As of late, the banner of those wronged by the gods has shifted from any of Bells Hells to those of Aeor, and that is a bad sign in a D&D campaign. If you need to set aside the PCs in order to rely on NPCs who have not shown up in the current narrative? You are clinging to a melting iceberg, my man."

Sure, so...among the people who are advocating that the Only Good And True Solution is for Bells Hells to kill the gods (a position that has already required frantic backpedaling from "what if the Vanguard is good" due to the murders), the poster children for "those wronged by the gods" are now "the people of Aeor."

Now. I do not deny that the gods destroyed Aeor. I think if you are holding the gods to the standard of "They should have prevented Calamity", and the two things they've banded together about have specifically been "stop Predathos" and "destroy Aeor" and Aeorians were creating a god-killing weapon the plans of which are being used now in the Predathos plot, I think it's worth considering whether you believe that self-defense is inherently unjust if your reason is "but i really wanna fucking kill them" but that's a whole other discussion.

The point at hand is that as a rule, in a D&D game, the enemies of your D&D party are, uh, going to be the enemies in the story. And so:

Chetney: wronged by some random werewolf and by a dude named Drixlitch; killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general

Laudna: wronged by and killed by Delilah Briarwood; killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general

FCG: arguably, made to be an unwitting killing machine by Aeor. Sacrificed himself when the unwitting killing machine abilities took over, depriving a nearly TPK-ed party of their healer; took themself out to kill the Vanguard general (Otohan) that was going to kill all of them.

Fearne: specifically designed to be Ruidusborn by Zathuda, working with the Vanguard; Zathuda's relationship with her mother has some really worrying veiled portions re: how consensual it all was while we're at it. Killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general

Imogen: Honestly Predathos's relationship with the Ruidusborn seems rather predatory and manipulative but that's another conversation; abandoned by and generally treated like a morality pet by her mother, a Vanguard general. Otohan would have killed her too, regardless of her Ruidusborn status.

Orym: Father and husband permanently killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general. Killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general.

Ashton: nearly blown up/sent to a faraway desert and orphaned by elemental titan-worshiping parents; nearly killed by magic possessed by or committed by Jiana Hexum, who was at minimum collaborating with the Ruby Vanguard on imports.

In case you noticed, unless you hold the gods accountable for all bad things happening...none of them have been wronged by the gods. They have, at best, been ignored by the gods (which was earlier on an argument against the gods but people gave that up, on account of it being dumb as dogshit stupid). On the other hand, man, sure feels like that Ruby Vanguard did a whole bunch of killing. If you have to ask the viewers to ignore the feelings of the main PCs in favor of the [dead, can't disagree with you although uh, FCG sure did] people of Aeor*...you have, quite literally, lost the plot.

*You know what's interesting? There's people stuck in stasis bubbles in Aeor, and there's a growing number of Aeormatons, too. If the issue is "Aeor was an incalculable loss" why is your focus "we should plunder the Malleus Factorum - something that was controversial and caused massive unrest within Aeor itself even it its time - and awaken the god-eater, which had long been sealed by the time of Aeor" and not "holy shit we could seek out and interview and assist the Aeormatons and revive a bunch of Aeorians!" If your issue with the Calamity was "there was an incalculable loss of life" why is your solution "create a murder cult"? If your issue with Vasselheim is "they are hiding crucial information about Ruidus and they are colonizing small towns in central Issylra" why is your murder cult murdering all the moon researchers who also worked against Vasselheim and why are you allying with the empire that took over the entire moon and wants to do the same to Exandria? If the issue is "the gods have too much power and use the power of others" why is Predathos any different, and frankly, Ludinus looks pretty fucking fishy too.

[ceciasa]

Disney Twisted Wonderland - Malleus Draconia X Briarwood Veil

Looking for Romance

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[ratinayellowbandana]

Hi!! I love your fics so much, and was hoping you could possibly do these prompts (or combine them!):

Hug

&

"You're safe here, I promise."

Thank you!! And no stress if you don't do this particular prompt, I'm just happy to read anything you write ❤️

ok so.. this ask if from September, but we're going to ignore that because I finally got around to filling it (with a slight variation). so thanks so much for your patience on that one. tossing my ep. 78 brainrot into the ring with everyone else's. here's a canon-divergent take on laudna bolting after the ziggurat and recounting old memories.

what if she retreated to the old laboratory instead of the woods?

cw: mentions of torture (canonical)

length: 1431 words

also on ao3

~~~

“Laudna, sweetheart?”

Imogen’s voice is a distant echo, resounding off the stone walls that warp and twist her words. She cannot see Imogen, cannot let Imogen see her. The veil that creeps over her face flickers in and out of existence, the phantom pressure of the choker heavy around her throat. Laudna bites back a low whine in the darkness. Shadows congeal around her feet, cloaking her from Imogen’s searching eyes. 

“Are you in here?” The question fades into heavy silence. The broken bookshelves and shattered vials give her no reply. 

Imogen had known just where to look, her clever girl. Laudna’s feet, guided by Delilah’s sweet whispers, had returned her unbidden to the laboratory. The scent of dried blood lingers in the groutwork. The metal table lies on its side, overturned during their spat with the castle’s vengeful spirits, its shackles dangling loose.

Laudna curls against the furthest wall, her form lengthening, cracking, shifting into something more. The thrumming in her chest urges her to lash out with cruel talons and jagged teeth. To tear and shred and protect until no one would dare cross her again. To snarl and fight until she is left alone once more.  

Her mama always said she was too trusting. Too gullible. It would get her into trouble. Trusting the wrong people. Lady Briarwood had been welcoming, so accommodating in her beautiful castle. She had seen something special in the farmgirl from the outskirts of the Parchwood. Her invitation had been a gift from the gods. The promise of private tutelage lured a girl below the city.  

Flashes of memory, scattered as fallen leaves, reveal racks of knives beside the door. The bite of iron into famine-thinned wrists. A throat screamed raw. Lady Briarwood’s traitorous sneer. 

“Laudna?”

The tunnels promised safety. It was easy to lose herself among the twists and turns. Carving a nook for herself was simple enough. A few well-placed crates disguised a forgotten passageway. She snuck up to the castle kitchens for castaway scraps. Pupils grew accustomed to the dark. Discarded trash became the foundation of her odd collection of possessions. Chipped bottles and forgotten tokens decorated her first home. 

They searched below the city for any traces of the Briarwoods’ nefarious projects. Laudna was flushed out of hiding when an unsuspecting guard stumbled across her enclave. 

Laudna?

The sting of betrayal sits fresh on her tongue. 

The spell is workin’, so you gotta be close. 

Her fingers stretch and claw at her hair. The fear of waking up alone again. A bed of moss tucked into broad tree roots. 

She wants to bite and mangle and–

Everyone leaves. True colors will show; it’s only a matter of time. They’ll learn what she is. They always do. 

Please don’t run from me.

Purple light dances overhead, casting Imogen in a familiar glow. 

“Where are you?” 

Laudna hunches into herself, a growl bubbling in her chest. 

“Stay away,” she spits, hating the way the words fall at her feet.

Imogen turns in the direction of her voice, eyes flitting over the swath of shadow hiding Laudna’s quivering shape. 

“If you really want me to go, I’ll go,” she says simply, ignoring the high notes of fear in Laudna’s voice. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“You won’t.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

“But I know you.” Imogen sighs, says softly, “Will you let me see you?” 

“Her influence is stronger here,” Laudna rasps. 

Imogen stiffens. “That’s alright. We’ll fight her off together if we have to.” Laudna doesn’t miss the barely concealed rage hidden beneath a layer of steely nonchalance Laudna suspects isn’t solely for her benefit. 

“She wants me to kill him and take the shard.” 

“She can’t have it.” 

“She needs it,” Laudna whispers, “and I’m afraid of what she’ll do to get her way.” She drops the shroud of darkness. “She always gets her way.” A broken sob tears from her throat. 

Imogen rushes forward, stopping short two paces away. “Oh, honey, can I–” she reaches out her hand, and Laudna nods. Imogen collapses at her side, taking Laudna into her arms. Laudna clings to her, trembling in the warm glow of Imogen’s lights. 

“I hate it here,” Laudna rushes. “I hate this city, I hate this fucking castle, I hate the gods-damned moon.” It bursts out of her in a wave as Imogen caresses her hair with gentle, practiced hands. “I hate Ashton,” she confesses through a choked cry, “I hate them, Imogen. Why would he betray us?” 

“‘Cause he’s a dumbass,” Imogen replies. “A dumbass who doesn’t think about the consequences of their actions and hurts everyone around them ‘cause he thinks we don’t care.” 

“He hurt Fearne. And he hurt you, and he hurt me–”

“Yeah, they did. And I’m fuckin’ pissed at ‘em ‘cause of it, but I don’t hate him.” She sounds weary and world-worn. 

Silence falls between them, save the dripping of a distant pipe.

Laudna speaks quietly. “She– she tortured me here, you know?” She feels Imogen tense beneath her, her hand faltering its steady course through Laudna’s hair before recovering once more. “I don’t… I don’t remember most of it. Probably for the best, really. Awful business, torture. I’ve heard it’s terribly messy.” Imogen isn’t smiling, and Laudna drops her attempt at lightheartedness. “I’m sorry. I don’t– I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Being in this room, I suppose–”

“In this room?” Imogen realizes, horrified. Her head swivels, taking in the overturned table, the broken beakers, the discoloration of the floor. “I didn’t realize– gods, Laudna, you never… We should go–” She moves to stand, but Laudna stops her. “She wanted to remind me, I think, of what she’s capable of.”

“You’re safe now. I promise.” Imogen murmurs fiercely, pressing her lips to the crown of Laudna’s head. 

“My ears,” Laudna continues, because Imogen knows this story. “She promised me lessons. Said I would be able to hear her better with my ears just so.” A dry laugh escapes. “I suppose she was right.” 

There is something about being here, in the room of her nightmares, with another living person. With Imogen, who grips her tighter, holds her a little closer. Who does not flinch away, but extends herself as a comfort. 

“I don’t think you’d have liked me when I returned the first time.” Laudna swallows. “I was… lost, callous. I hurt people.”

“You did what you needed to survive.” 

Laudna shakes her head. “I was angry and bitter. I fought recklessly and killed without thinking. Not every shack I came across was abandoned, Imogen. And when Delilah began her meddling… I felt it was justice for the harm done to me.” 

Laudna sits up, leans away from Imogen and twists her fingers around themselves. 

“There was a little girl once. She was kind to me, the way young children are with their imaginary friends.” She smiles fondly at the memory. “I do love children… I loved her, I think. She snuck me kitchen scraps and apples, and we would play games into the twilight hours before she had to return home.” Laudna’s face falls. “One day, she brought her parents to meet her spooky friend in the barn. They were not so kind to me.” She rubs self-consciously at a spot on her hip. “They attacked me, and I–” She swallows thickly. “I killed them.” 

Another sob resurfaces. 

“I didn’t mean to, I swear it. They were shouting at me, and then I was shifting back into my body, and the little girl was crying. And I ran.” She exhales a shaky breath. “I betrayed her trust. I’m no better than Ashton or Delilah or–”

“You didn’t deserve that,” Imogen says softly. “Any of it. Then or now.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Imogen holds out her arms again, and Laudna falls into them. 

“You did what you needed to survive,” Imogen repeats. “We’ve all done things we can’t take back. All we can do is move forward and strive to be better.”

“I don’t hate Ashton,” Laudna whispers into the fabric of Imogen’s dress. 

“I know, Laud,” Imogen murmurs, “I don’t either.” 

They sit in the ransacked laboratory until the last of Laudna’s cries subside, and Imogen’s back is sore from leaning against the wall at an awkward angle.

“What do you say we go find the others?” Imogen asks gently.

Laudna nods and gets to her feet, dabbing ichor from her eyes. Imogen squeezes her hand. 

Together, they climb the stairs of the hidden passageway behind the bookcase and do not look back. 

[crithaus]

man hang on hang on, I'm cooking, I'm simmering here...

The Royal House of Whitestone so says Percy

needs some royal regalia (and one day I'll get up on my soapbox and ask the questions that need be asked re: What did Johanna need a full set of armor for and can I watch her crush shit with it), but so obviously Frederick gives Johanna as a part of her betrothal gifts, her wedding accoutrement, a proper bridal tiara right

Like properly, what else is her veil supposed to be held to, and furthermore as the new matriarch of House De Rolo she needs to be gifted a parure befitting a woman of her new stature, and I bet it's an old old piece of white gold, amethyst, sapphires and regular gold, Whitestone colors of course, and it's so old that Frederick got it from his own mother who got it from her mother from her mother from Melanie, for the express purpose of crowning his new bride, that it's passed through every lady of Whitestone's hands,

And as Julius sat there with his hands on her fat belly Johanna thought to herself, well, tradition is as tradition does I suppose, and she might have drafted a new set for their new little duskborn present, their eventide blessing, and that wasn't traditional but who cares, Whitestone prospers and her daughters will have their little trinkets, but I think on Vesper's coming of age Johanna sets her own diadem on Vesper's head with a smile at her slight breach of etiquette, coming of age but not yet married and yet it'll be our little secret, and she's kept Whitney and Cassandra's parures safe in a box in her room for when the time came, the requisite jewels can come and go on their little heads but this diadem was, is, has always been special, a family heirloom and an homage to the bonny and blitheness of their home all in one. The lady of Castle Whitestone settled for a slightly less bombastic headpiece that Frederick found for her in his own mother's belongings and life shifted on, and no one could deny that Vesper wore it well and with pride.

I think Sylas snatches it out of Vesper's matted hair to place it on the new lady of the House, and I think despite the brainwashing that that simple sight rankles in Cassandra's heart like nothing else, and when they kick the Briarwoods out obviously, obviously Percy takes it and sets it just so in Cass's hair, he is the new lord of whitestone after all, for a few more days, hours at least, and She the new lady, and that hurts y'know, it's a good hurt but it does hurt. Perhaps it doesn't fit perfectly but when it's all you have left at the moment, what else can you do?

and then Vex and Percy's first wedding rolls around, and despite it being a secret, a wrapped cushion appears on her bed as she's getting ready for the most important day of her life, a startlingly heavy little package with the most beautiful hairpiece she's ever seen with a little note of "for your special day, Lady De Rolo," tucked into the package string. (Cass puts on the diadem her mother had made specifically for her instead, they found it in the back of her boudoir, hidden and unscathed somehow, and it fits like an absolute dream, and suits her too, and the fact that it does so makes her cry so hard, mother never could have known it'd end like that and yet...) And Percy might have cried harder than he was already going too when he sees Vex but he spares her the sad explanation until after their wedding night, and when Vax leaves and everything settles down and the world stops ending for once, and little Vesper Elaina is sitting directly on her bladder, she takes to wearing it around the castle a lot more. It suits her, surprisingly enough.

(and one day it'll rest on Vesper's head again, and one day Percy will walk Leona and Gwendolyn down the aisle with that piece in their hair and feel a type of way about it)

[nothingwithdignity]

Laudna has an incredible history of overcoming adversities and managing to roll with the things that are thrown her way but one of the biggest weapons in her arsenal is compartmentalization. And not just in the “if I ignore it, it’ll go away” sense but also in the “if you don’t see it, it doesn’t exist” sense and that one can be specific to the person she’s interacting with. Imogen sees the kind heart the persists in spite of everything, Fearne sees the mischief maker, Chetney sees a fellow creator. Of course, they all bleed a little bit into one another but I’d argue that no one has a true picture of Laudna. She very deliberately keeps them separate when she can. Ashton arguably has the broadest perspective but there have always been walls even with him.

Laudna finally felt like something had gone right in her life when Delilah went quiet and maybe that’s the worst thing that could have happened. Think of it like pulling candy. If you stretch it out slow and steady over time with just enough heat to keep it malleable, it can be stretched farther and longer than you’d expect. It is shaped by the strain it’s put under but not shattered and almost never broken. But let it cool, leave it to sit, and then drop it? That short, sharp shock changes it irreversibly.

Delilah was quiet for so long that even the whisper of her heartbeat and the shadow of her veil are enough to be that short, sharp shock. Laudna’s walls crumbled all at once and I’m not convinced she’s going to be able to pull them back together again. And since that compartmentalization has been such a mainstay for Laudna, what does it look like when those walls are riddled with cracks that can’t be shored up? What happens when the side she hides from her oldest companion seeps into the carefully curated image she’s always shown? What happens when she can’t compartmentalize the way she has for decades?

Delilah Briarwood has shaped Laudna’s life for decades. It’s really just a question of what that looks like this time around.

[faltermoth]

I know everyone (including me) is currently wrapped up in Imogen’s narratively perfect hdywtdt, and child Matilda, and Delilah Briarwood dying for the *checks notes* third time.

But i just want to take a moment here to shout out Ashton Greymoore because he had so many beautiful moments this episode.

Him leaning down to little 3-year-old Matilda and asking so genuinly what her drawing meant, telling her he was interested, being so candid with her yet in a voice that carried compassion and understanding that this was a traumatized child? Crying.

His speech to Imogen about them not being able to change the past, his voice full of so much conviction about how all that matters here and now is the present, and that its all they can do to be there for Laudna when its all over?? Sobbing.

Imogen asking him what to say to Laudna to keep her from leaving the window and him responding with “tell her that everything is going to hurt”, knowing full well that she’s going to die, and connecting that to his own experience of dying and coming back in chronic pain?? Screaming.

Him confronting Delilah Briarwood before the big battle and telling her so forcefully and bluntly that her plan made no sense to him, that the reasoning behind her requests were incoherent when the veil of her own confidence and conviction in her words was pulled away, and her so easily telling him that she found the depths of his ignorance boring????? Throwing up and dying and passing away ect. ect. ect.

[thisisnotthenerd]

laudna’s form of dread is now a manifestation of the sun tree, and no longer the veiled ghost. she’s also seemingly without a patron at the moment, given that we haven’t heard from delilah in a while.

full offense to delilah, she doesn’t need more screen time. i would love it if bell’s hells actually managed to stamp her out of laudna. i’m sure they could make a full storyline in arc 3 about squeezing her for information on the assembly and fully purging her, but i think it would be cool for laudna to go somewhere else with it. to feel safe drawing on her warlock powers and to know that she’s no longer the contingency plan of the person that she was collateral damage for.

the idea here is that laudna starts drawing on the sun tree. it doesn’t quite hit the qualifications of a celestial patron even though it was blessed by pelor, so i don’t know how it could be made into a warlock patron without homebrew. also. celestial warlock is heavily based on light and radiance, so you’d get a fun little juxtaposition of a shadow sorcerer pulling on something that makes her do radiant damage. i would probably pull a few druid spells, but that feels like it’s encroaching a little bit on fearne & orym’s territory, so maybe not.

think about it. when you die, your body starts to feed the earth and decompose. the sun tree was dead/dying in the presence of the briarwoods, and came to life again during the revolution against them. it lived in her head just as delilah did--perhaps after being raised, and knowing it can talk, laudna can make conversation with something else that lived in her head for years.

i think its request would be to plant saplings of it, the way keyleth did in zephrah. give the sun tree a chance to spread beyond whitestone and take in the light of other places. funny little way to do this: laudna lays down & goes to sleep at night--in the morning she has to disentangle herself from a bed of roots.

[stories-stitched-together]

I know I never use Tumblr to make actual posts or have many mutuals that AREN'T my irl friends but whatever today's the day! I am obsessed with my own blorbos and have no media of them to consume so im making it a you problem! To all my music mutuals: I am desperately trying to build up character playlists and am struggling to find the Right Music and need your help.

Playlist 1 is for an undead oath of devotion paladin knight who's devotion to the family/Person he protects was so strong it continued into death and a gray tiefling blood cleric noble named Apostle (I picture him wearing a mourning veil for the dramatics; real Harrowhark vibes) that learned blood magic in order to stay with his knight longer. Vibes: Critical Role Briarwoods and the Only song I have on this playlist so far- Rot Next to You by The Hound + The Fox. If you want inspo/want to learn more about them, their tag on this blog is #til death do us part

Playlist 2 is for my new character, Cassius is a gnome wild magic sorcerer that sometimes pretends he's an artificer. Red/orange hair, scruffy beard, has a bionic eye he sometimes hides under an eyepatch from a uh. Unfortunate magical accident. He's a kind of chaotic grifter/con artist, and he and his newly "acquired" warforged friend are trying their hands at being a con duo! Its A work in progress! His magic is..... volatile, as wild magic tends to be. Shows up in warm colors of orange/yellow/red (vibes are kinda like the chaos of nature, unpredictability/uncontrollable power of fire/sun/etc)

Okay I think I'm done yelling about ocs, fly be free any music help will be appreciated <3

[afragmentcastadrift]

It's fascinating to witness the change in Laudna's Form of Dread, the deliberate nuances Marisha has added - all that tree flair.

The feature itself is a manifestation of the warlocks patron, and there is a shift now from the ichor-stained and veiled lady of anguish to an echo of the Sun Tree - the Sun Tree as Laudna last knew it when she was alive, a thing blighted by the influence of the Briarwoods in Whitestone, an entity rotted by corruption. It's a reflection of her own death, the horrific public display of it, framed against withered branches.

In the shadow realm, that in-between space, Delilah drew power from the dead or dying tree, imprisoning Laudna there in a torturous status, feeding off the tendrils of painful memories. Her plans and machinations on pause for the next opportunity - death is but a waiting game. Biding her time inexorably tied to the tree, the apex of Laudna's torment.

The duality is intriguing - Delilah's desperate gambit to exist but also her prison, and Laudna's own nightmare-wrought cage - the creak of rope upon gnarled limbs, of bones and bark breaking, a darkness eternal until the rise of a red moon, and later still, until sunlight dances through golden boughs.

Raised, reborn, Laudna felt the warmth of the tree upon her skin, still reconciling what was with a present, a newness, that seemed so remarkably unreal. And in that contact, determining that the most dreadful thing would be for that decay to take hold again, for that blessed warmth of life to grow cold.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC F/AotW Masterlist by Series 2024

Updated 06.02.2024

ACROSS THE VOID

AMERICA'S MOST ELIGIBLE

BACHELORETTE PARTY

BLADES OF LIGHT & SHADOW

BLOODBOUND

CRIMES OF PASSION

A COURTESAN OF ROME

THE CROWN & THE FLAME

THE CURSED HEART

DESIRE & DECORUM

DISTANT SHORES

THE ELEMENTALISTS

ENDLESS SUMMER

THE FRESHMAN SERIES

GUINEVERE

THE HAUNTING OF BRIARWOOD MANOR

THE HEIST: MONACO

HIGH SCHOOL STORY

HOLLYWOOD U

IMMORTAL DESIRES

IT LIVES SERIES

LAWS OF ATTRACTION

MOTHER OF THE YEAR

MURDER AT HOMECOMING

NIGHTBOUND

OPEN HEART

PERFECT MATCH

PLATINUM

QUEEN B

RED CARPET DIARIES

RIDE OR DIE

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

SAVE THE DATE

SUNKISSED

THE UNEXPECTED HEIRESS

VEIL OF SECRETS

WAKE THE DEAD

WISHFUL THINKING

CROSSOVERS

[essayofthoughts]

Hi! I just stumbled on your Little Moments In The Quiet series on ao3 and I wanted to drop by and tell you that your Critical Role fic is great! I'm really interested in your "Sylas Briarwood Gets To Live, Bitches" AU, and anything you have planned for Zahra and Kash! Thanks for sharing your writing!

Aw thank you! I'm glad you enjoy it so much; I've had a lot of fun with each of those fics and it's always nice to know when others have enjoyed them. I'm actually working quite a lot on the Zahra and Kash fics right now, so with any luck there should be some additions to Little Moments In The Quiet relatively soon, while Sylas Lives, Bitches is much farther down the list.

So hows about a few snips for you?

From the ongoing Zahra and Kash fic, which starts when they meet on the job where Zahra saves his life:

“This is stupid,” he says, cutting through everyone else. “We’re not gonna get anywhere by digging; this is-” He pauses, glances to see if anyone is too close by before continuing more quietly. “This is a fucking cult. Trust me - they won’t tell us shit. They’ll only talk if they think they can convert us, in which case you should fucking run.” He meets Hydris’ eyes. “This is a lost cause. I’d rather go back to the Take and accept the slap for failing than continuing. We’re not gonna get jack shit and if we do, we’ll have the whole village bearing down on us. It isn’t worth it.” Keith scoffs. Kash doesn’t bother looking over at him. “I know cults,” he says. “This has the word written on it in great big capital letters.” Laralel is listening, and Fenick beside her. Serhan’s eyes are narrowed, but she’s a suspicious lady, he knows she’ll be thinking about it. Keith doesn’t give two shits but then Keith is a dick so who cares. Boldar just seems bored if anything. “I appreciate the input,” Hydris says and oh great, that means she’s gonna ignore him, and he can’t help his scoff as she turns to the others. “Do we have anything else to go on?”

And from Sylas Briarwood Gets To Live, Bitches, (uncommon find: Pike POV!):

Her amulet feels warm in her hands - of course it is. Here, in this form, it is light and her goddess’ power. Back with her body, her amulet has been clasped in her hands for hours. Sarenrae, she thinks, prayer beyond spoken words and instead simple intent and concepts. You are of redemption. Bring them back to when they did not need this from us. A prayer. A prayer of kindness and of hope, a prayer that Sarenrae’s eyes will watch them through the Raven Queen’s veil of feathers, will perhaps take them up as projects so they do not fall to the pits of hell- Pike does not expect the surge she feels, something bright and wonderful, something more. She opens her eyes, and the vast reaching gloom of the cavern is suddenly lit with daylight. Up the stairs, Sylas Briarwood cringes back - but this light does not burn him, not as Pelor’s sun does. Sarenrae does not harm. Sarenrae helps. As Pike watches, Sarenrae’s hand, immense as a house, descends, fingers gentle as they touch Sylas Briarwood. He does not disintegrate. He does not burn or fade or vanish. As they watch he falls heavily to his knees, gasps audible as they echo off the stone, and Pike doesn’t need Sarenrae’s words, echoing through the chamber to know what has been done. “To you, I give you back a life lost,” says the echoing voice like sunlight and honey and healing. Sylas Briarwood breathes with gasping need, with the desperation of someone not used to it. How many years, Pike wonders, has he been dead? How strange must it feel, to be alive again?

Hope you enjoy these, because I've no idea when exactly any of my WIPs will be done! I am chipping away at Ghost Cass, Delia AU, the Kashra fic and a rotating set of other small WIPs.

[dadrielle]

Imogen angst ficlet be upon ye:

She hadn’t expected the rot.

Or, perhaps, she didn’t expect it then, with the slow beat of Laudna’s heart restored, a gentle thrum that sparked through her consciousness like the lightning she called. But the rot crept into the edges of her awareness, stinking, accusing.

“I’ll do anything.” She had said that to Delilah Briarwood, desperately grasping to bring Laudna back, and now -  she’s alive, alive, alive - without the fog of grief and need obscuring her view of herself, she could see the truth of it more clearly. She meant it. Anything. Just as Delilah Briarwood had promised however many years before, Imogen would have made any sacrifice to tear apart the veil of death and restore Laudna to the world. Even if those sacrifices weren’t hers to make. Rotten shame ate away at the edges of her, even as she knew she would not, could not renounce that final clarity. The rot crept over the words she wanted to say, the declarations that sat oozing behind her teeth. How could she tell Laudna she loved her, with the taste of her own depravity a heavy syrup on her tongue, knowing that while Delilah had lived in Laudna’s mind, here Imogen was, one foot on Delilah’s path, a new skin for the same terrible promise? 

In a world only a breath different, she would have been the Delilah to some other Laudna, would have stripped away the life and the choice from anyone, so long as it would bring Laudna back to her side. The knowledge clawed up her throat and stilled her tongue, wretched, retching. Rotten.

[flowersforvax]

SO THE FORM OF DREAD IS NO LONGER A VISAGE OF WIDOW BRIARWOOD'S MOURNING VEIL BUT THE TREE, THE TREE THAT IS PART OF LAUDNA'S OWN STORY

[littlebunnyman]

Prettiest little wife

Lord and Lady Briarwood have special plans for Percy after they take over Whitestone.

He enjoys himself more than he expected.

featuring an arranged marriage, a wedding dress, and Grog sharing Percy

Read on Ao3

Beginning under the cut

Percy had always thought- well, he’d never spent much time thinking about marrying anybody, but if he had, he would have thought it would be because he loved that person. Not this charade.

Professor Anders pats his arm and, with the veil covering his face, he allows himself to glare.

“I remember my own wedding as if it was yesterday,” Delilah Briarwood had told him just an hour ago. “I had been so happy... To know Sylas would be mine and I would be his.” She’d sighed wistfully. “I couldn’t stop smiling. And now look at your sour face- you are meant to be looking forward to this wonderful occasion. Be merry. Have fun.”

“I did not choose to marry.”

She had caressed his face and grabbed his chin when he tried to turn away. “But think of your sister. Cassandra has been so excited for today, she could not stop talking about it. She misses you. Nothing would please her more than to see you again. Especially if it’s to celebrate your wedding.”

The message had been clear. She wanted a happy facade, a wedding reception without any incidents, and she expected him to play his part. And if he didn’t, if he dared not look excited at any point, Cassandra would pay for it.

Professor Anders leads him past rows filled with humans on one side, and goliaths on the other. He feels their stares, their whispers amplified by the high ceiling of the temple. He grits his teeth and focuses on the priest waiting at the end of the aisle. And his husband-to-be.

They didn’t get to meet before. He is part of the Herd the Briarwoods want to work with but he doesn’t know if he is aware of Percy’s status in Whitestone. Percy doesn’t even know his name. But he is big and when Professor Anders hands him over, the goliath’s hand completely wraps around his.

“Hi,” his future husband says and Percy ducks his head demurely, if only to stop looking at the broad, naked chest in front of him.

He blinks away the sudden tears in his eyes. He knew the Briarwoods meant to humiliate him by forcing him to wear a white dress, the many layers of its skirt sitting heavy on his hips, to show everyone what a “pretty bride” he made. But he hadn’t expected this burning shame in the face of the goliath he would promise himself to. That his first impression of Percy would be this dolled up version, the picture perfect bride eagerly looking forward to his new life at his husband’s side.

Movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention. It’s Cassandra, sitting in the front row next to Sylas Briarwood, alive and looking healthy. She’s smiling and subtly waves again. Lord Briarwood takes her hand between his and her smile wobbles.

This is who he is doing it for. Let them humiliate him, let them marry him off to some barbarian. It’s all worth it as long as they leave Cassandra alone.

The priest drones on and on and Percy only tunes in again as he pronounces them married- him and Grog. Grog Strongjaw. His husband. Was his last name Strongjaw too, now?

Grog grabs his veil and Percy forces his lips into a smile. Happy. He needs to be happy.

The veil lifts.

Grog blinks.

Percy’s stomach sinks.

Grog hadn’t known. He’d thought he was marrying a woman. He’d thought Percy was a woman.

He holds on to his smile even as his face burns. Do something. Please.

Continue on Ao3