#WRITINGS : SYLAS BRIARWOOD.

[essayofthoughts]

Genuinely, I think one of the most fun and crunchy things about any character is

How far they will go for things they want

What they will do to get things they want

Things they won't do, no matter how much they want what they'd get in exchange

Because these things tell you some very important things about the character, namely their limits, their price, and their absolute No's. (And it lets you create some really REALLY crunchy conflict)

[demigoddessqueens]

I've just found you, and saw you did Vox Machina stuff. I'm honestly surprised I haven't seen Briarwood stuff. Imagine Sylus and Delilah agree that their loyal servant deserves a reward.

Ooooohhh yess!! Hot goth necro-vampire couple!!

KINKTOBER 2024

“Sylas, dear, don’t you think they deserve some type of reward?”

The witch’s voice crooned in your ear as she pushed you back up against him.

“So eager and always doing what we say….”

You felt the magic pulsating within your body as her fingers moved inside you. Curiosity gnawed at you before as to why she always wore those gloves, and you finally got your answer.

A low hiss near your ear signaled that the vampire thirsted for more. The tips of sharp fangs teasingly dragged along your neck.

“Of course, darling, who are we to deny?”

[blorbologist]

Spotify Wrapped Writing Game - #33 with Sylas and/or Delilah.

33: The Road Most Travelled, Morrowind Soundtrack

The carriage ride to Port Damali is tantamount to torture. 

Imagine: a nauseating haze, wherein you are afflicted with every possible form of weakness. Cradled by sickness like a babe without even the force to cry, to the point pain is no relief. To the point the only kindness you can hope for is an end, as bloody or bile-filled as it need be, so long as it spares her the ache of this fruitless effort. 

Imagine, then, that you are more alive than you ever were. Fast as a man chased by devils, more powerful, even crueler - finally, finally, a match for her. 

And then Sylas and Delilah stuffed themselves into carriages and inns and all sorts of cramped, terrible places. For weeks.

They cannot be Sylas and Delilah Briarwood; that would attract too much attention. And the Cobalt Soul, once his condition was discovered, has been nothing if not attentive.

Under the guise of perfectly bland travelers, they cannot have undead horses that need no rest or feed. Or reanimated carriageboys who do not ask for sleep or a tip, if it pleases mi’lord? And they certainly cannot be followed by a string of brutal murders to stretch Sylas’ sore muscles. or fully appreciate the gift Delilah has given him. or to alleviate the boredom from spending most of each day trapped in a rolling box. 

The coffin would almost be better! At least it has dirt in it. Except the one time he tried (look at him, experimenting - Delilah has rubbed off on him) the jostling made him very sick. And it would do no good to be sick after his dear Delilah went to such lengths to make sure he never would be again. 

So. Carriage it is.

He can’t even chew out the scenery - they travel by day to avoid suspicion, which requires the curtains be kept cinched shut. For a time, it was almost distracting to try and guess what the world outside was like. The carefully slow pace of the horses on narrow roads running between trees or alongside cliffs. The quality of the road, the type of gravel or sand or soil or cobble beneath their wheels, implying the terrain and civilization beyond. 

(And there’s another issue. Baggage kept carefully in the coffin and carefully selected feedings at night. Because there’s no one but them, and the carriageboy, and the horses, and Delilah’s blood is loud whenever she looks at him.)

Sylas is this close to braining himself on the ornate wood panelling for lack of something to do. Test out the healing factor. That would irk Delilah, though.

Which is about the only distraction he has: however twitchy he might be, Delilah is handling the boredom far, far less gracefully.

Wizards are very used to convenience, he’s found - and their journey is one long, long inconvenience. 

The carriage wheels purr. To their left, the world hisses out breath in gentle sighs. Sylas licks his lips; the air smells like blood. Like salt.

With a discreet peek at his wife, Sylas inches the arm he has lazily thrown over their seat. His fingers play with the edge of the velvet curtain. A glance - she’s engrossed in the trashy smut novel, dog-eared by now. Gently, he tugs the fabric open, revealing - 

He easily catches the book Delilah just threw at him.

“Sylas,” she hisses.

Pouting, he looks over the poor novel for damage. “Delilah,” he replies, aghast. “I never thought I would see you treat a book so terribly.” (He is, admittedly, a touch fond of this one. It has made their nights in various dreary inns interesting… if only due to Delilah's spite and irritation.)

She repeats, “Sylas! It’s midday.”

“But I’ve never seen the ocean before, dear.”

“You’ll burn, Sylas. The ocean will still be there tonight - it would be nice if you were, too.”

With exaggerated dejection he stares longingly at the curtains. The light filters through them just so - like skeins of flesh from flayed prey. How’s that for romantic prose? “I suppose. If it makes you happy.”

Delilah huffs. “Very happy.” She wiggles around, seething, until she finds a comfortable position. It just so happens that this means curling up against his side in such a way that will surely give her a sore back within the hour.

Perching his chin in his hands completes his dejected portrait - but it also serves to hide his smile. He doesn't actually care to see the ocean. Not really - Delilah's ire is more lovely than any view. And it’s fun, being her distraction. 

Maybe he should try reading the novel, to further entertain her on this long ride.

For my Spotify Wrapped prompt game!

[annietheseawitch]

Matilda is fourteen when the new lady of the castle comes to see her.

*

Finally, finally done with this. ended up being thrice as long as i planned, but i like the way it turned out.

[vaxyl]

Seeing people like posts about the Briarvax AU that I'm still working on the first chapter of after a year.

Ahahah. Ha. Ha...

I'm still trying to make it work, it's not abandoned, I'm just struggling to make the words word 😭

I really want to write this one!!

[onyxbird]

A Critical Role crackfic idea from months ago latched onto my brain in earnest today. It has already grown to >2500 words and at last gotten to the point where Vax gets to kick the snot out of Sylas Briarwood--snot figurative; kicking very, very literal.

Also, I finally thought to search today to see if there were available transcripts of CR episodes for checking how the canon version went, and was delighted to find that there are!

[ua-moved]

my dearest delilah, @willowdied,

i’m afraid i cannot visit you in rexxentrum for quite some time. i’ve been hired on a mission to escort some lord ( so they say ) to a city in the continent of issylra. they promise of a reward that me and the others hired would not regret. though, you needn't worry about my safety. i have ventured through far dangerous terrains in wildemount. if they do not commit to their words, then it isn't me who you should be worried about. i have been meaning to break out the new battle axe i have bought in my last visit there ...

unforunately, i am uncertain of the length of my travel and the duration of my stay in the city. but i promise i will do my utmost best to write to you often until i am back, safe and sound, in your arms. in the mean time while i am gone, perhaps a gift or two on my travels would make up for my absence?

yours, sylas.

[obaewankenope]

Well shit, apparently I can write stuff sometimes when I really like an idea.

.

He's not a vampire, not really, not like the Briarwoods, but Percival de Rolo cannot deny that his family is... Somewhat similar.

Was. Was somewhat similar.

Some of them were born with the taint of vampirism already active the moment they took their first breath, others... Grew into it.

Percy and Cassandra were the only two who grew into what they are.

It's likely why they survived when the rest of their family didn't once the Briarwoods revealed their true nature.

The interesting thing, truly, when it comes to those who grow into vampirism rather than those born or turned really boils down to this: before the first time they feel the thirst, every injury, every bit of damage, left its mark and after that first drink, it remained.

Cassandra, left behind, abandoned, by Percy in the night and snow, bloodied and arrow-marked still bore the injuries from Doctor Ripley's devastating aim. She still bore the scars from the blade that found purchase far more often in Percy's skin than it ever did his sister.

Percy has hundreds of scars from the 'tender' mercies of Doctor Ripley and dozens more from Sylas and Deliah that he will never be rid of. Cassandra has the bite marks on her skin that came before her thirst, ones Sylas took pleasure in reopening each time he drew succor from her veins.

Those that grow into vampirism have a unique sort of blood that turned and born vampires crave in disturbing intensity.

Percy remembers every time Sylas fed from him, every time. Cassandra, fortunately, does not.

A perfect memory is something Percy alone was cursed with and something he is thankful for, even if it meant Sylas could never charm him compliant as he could his sister. For Cassandra, she forgot much of Sylas' feeding from her, blended with compulsion and repressed memories.

Once Sylas realised Percy could not be charmed he relished causing Percy agony for every moment he fed, enjoying each cry, each whimper, every tear and tremor that Percy recalls vividly years later.

It's why he seldom feeds directly, using his own compulsion charm to steal no more than a glass of wine red blood rarely more than a month. A cut is easier to explain than teeth in the wrist, after all. Especially the sense memory of such.

He and Cassandra both require far less blood than other vampires, but the cost is lesser strength and speed than born and turned. The boon, however, is they both can face daylight without burning up and holy water does little harm to them.

Something about not being turned infernal but easing into it apparently lending them some resilience to the blessed water of divinity.

Still, it's not something he's ever going to enjoy or willingly indulge in, not after the first time he fed and sought to end himself after only to fail because a demon stayed his hand with thoughts and dreams of revenge.

Fighting the Briarwoods almost revealed the secret of Percy's nature to Vox Machina, saved at the last moment by their lack of understanding, lack of knowledge, of vampires. They, naturally, assumed no vampire could walk in the day.

Had it not been for the dragons and all that followed, Percy would never have told them. This shame, this thing about himself he hates so viciously he wishes he could carve it out of his chest and crush it with his hands. Unfortunately, Percy is well aware he is cursed in the worst of ways and as such, of course Vox Machina learn of this truly horrid shame of his in the worst possible way.

Exhausted, beaten, with their backs against the wall, they are at their limits and Percy, to keep his friends, his family, alive has to do something he despises and fears more than he ever has the Briarwoods.

He has to drink blood. Directly.

There are no wineglasses to be found in a cave, after all.

"Vax," he says quietly, hating himself for this, for asking the only other of their group who knows what it feels to be bitten and fed from this, but Vax is the only one who has not been affected by the hints of poison in the air, resistant to its effects as both the Raven Queen's Champion and as a rogue who willingly made his body resistant to poisons through time and effort.

There's no one else Percy can drink from without risking failure.

He still wishes be could gnaw off his own arm than ask this of Vax, however.

"What Freddy? If you hadn't noticed, I'm a little busy right now," the rogue says, not glancing up from his work trying to bandage the wound on his sisters leg. She's nearly unconscious, downed and weakening more and more the longer they're trapped here with no way out and facing enemies stronger than their team.

"I have a plan to get us out of here-" Percy begins, cut off by Vax's snort of dry humour.

"Great, get on with it then," the half-elf tells him and Percy sighs.

"I need your help to do it, however," he continues and here Vax looks up at the gunslinger at last. Percy knows the rogue can see the distaste on his face, the clear unhappiness with the plan Percy has and Percy knows Vax assumes it's because he needs the rogue's help. "I do not wish to ask you this, since I'm well aware it is not something to enjoy the prospect of, or something you would ever agree to otherwise, and I do not wish to even ask it but-" Percy clears his throat. "Desperate times call for desperate measures I'm afraid."

"Jeez, Freddy, is asking me for help that distasteful for you?" Vax bites even as his hands are gentle on his sister, finishing tying the bandage and shifting to move closer to the gunslinger knelt a few feet away. "Sorry to have to hurt your pride and shit but-"

"I need blood."

That, at least, shuts Vax up like nothing else. Percy's words are sharp, curt, but quiet. He knows the rogue can hear the shame, can see it in his eyes as the gunslinger looks just to the left of Vax's face. He can still see the expression on the half-elf's face but at least he's avoiding eye contact.

"What?"

"I'm- unfortunately I am rather weakened right now and the only way to get out of this is if I-" here Percy's voice falters, unable to say the words that Vax needs to hear but... Well, he doesn't need words to convey his meaning.

Fangs are much more clear about this sort of this.

The sharp sound of Vax drawing a dagger and raising it defensively, positioned between Percy and his sister is, well, it's both expected and an agony. After so much together, all the things they've been through, to have Vax again acting like Percy is a danger, a threat, to his sister is-

Well, it would kill him if he were a lesser man.

"You're the only one who is resistant to this poison, otherwise I wouldn't ask," Percy continues to explain, quietly and as calmly as he can even as his heart pounds with the agony of being treated like a threat again.

"You're a fucking vampire!" Vax's voice is sharp but not as loud as an out-right yell, the half-elf clearly not willing to draw the attention of the creatures searching for them. "What the fuck?"

"It's a long story, one I swear I will- I will tell you but right now, Vax, I'm sorry but we don't have time," Percy says and he knows he's begging, can hear the pleading in his tone as he still does not look at Vax directly. Does not try to compel the rogue who knows, intimately, how easy it is for a vampire to do as such.

"When?" Vax asks and Percy knows what he's asking. Not when will Percy tell him. No.

"Not all vampires are turned, some are born with it and others... Others grow into it with time." Percy glances at Vax's face, brief and just long enough to see the distrust on his face. "I didn't feel the thirst until I was nineteen. After-after everything happened."

That, Percy can tell, gives Vax pause. Enough for the distrust to waver just enough for the rogue to take in how clear Percy's shame is right now. His hatred of this need is.

"How often?"

Percy licks his lips. "A glass once a month. Never any more than that." Not since the first time at least.

There's a deep rumbling off in the distance, close enough to be of concern, too close to ignore. Vax has to make a decision now or they're all going to die.

Vex will die.

Percy admires Vax, he truly does, for how willing he is to sacrifice for his sister. Percy knows Vax would never have ran from his sister like Percy did. Would never have left her in the snow, looking dead, bleeding out with a monster chasing them both down.

So, as much as he hates it, Percy knows Vax will agree now to save his sister. The knowledge that Percy is forcing Vax to choose to let himself be fed from churns his stomach like he's drank a vat of acid. Compelling him would have been kinder but Percy cannot bring himself to do that to someone he l- to Vax.

"Fine," Vax snarls, shifting to his feet and approaching Percy with the dagger still drawn. "Take your fucking blood but don't you dare look at my sister for any."

"I promise," Percy says, slowly standing from where he's been knelt this entire time. Vax tenses more than he already was, dagger handle creaking in his grip. "I won't drink from your neck, Vax. I don't- I refuse to do that."

"Then where, hmm, de Rolo?"

Percy carefully reaches out for Vax's hand, the one not gripping the dagger, and feels the moment the half-elf flinches at the touch. He doesn't say a word about it, only raises Vax's arm, turning it slightly to angle his hand palm up.

"You wrist," he says, quietly. Still not looking the rogue in the eye. "The injury-"

"Bite."

"-the bite will heal easier and I can- I can control the amount far easier at the wrist than- than elsewhere." Percy risks a quick glance at Vax's face. The rogue is staring at him intently, distrust and suspicion and something more in his eyes. Percy drops his gaze the moment Vax's eyea widen as the half-elf realises Percy is looking him in the eye.

"Fine," Vax says sounding like he's agreeing to have something gut him and resents it. "Do it then, de Rolo, we don't have all day."

Percy swallows back words that Vax will not appreciate or care for. He lowers his head to Vax's wrist, held so carefully in Percy's grip.

Just before he bites, he cannot help but pause and say, almost whispering, "I'm so sorry for asking this of you Vax."

Then he bites.

The rogue let's out a hiss but otherwise doesn't react, tension in his frame holding him still even though Percy knows Vax longs to slash at him and get away away away.

Percy's instincts to hold his prey are strong but his will is stronger. He keeps his touch on Vax light and not restraining in the slightest. It's honestly less than thirty seconds before Percy has drank enough, one, two mouthfuls, a match to a glass, and he's pulling away, licking over the puncture marks to seal them in a way Sylas never did for Percy or Cassandra.

Vax shouldn't have to have scars from this, Percy's greatest shame.

The rogue shivers at the feel of Percy's tongue, the sensation intense after being drank from, but doesn't resist. Percy drops his wrist and steps back, still not looking the rogue in the eye, and nods.

"I will be back in a moment."

Percy leaves Vax there, shaking minutely from what Percy has done to him, forced him into doing to protect his sister yet again from Percy and his mistakes. He leaves and slips through the cave system, taking on enemies with claws and teeth he would not have been able to best before drinking Vax's blood.

He cannot think about that blood, the taste of it, not when his body is facing injury from what Percy must do. He'll crave it and Percy fears he may not have the control necessary to not take from Vax what he has no right to take.

Vax's blood is his own, Percy has no claim to it just because his cursed nature craves it.

It's the work of a half-hour, at most, to dispatch the remaining threats to Vox Machina, the poison in the air clearing with each defeated enemy until its completely clear again. Percy forces the rocks that had sealed off their exit route aside, enough for them to pass through, and returns, hesitantly, to where Vax kneels beside his sister.

Vex's complexion is much improved from the lack of poison in the air. She is unconscious, however, and will need Pike to heal the injuries she sports.

Percy keeps a distance from her, her blood calling to him like a meal to a starving man. Vax notes his return with suspicion but doesn't stop Percy from collecting their bags and shouldering them as the rogue picks his sister up and begins heading for the exit.

"We're talking about this later, de Rolo," Vax says, voice firm like the blade of his dagger, and Percy nods.

He's made sure to keep himself in Vax's line of sight this entire time, walking with twice the space between them than was there after... After Vex's death because of Percy's stupidity.

"Of course, Vax'ildan."

"If you ever hurt anyone on the team, I'll kill you," Vax promises and Percy doesn't let the rogue see the pain that promise causes him even as it relieves a fear at the same time.

"I will hold you to that, Vax'ildan," Percy tells the rogue just before they reach the exit of the cave and the others, mostly recovered from the poison, reach them at the exit.

Vox Machina leaves together but Percy cannot help but feel like an outsider to their team once more.

No one should trust a vampire, after all. Not if that vampire is Percy, at least.

Cassandra would never harm anyone. Her thirst, he knows, was sated under compulsion from Sylas. Percy has no excuse for his own actions.

He's been damned from the moment he was born, after all.

He's just damned a little different now, after Orthax.

The distrust is warranted. Vax'ildan, like Percy, knows just how dangerous a vampire is.

And Percy is a vampire, after all.

Just showed my dad The Legend of Vox Machina (he loved it)

but he was a bit disappointed because he thought that the De Rolo’s where going to be a rival family of vampires to the Briarwood’s

and now I can’t get that out of my head

[wayhaughtn7]

I have officially finished the audiobook for What Doesn’t Break and I can say it is absolutely my favorite CR novel by a wide margin. Getting to see the Suntree incident from Matilda/Laudna’s perspective is one of the most horrific things I’ve read outside of the rape and murder of the main character in The Lovely Bones. It also gives me new appreciation for what Cassandra went through with the Briarwoods.

I didn’t expect to come out of the book hating Delilah (and Sylas) more than I already did but I did. She is horrible and experiencing the way she manipulated Laudna made me think being trapped in the soul anchor is too kind of a punishment for her. It also reaffirmed my belief that the relationship between the two was more of an abusive parent and abused child than anything else. The drug metaphor of their relationship really only works for the part of their relationship that took place from the moment Laudna killed Bor’dor to the moment they sealed Delilah away in the soul anchor.

Laudna’s life after leaving Whitestone is just a series of heartbreaks with the world and everyone she grows to care about (before Imogen) reaffirming that she’s a monster, which isn’t helped by Delilah deliberately trying to make her one. It’s fascinating that despite all that Laudna is still the person who just wants to help people and be their friend. She really has no desire for power in the way Delilah did but the book did make me certain that she would become like Delilah to protect someone she loves.

Laudna using Pâté to annoy the shit out of Delilah is hilarious and is an experience I highly recommend. I will caution the folks who were more excited for Imogen being in the book than getting Laudna’s story to curb your expectations before reading it because she is not in the majority of the book (which I think was the right move) but their meeting is perfect and is made so much better by knowing what Laudna and Imogen will come to mean to each other.

Outside of Laudna, and the brief appearance of Imogen, there is one new character who steals nearly every scene she is in and I want to see so much more of her because she’s awesome. The moment a character declares they want to grow up to be a problem they’ve won me over.

All in all the book is really fucking good and I highly recommend it for anyone who wants to get better insight into Laudna as a character and understand why she’s done some of the things she’s done in C3. If you’re only interested Imodna please don’t read the book and then trash it because you’re upset by how little Imogen is in the book, this is Laudna’s story not Imodna’s. That being said I would not be opposed to Cassandra Khaw writing a sequel that covers the time between Imogen and Laudna meeting up to the point they meet BH’s.

[unicyclehippo]

the briarwoods, laugh + velvet + blade

natalie, pls consider this a nod to delilah buys a shovel

//

Sylas spent almost a full hour in the apothecary. His patience ran out quickly—he had very little to begin with, some meagre grains of sand tumbling from his fist like worthless coppers—it was the thought of Delilah that kept him squinting at tiny bottles and labels filled with cramped writing. It was Delilah and her shovel and her elbow-high red gloves that kept his hands in his coat pockets each time the attendant tottered out from behind the desk to wheeze some advice or other in his direction. He would have liked to pick out Delilah’s gift all on his own but he didn’t know enough about her work, how it actually worked, to help.

That would change. It wasn’t enough to be her blade—she had several of her own, very fine ones. It wasn’t enough to dig for her—she could hire muscle, or summon it. If he wanted to be worthy of her—never, never, but a worthy challenge, finally—if he wanted to be her husband, he should know what she needed before she needed it.

‘Find something you like, sire?’ the attendant wheezed. The rheumy eyes took an age to focus on Sylas and his empty hands. ‘Or, perhaps, I could assist you?’

‘Would you?’ Sylas asked, with a smile. He could be that, for Delilah. She liked this store—it was convenient, and she complained about it the least when she sourced her components, that much Sylas did know—so he could be friendly. ‘I’d like to get something for my love. Something unique.’

‘Well, we have a wild range of books and tomes, and the jewellery is always very popular as a gift.’

Sylas spared the gems a glance. ‘No. No, she has all the books and gems she could ever need.’

‘A wizard, eh? Something more particular then. Do you know her discipline?’

‘We share similar interests,’ Sylas told the shopkeeper. He couldn’t keep the fondness from his tone, the warmth, as he remembered their most recent date. She had been horrific, incandescent in green. Her dress had swooped low down her back, the tease, and she’d turned away from the horde of loathsome wood sprites or fey things that had burst in a flurry from the trees. She hadn’t told him to protect her; she’d trusted him to do it, or perhaps trusted him to kill until there was nothing left to kill, save herself. And she was enough of a match for him. He couldn’t decide what he liked more—keeping her safe, or wondering how she’d kill him today. If she wanted. ‘Protection.’

Sylas watched the old man finally take note of his size and his sword. Savoured the moment of realisation—calculation. The empty store, the distance back to the desk and whatever he used for spell craft. It would be the simplest thing in the world to kill him—he wouldn’t even have to draw his blade. But Delilah liked the incense here, and bickering with him about…wizard particulars. He looked away first.

‘Perhaps you have something…interesting. For your more discerning customers.’

‘Yes. Yes of course, my lord.’

He scurried back behind his desk. Sylas smirked at winking jewels in their glass cabinets when he heard the clatter of wood rolling in a desk drawer, and the rustle of fabric. He liked gems. They understood. They’d seen their fair share of blood—miners worked to blisters and beheadings to keep them quiet keep them working hard, cutpurses and cutguts plucking them red handed, the simple essences all wizards worked with, the simple tableaus all mercenaries worked with, halls of treasure spattered red. So the gems understood Sylas. If he wanted to, he could cut that wand in half. Split it. Or cut his hand at the wrist and take it, death grip and all, as his gift. She’d like that more than jewels, even if she would be irritated that he bloodied her favourite store.

‘For the discerning customer,’ the attendant said, ‘I do have a few options. You said she had gems but this here is no common stone.’ He pulled an emerald from a velvet pouch and a jar of teeth of impressive size. Giant molars, it looked like. ‘The stone is—‘

‘Perfect,’ Sylas interrupted. ‘How much for the lot?’

The man wavered. Hands clamped around the giants teeth. ‘Fifteen thousand,’ the attendant said, with a flicker of a lie.

Sylas paid the coin without complaint. A small price to pay to get out of that store—he didn’t know how Delilah could stand it, but knew she did, had followed her in and around many times before. And, he reasoned, he could tell Delilah that the man had cheated him. Them, really. He could lay her down on their bed and whisper in her ear all the hot blood things they could do, what gifts he could bring back for her. Fingers. Spleen. Spilling guts. Or he could do it so quietly, so carefully. Present her with an in tact body to do her work. Let her watch as he flayed it for her neatly to bone and gristle—she liked flesh, sometimes, but she was an artist with bone.

[cringefaecompilation]

I definitely feel like there’s enough still on the table, along with the fact that there has been no announcement that this series of battle episodes will be the end, to be pretty confident there’s at least 10-15 episodes left. There’s Orym and Chet’s Nana deals… she is a hag after all there’s no way they leave it unresolved either way. Also the C-Poppers, the Ashton dunamancy stuff, Dorian and the Squall but MOST EGREGIOUSLY we cannot let a second campaign be so loomed over by Delilah Briarwood to just end it with her hanging out in Laudna’s titties. After all this time, and coming up on TEN YEARS of Critical Role, I feel like they gotta deal with her permanently within the confines of this campaign. No one-shots or two-shots or miniseries. Give that bitch to the Matron for the love of god.

okay just so i don't end up getting lost in the sauce and writing a fanfic about it, here's how i think both the orym hag deal and laudna delilah situationship is gonna go down

they return from the moon (the moon in the sky)

orym fucking dies cause he turns into a plant

everyone freaks out and tries to help him but can't

they get keyleth to help them plane shift to see if nana can help

they go to ligament manor and nana is like "it's ok he just went back on our deal because the robot died :) i had to punish him sorry no take backs"

laudna is like "okay but what if we traded" and shows her the tit gem jail with delilah in it

morri yanks that shit out no questions asked (possible laudna constitution/survival check for that?)

orym comes back and gets all angsty because "no i deserved to be punished for failing!"

fallout/aftermath of whatever that entails

delilah never sees sylas again and suffers in loneliness for all eternity in morri's house the end

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

Rock Band AU:

Whatever the situation with the Briarwoods is, before he died (if he had the honour to do that in this AU) Sylas wrote the opening verse of “Little Wolf” from Epic the Musical to take shots at Percy after he left. Years and years later, Cassandra writes the second verse in therapy. The only people who know a second verse exists are Vox Machina, Kynan, and Kaylie.

Wait because I was literally listening to that song earlier this morning and you're so right. I could also see Percy writing it as kind of a punishment for himself. It's something he keeps to himself, not a song every published. But he does occasionally use phrases or motifs in his new songs. Vex is the one who picks up on it and just gives him a knowing look.

And that would make more sense for why Cassandra writes another verse. I can definitely see her being drawn to music therapy, especially in this au. Her therapist gives her an exercise to write lyrics that capture the feeling of being finally taken from the Briarwoods. And she writes the second verse.

At first Kynan is the only one who hears it. And he and her therapist encourage her to share it with Percy. So one day they do a little showcase as a group, just to show off things they've been working on since their lives have gotten so crazy. And when Cassandra starts playing Little Wolf on the piano, Percy almost bolts out of the room, but Vex stops him.

When he hears the second verse, he is only just able to stop himself from crying. Percy and Cassandra are bad at communicating in any universe, but they can write and play music and that helps them understand each other more.

[essayofthoughts]

For the DVD commentary ask game; hey Essay what the *fuck*

[Aka: Tiefling AU recounting of the de Rolos' deaths]

--

(He sees: his father, bruised and bloodied, clothes torn to rags, fingers broken and twisted in unnatural ways, sees him wheezing and wheezing and going still.)

(He sees: his mother, a crossbow quarrel in her shoulder, no armour to protect her, her glasses smashed, all her ferocious protectiveness turned useless by restraints as they forced her to watch-)

(He sees: Julius, choked, held by the throat by the man he’d just run through, Sylas Briarwood, smiling, sneering, tossing his brother down into the cells-

(He sees: Vesper, beloved older sister, spellbook torn from her hands as she tried to get enough space to cast something, anything, fleeing to the highest tower and only finding freedom by being thrown from it.)

(He sees: Oliver, Whitney, Ludwig, Oliver’s ribs cracking and cracked, Whitney’s fingernails torn ragged, torn out, Ludwig’s teeth ripped free to leave bleeding gums.) (He sees Cassandra, the last one left, at his cell, picking the lock, pulling him free.)

So, I'll admit that some of this is stuff I tend to hold to across fics - traits of Percy's siblings and ways that Ripley hurt them, but it's also that...

Trauma is messy and it messes with your memory. I highly doubt Percy remembers the whole of what was done to him and his family - too painful, too awful, too viscerally horrible - but he, like anyone, can remember fragments of it. Bits and pieces and not the whole and it's both better (less painful) and worse (surely he owes it to them to remember the whole of it?). It also means I can narrate it like this - like a fragmented flashback, because most flashbacks aren't solely visual and can be incoherent. They are often emotional or aural or based on a smell or a fleeting sound or wrong touch, and I wanted to invoke that broken incoherency in how Percy recalls things.

It also makes it more impactful for a reader. I can't write Ripley's detached torture of the de Rolos, not like @officialtrashbin can (and has for their Vampire Percy fic The Suffering of Night; it's great, go read it if you haven't), and if I just described every piece of harm she wrought on them then that'd just become gorn and no one wants gorn. Further, by describing all of it, it becomes both overwhelming (gorn) but also disallows any space for the reader's own imagination, which can be even more effective at building horror, and by limiting it to small things with some basis in things people might have familiarity with, it brings it viscerally home to the reader. I talk about Whitney's fingernails torn ragged and then torn out - we've all had a hangnail! Some people have had nails torn off in accidents. I say "Ludwig's teeth ripped free to leave bleeding gums" and anyone who's had to have a tooth removed knows what that yawning gap can look like, and everyone knows what it's like at the dentists, having to hold your mouth open - there's little parts of it that most people will have some familiarity with and which give them a basis to imagine it from: it becomes verisimilitudinous that way. I hope.

A few of these things are also headcanons I've built out more recently or ones I chose specifically to hurt you, Blorb. Johanna having glasses I decided because I think if Percy has more tangible habits and traits from his father, I'd like him to have his bad eyesight from his mother, just to balance it. I'd decided Julius was protective of his siblings long ago as the eldest; the idea of him trying to fight back but being unable because Sylas Briarwood came naturally from that. Vesper however... Vesper was specifically because this AU is for you.

I know you remember and hold to the idea of Vesper being thrown from a tower, and I've had a headcanon of her dabbling in spells for a while; it felt fitting to combine those for a smidge of extra pain here, Vesper trying to get enough space to safely cast something, anything, and being given only a twisted version of freedom, thrown from a tower, unable to cast Featherfall or Fly.

That one was specifically put there for you.

Send me ~500 words from a fanfic I've written and I'll give DVD Commentary-esque explanation of why I wrote it like that

[blorbologist]

briarwoods!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! cadaver, cross, century

[I'm LATE but this idea hit me while crossing the road. like a car. and it's maybe MOSTLY Delilah but she's constantly thinking about Sylas it's ok]

--

Delilah can’t say she’s bored. She really can’t. But - oh. The cemetery is tempting.

If it’s bodies she wants - and of course she wants, from the head of this table, with an entire city at her disposal - she can want them and then have them. Brought to her: already dead, or alive, or in-between. Or down the secret stairs, in the crypts, neatly labeled samples. Or in the servant’s quarters, where she could choose a body herself and redistribute the staff. 

All the funding of the assembly means little compared to this wealth, this absolute wealth, of cadavers. Enough to test the limits of her control - to find those lines malleable. And fresh, so fresh, in whatever state she wants. 

But she wants the cemetery. 

So: here she is, soft shoes muddied, sweat at her back. And it’s underwhelming. The markers are in wobbling rows, skirting ground too rocky for graves. 

(Rexxentrum’s graveyards are neat. Efficient in their use of space; they only take urns. Tiny, cramped urns. Far too small.)

Whitestone is a well-trained city by now, brought to heel. It watched politely, quietly as she walked, and probably averts its eyes as she walks, feeling the dead underneath, around, everywhere. Or maybe little people try their very best to peer through the fog, to glimpse the Lady of the city seeks on such a night.

You see - no, do look. You see, it is very difficult to get away with grave robbery near Rexxentrum. Or several miles outside it. Even within reasonable distance of most major roads. Which is such a shame when decomposition is a fascinating process, one so heavily influenced by the size of the corpse and the content of its insides and how it is buried. 

Delilah almost floats over the loamy ground. At what point is a body beyond even her talents? Is it a matter of time, or preservation? To the best of her knowledge, a minimum amount of material from the same individual is needed - but how degraded could they be? She’s never really had the sample size to experiment before.

(Decomposition begins as the body begins to eat itself. Then the littlest creatures begin to eat it, too. Everyone so hungry for it, so hungry. Three days later and there is bloat, and fluid, and flies, and maggots. And he looks just like any of her bodies, and he looks wrong.)

She peruses the markers with a smile. Cute, in wood or stone, they are fashioned into sunbeams pouring over where the deceased’s head should be. One for date of birth, one for their name, and one describing when and how they died. Sometimes another with a short message, but she really only cares for the cause of death.

(A few are broken, crooked. Made into crosses; made into wooden daggers. Pretty, petty threats. Cause of death: nothing, never, he did not die, he will not.)

For centuries she walks. Down one row, up the next. Consumption. Lethargie. Accident, accident, accident. Erathis’ judgment. Tympany. Coffin birth - oh, interesting. Here there is not a marker but a shovel, at the head of an empty grave. Flanked by another, another, another. They’ve been busy. 

She peeks in. Shame - nobody. No body yet. 

(In a fit, she had bought a plot for him. For her. So he could have something, even if she failed him. And she did. Until she didn’t anymore. Now it probably sits empty.)

Her heart is too loud, baying in this quiet. Delilah inhales. Exhales. Petrichor and moss and a whiff of her own perfume. Heel, she wills it. Heel. It would do her no good to worry Sylas, if he listens for her.

(They would fit neatly in one of the graves, in any of them. Six feet and Sylas would help her down with a hand. The dirt would be cool; he would be colder. A burial just for them, only moving things in this cemetery.)

When she is confident her blood is as still as it can be, as close to death as she can be between breaths - when she is here and now and not then and there. Only then does she reach for the nameless dead and make them move.

[kissofthemuses]

👑 + Delila Briarwood, Twiggy, or Zahra?

@anktank-rp-main

SEND ME 👑 + A CHARACTER NAME OF A CHARACTER YOU THINK I SHOULD WRITE ! I’LL REPLY WITH 

WOULD I: YES / MAYBE / NO

HAVE I EVER BEFORE: YES / NO 

I used to have Delilah as a muse but I feel like I didn't write her well. (And also Cassandra is my loudest CR muse so, she kinda drowned Delilah out.) I toy with the idea of adding her back from time to time bc honestly, I'm so interested in delving into her relationship with Sylas and even pre-Whispered One stuff. (As much as I adore her evil bitchiness, the core of it being not evil for evil's sake, but for LOVE is so so interesting to me. And the idea of exploring how love can make people do some of the most twisted things in its name.)

ICON & WRITING SAMPLE (IF YES TO EITHER PREV. QUESTION):

As much as she tried to fight it, a smile tugged at Delilah's lips. There was only one person in this whole damned world that could coax such an expression from her, and, indeed his arms wrapped around her from behind, his lips pressing lightly to her neck.

Leaning back into her husband, she said, ❝We're so close, my love. Soon. Soon everything we worked for will come to fruition.❞ After all, all this had been done for the man behind her. For him, she would deliver this world into the hands of it's own ruin. For him, there was no line she wouldn't cross.

[vaxyl]

OKAY!

I've been having a really hard time writing lately, its been a rough year for me which has done a number on my mental health, and something needs to change before I break.

I currently have 17 projects I'm actively writing & that's mad, so let's reduce that number...

I have a story request I'm working on - it's my first ever story request… and also likely my last story request sadly.

While I love the story, it's been pretty stressful to write for someone else & their wants and I just don't need that extra weight on my mental health rn.

I plan on trying to finish it soon, hopefully before the new year rolls in but no promises, but it's definitely still on the menu - it's an interesting one, so I hope the requester and everyone else who reads it enjoys it!

That aside, I've also found myself focusing on these following stories, so they're also still actively on the menu:

Not My Mark - an a/b/o au where Vax ends up having Sylas Briarwood's kids after he is caught snooping in the Briarwoods’ guest room in Emon and starting a chain of unfortunate situations

The Cost Of One Soul - an au where Orthax steals Vax's soul during the ritual where Vax saves Percy from Orthax's soul prison at the end of Season 3 of The Legend of Vox Machina

Growing Pains - an au that takes place after the Briarwood arc where Vax is captured and deaged with magic by cultists from The Remnants (The Whispered One's cult lead by Delilah)

Separation Burns - an au where Vax and Vex are permanently separated when Vex runs off and leaves Vax alone in the rain after they flee from Syngorn as children, Vax falling into Byron Anders’, and later on the Briarwoods’, hands while Vex becomes a cleric ranger of The Wildmother in New Byroden and eventually ends up in Vox Machina

And I have other ideas I still want to work on in the future at some point, though its not guaranteed - these ideas are:

a Left 4 Dead AU - modern au set in Exandria when the Briarwoods start the zombie apocalypse and everyone is told to get to Issylra as its zombie free - Vox Machina are a band currently touring in Whitestone when the apocalypse breaks out, so now they're trying to reach Issylra together in the hopes of surviving the apocalypse

a Vampire Vax AU - a third attempt at an au where Vax is turned by Sylas, I really love the idea of Vax as a vampire I just haven't nailed the execution yet

a Cyberpunk 2077 AU - set in the world of the of the game, with Vax acting as V, this would be a retelling of Cyberpunk 2077 where Vox Machina are an alternative rock band who also do some less than legal gigs on the side in the war on the corporations of Night City for the poor and downtrodden when Vax ends up infected by a biochip storing an engram of Purvan Suul made by the Briarwoods during a high stake heist that goes very wrong very quickly and he has to find a way to remove the chip before Purvan takes over his body

a Political Drama AU - Percy is the second son of Fredrick de Rolo, a politician running for the position of the president of The Republic of Tal'dorei, and when Percy comes of age the family is suddenly struck with sickness and Percy watches them all die - he has suspicions that it was poisoning rather than sickness, but can't prove it - which leaves him to carry his father's name as Percy becomes a politician too, Percy being advised to marry into a rich family to help support his political campaign by his father's team and leading him to marry Vax before Vax comes out as trans, Percy and Vax working together to make Tal'dorei a better place while competing for the position of president

And here are the stories that I will be putting on Hiatus for now until further notice but have already started:

Drowning - a rewrite and expansion of my take on The Sunken Tomb, That Sinking Feeling, where Vax has a much harder time adjusting to his deal with The Matron that saved his sister and the Matron comes off as more creepy, cruel and controlling without meaning to do so

Stars In Your Eyes - an au where Allura falls in love with Vax and comes to terms with his fate and her own role in his past, present and future while also struggling to handle the consequences of a lie she's been telling herself and everyone else around her

Ring For Me - a story written from Vex's perspective dealing with her guilt over eloping without her brother's knowledge, her grief when he dies and her horror when he comes back different before he leaves again - also explores her ever evolving relationship with Keyleth

Bitten - a sequel to my fic Kinship and Makeup, where Vax and Cassandra bond over them both being victims of Sylas, where Cassandra helps Vax recover from a nightmare where Sylas comes back for him in Whitestone during The Chroma Crisis

The Raven In The Crows's Nest - a Dragon Age: The Veilguard au where Vax is an Antivan Crow due to things outside of his control growing up and he accidentally finds himself becoming “Rook” after saving Varrics's life, and as events unfold he and Lucanis fall in love with each other and decide to try and rebuild the Crows into something more positive for the people of Treviso

At The Bottom Of The Garden - when Percy is young his family build a vacation home in the woods, disturbing a fairy meadow, but Percy befriends one of the fairies, Vax, and does what he can to make it up to them, but when Percy's family die in a fire he stops visiting the meadow for years before finally coming back as an adult working for Briar Labs - he starts to refriend Vax but when his bosses drop by to ask him to work on a secret project, Vax is spotted and captured by the Briarwoods, leading to Percy and Vax's sister teaming up reluctantly to try and save poor Vax

If you have any questions about the stories or ideas mentioned above, please feel free to submit an Ask!

And yes, Anon is turned on. 💕

Sure, this is still 11 stories in total, with an extra 4 possibly waiting in the wings, but it's a lot better than 17 active WIPs.

The requested fic takes priority, of course, but I'll still be trying to work on the other 4 active story WIPs in the meantime - I'm especially fixated on Not My Mark rn, so I want to keep that train going while I'm still able to do so.

Also, yes, all of these are Vax centred in one way or another - if you know me or have been to my blog before, this really shouldn't be a surprise to you.