#hyth chill out

[rinnysmuses]

Rhea could see whoever the hell she wanted BUT WHY WAS SHE HANGING OFF HIS ARM!!!!!!!!!

[nights-at-crystarium]

While I'm ancient-trio-posting, wanna hear a bit about their dynamic?

Hythlodaeus and Hades are old friends, roommates, even. A genuinely mature, established couple. I haven't really thought too far back in time yet, so maybe childhood friends to lovers because no one else in my story has this trope yet. I leave it open-ended for now. What matters is that they're very chill and stable together.

Azem, not-yet-Azem but a mere apprentice of Venat, has a certain secret, harmless to the world, but potentially ranging from laughable, cringy, personally embarrassing to legally punishable, should it be brought in front of the Convocation, like all lies it's doomed to be revealed in time, he already hangs out with one of the Big People and there are talks about Venat's retirement, our little not-yet-Azem feels like he might get recommended, and must find help with his silly secret before that.

Hythlodaeus, Chief of the Bureau of the Architect, has ever been kind and patient with not-yet-Azem's concept submissions, and generally seems like a reliable and open-minded person, so our guy asks for his advice on the matter. Of course he isn't let down, the nitty gritty of it I'll leave for later. The important part: he and Hyth grow closer, and Hades, already being joined at the hip with Hyth, is in on the secret as well. It's just a vulnerability that I use as a means to win over Hades's heart. Be genuine, beg for his help, rely on him, and he's yours.

Venat retires, the new Azem takes the seat, his secret's safe/resolved (forget about it, it's played its role of the glue for our trio), things are chill for a while, the trio grows into a proper throuple, Hades is recommended for the seat of Emet-Selch by both his lovers, but by Azem most ardently (and selfishly: he feels like a white crow among the Convocation and wants another freak on the team. Hades finds it sweet though).

The status quo moves to the known canon where Azem travels a lot, sometimes summons his buddies to his side, he tends to disappear from Amaurot for weeks and months on end, Hyth and Hades are left to themselves, seemingly things are the same as they've always been, but the joy of reuniting with their wayward lover, and the pining when he's gone, is bigger in Hades than Hyth. Of course they, the two mature people holding hands from the beginning of times, don't discuss this.

Azem may not even realize what he's doing- well, ain't that most azems in a nutshell. He just exists, loves his partners, shines for them with equal warmth like sun. It's not that Hyth doesn't like being sunkissed, no, it's Hades who gets a bit too excited, tries to mask that however he can, perhaps HythHades pretend that nothing's changed, but, yknow, subtle cracks. Hades's heart grows more fond due to the time and distance that separate them so often. Of course he's terrified and he sees what this does to the balance of their poly, it's not welcome, but it won't go away.

Enter Hyth's self-esteem issues, and how neatly that weaves into his following sacrifice to bring forth Zodiark. Even though Azem's nowhere to be seen, it's fine, he'll return, it's just a tantrum, the Convocation will forgive him, Hades will be left in good hands, he and Azem seem to be happier without Hyth anyway. (no, no, no, no-) Of course, the latter's left unsaid, only a smile on display and vague words of affirmation for the shellshocked Hades.

Through the sacrifice Hyth drives up his value. He's forever important to Hades now, forever on his mind, his guiding star. I view Hyth's selfless act as selfish too (just as Raha's but he isn't relevant here), a desperate act of a soul not only loving, but desperate for love. Hyth gets what he wanted. In a fucked up way, he's happier as a part of the moon. He never has to contend with the sun again.

[nyxvaledoeswriting]

FFXIV Write, Day 19: Taken

Rated T

Ship: Emet-Selch/Azem

Azem finds out what happened while she was away during the Final Days.

The silence in the conclave was deafening, suffocating. Persephone swore she could hear the heartbeats of the other convocation members that stood around her with heads bowed. They encased her, bearing down on her like disappointed parents.

At the center she stood along with Hades… no, not Hades. Not her Hades. This was Emet-Selch, the Redeemer, in all his glory. Harsh and calculating and cruel.

How could the purpose of Emet-Selch twist her lover so that she couldn’t even recognize him anymore? They stood with much space between them, almost if Emet-Selch was afraid to be near her.

“What have you done?” Persephone questioned in a low voice, eyes trained on Emet-Selch alone.

“Only what was necessary. The Final Days were upon us, we couldn’t-” Elidibus’ words were panicked yet somehow calm in the face of one of his friends. The betrayal on her face must’ve been evident.

“What have you done??” Persephone demanded in a louder voice, her question blatantly meant for Emet-Selch rather than the other members. Her hands were trembling at her sides and nausea threatened to overtake her.

“Only what was necessary,” Emet-Selch repeated Elidibus’ words plainly. His flat, matter-of-fact tone chilled her blood and left her reeling. But she couldn’t let him see how much he was already affecting her. She had to be strong.

What had become of Amaurot while she was away? Her beloved home, devoid of light and life.

“We are the convocation of the fourteen! We are supposed to guide and protect our people! This is a path we will not, nay, can not stray from! How many have perished for this would-be god that promises unshakeable protection from that which we brought upon ourselves? How many more must be taken? What if this ‘Zodiark’ can never be satisfied with the stolen aether of our citizens? How many more will be sacrificed?!” Her voice rose with her fury, her incredulousness.

How could any member of the convocation believe this was truly the best solution? How many did they lose for a god they knew nothing about? Loved ones that could never return from the life stream.

“If you don’t understand our motives behind this plan, then perhaps you weren’t made for the seat of Azem. After seeing the world and how it has been marred in the face of the Final Days, you out of all of us should agree this was the only option.” Lahabrea spoke up in that neutral tone of his. Had he no empathy? Did he not understand the gravity of what has taken place?

“The only option?! If our only option is to murder those who look to us in times of need, then it is no option at all!”

“Azem, that is enough,” Emet-Selch barked out sharply. “You were not here during the talks, ergo you forfeited your right to speak up against this measure. As Lahabrea has reminded you, we had precious few options in the face of this calamity. During times of great catastrophe, the many outweigh the few.”

Persephone’s face heated up and she stepped forward to meet her lover face-to-face. She set her jaw as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She never thought she would ever have to face down the love of her life, but the world was different now. Things would never be the same after this. The moon in her night sky was gone, replaced with whoever this fraud was who wore his mask. The mask placed a barrier between them, unflinching and cold.

“You’ve taken everything from the people, our people. Their loved ones, their homes, their lives,” she tried to keep her voice even as she kept speaking. “You took Hythlodaeus from me, from us. I never got to say goodbye, his life snuffed out as if he were nothing more than smoldering ashes left by a waning fire. I will never get to see my sun again, nor my moon. Hyth is gone and I didn’t even have the chance to tell him how much I loved him.”

Azem lunged out to grip Emet-Selch’s robes as tears streamed down her face. The force knocked the mask from his own face, revealing an expression devoid of emotion. When she looked up into those pale yellow eyes, she saw nothing. Something was terribly wrong. Creators, what had they done?

“Hades,” she choked out, reaching towards his face before stopping short. “No, please, don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me after everything. I’ve already lost Hyth, I can’t lose you too,” she wept against him before she sank to her knees. “You’ve forsaken us all…” Persephone gripped the bottom of his robe to keep herself grounded.

“The conclave will endure, as we were destined to in the face of adversity.”

[azems-familiar]

Omg this isn't even related to the ask game but the ask you just answered 😭 sorry bout that, I suddenly thought of more questions now.

Also THANK YOU SO MUCH to you and Davi for churning out so many writings these past few weeks holy crap, I've loved reading every one of them. Yall are spoiling us /pos

Okie question time: surviving Ancients building a New Amaurot?? Yes pls??? But also how do they survive???? I'm so glad Hyth and Elidibus are there though, they're unabashedly my favourites aside from G'raha and Emet Selch. I was also wondering if you guys have any plans on writing smth about how, after the Final Days, Emet, G'raha and Corrain (and maybe Lelesu) work to find some way to return to the first? This curiosity probably stemmed from you guys giving Lyna interactions with Uncle Emet, I could not stop smiling at those.

Thanks so much again!! Keep up the great work XD

okay SO. as to how each of the ancients survives is different; Hyth is the easiest, because in canon on Ultima Thule he and Emet choose to leave instead of using Hydaelyn's magicks to become corporeal again. so he just chooses to stay instead. Elidibus we're saving in the last tier of pandaemonium; between the last lingering fragments of Hydaelyn's gift and Emet's own magic. it will still take him a long time to recover and piece himself back together, but he will. Lahabrea is harder, but we've decided to go with a fan theory that his soul is stuck in Estinien's lance alongside Nidhogg, so once Hyth (who has the best soulsight) gets a look at it they're going to borrow the lance and just yoink him free. his multiple years stuck in a spear alongside an extremely angry dragon watching All That go down have chilled him out and forced him to think on his actions some, though that doesn't mean it'll be smooth sailing all the way through once he's freed.

as for returning to the First, right now we have this on our outline:

i'm headcanoning that the Ascians are capable of traversing the rift physically (even if that's not necessarily quite lore accurate, it's a little bit wibbly) and so Emet is able to take G'raha with him. the others will have to wait until Y'shtola finds a way across on her own, but i expect Elidibus will be willing to help her with that... we will see.

there are several plot points that since it's obviously setting up for future expansions and things, we're kind of waiting to see what the game does with them (like some of the stuff dawntrail introduced). of course we'll probably invent our own stuff eventually if we get to that point in writing and the game still hasn't given us any answers, but since this particular verse is sort of our "canon" we are trying to keep it as game-adjacent as possible so that we don't have to. do tons of wild work for it and it ends up not being related to the current stories being told at all.

i'll tag @sunderedazem in case there's anything he wants to add here, but thank you!! really glad to hear how much you're enjoying things. and the Emet and Lyna interactions are something we both super enjoy too - i actually have a half-done promptfic sitting around that's more of it, i just have to settle down and work on it. though unless something really changes the next thing to be posted will probably be the next bit of Ascian Azem :)

[voidedleylines]

FFXIV Write 2024 Day 21: Shade

In which lovers take in a quiet moment

Rating: T || Fade-to-black sexual themes || Hythlodaeus/Azem

Enjoy!

The tree does well to shade them from the harsh heat as they lay together.

She leaves tomorrow on another expedition for the Convocation, the first time since they’ve finally crossed over into more than friends. Something she’s wanted since pretty much they met as kids years and years ago.

Hythlodaeus runs his fingers through her hair and she lets out a gentle hum. She feels him let out a content laugh of his own and she looks up at him.

He’s already looking down at her, gentle purple eyes beaming. Full features on display and not behind the white mask that so often occupies his face. It's a peaceful and quiet moment between them and she feels a chill run up her whole body.

“What?” she whispers as he still just stares. She brings a hand up to cup his cheek and rubs a thumb alongside it. That breaks his gaze and he leans into it, eyes fluttering closed he brings the hand that was in her hair and overlaps their hands.

“Nothing, my hjarta,” he says. He moves his hand to her chin and lifts her head up to meet his and leans in.

Their lips meet and an instant heat fills her body and she quickly readjusts so she has more ground. It’s not long until she straddles him and has a hand on either side of his face, pulling him in closer and closer and hungrier and hungrier.

He lets out a cheerful moan as he wraps his arms around her tiny waist, his height engulfing her even while both sitting.

Reluctantly he pulls away and holds the back of her head now to keep her from continuing.

She pouts playfully as the amusement only grows on his face. There’s a beat where she thinks she maybe crossed a line and goes to begin an apology when she lets out a yelp instead as she’s lifted off the ground and up into his arms.

“Hyth!” She exclaims with a laugh. He doesn’t respond with anything but another giggle as he brings them back into their home and not so subtly to their bedroom.

She looks up at him and his eyes already lost their playfulness and are given way to a much different mood as he now towers over her.

They fall into each other easily as they continue to make up for all the lost time without the comfort of each other.

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

trying to concentrate on a task, but your lover is kissing your neck, making your head spin

Hi there sorry for the delay but I hope this suffices. Enjoy Hyth and Anthea for this piece. Warning there's the start of spice but it stops before we get into that territory.

Just when Hythlodaeus thinks he’s done with seeing shark concepts another one manages to make its way into the pile. He checks the name of the submitter, finding it to be none other than his childhood friend, giving Hythlodaeus the freedom to crumple it and toss it away….only to find another that’s not from said friend. “For the love of-.” He sighs heavily, flipping through the pile until he’s pulled out all the obvious shark concepts to place in the “Deal with Tomorrow” pile, a pile that was growing ever taller with no signs of stopping, “There is no possible way for me to catch up.”

The knock on his door would normally make him feel instantly relaxed doesn’t knowing he had to do his damnedest to focus on a creation that was unfamiliar, lest his piles of work continue. He gives a quick glance up confirming that the person that entered his office without invitation was his beloved Anthea. “How goes the concept approvals, beloved?”

“Never ending.” Anthea smiles, rubbing his back before tidying up the piles on his desk, “Next time I am laid up in bed, my beloved, please let me continue to work.”

“And have you approve of some concept that borders on the monstrous and absurd like the last time I let that happen?”

He shakes his head, eyes never leaving the task at hand, “But now I have so much to get through I most likely won’t return home to you until tomorrow evening.”

They pout, wrapping their arms around him from behind, “I don’t think I could be away from that handsome face of yours for that long.”

“I have to get this done.”

They kiss his cheek, “Then I guess I just have to enjoy your company for as long as I can.” Anthea pulls his chair back eliciting a chuckle from him, and a roll of his eyes when they straddle him to rest their head on his shoulder. 

“Comfortable?” He laughs, as he gets a simple nod as an answer. He kisses the top of their head, “Just know I am not carrying you home if you fall asleep if that was your plan.”

“Oh you wound me, beloved,” they say, voice muffled, “How dare you figure out my dastardly plans to get you home sooner.”

The room quiets as Hythlodaeus looks over the next concept, making notations and critiques, ignoring the way Anthea’s hands move up his body. He sighs when his braid is pulled to the other side, the brush of their lips against his neck sending a chill beneath his skin and heat between his thighs. He flips to the next one, clearing his throat, willing his gaze to focus and absorb the information before him when all he wants to do is lean back and savor the feel of his beloved’s skin against his. It’s half hearted notes as he moves along to the next one gripping the pen tighter when Anthea’s lips finally start to kiss down his jaw starting from his ear. His heart starting to race when their fingers deftly begin to untie his robes.

“Anthea,” he warns breathily when they begin to kiss down his neck. Anthea hums, pulling his robe open enough to touch his bare chest, teeth teasing his skin. “Darling….please….” His pen gains a mind of its own when he gasps after Anthea adjusts rubbing against the growing ache in his pants. Anthea smirks, using the brief shock to pull his robes farther down, the goosebumps on his skin not leaving even after he’s adjusted to the temperature change. 

“You work way too much, my love,” they whisper between the kisses making their way up to his ear, “When was the last time you had a break?”

“Beloved, I have to-.”

“Work, I know. I’m just helping to promote more efficient work.” They pull away, gently cupping his face, “And you want to be efficient do you not?”

Hythlodaeus melts into the kiss they give him, hands instinctively finding ways to disrobe them. His moans entangle with theirs a moment before pulling away breathless, “I don’t think my assistant will be appreciative of such a method.”

Anthea pulls down their robe to match his, reveling in the way he looks as he drinks them in before whispering against his lips, “Then it's a good thing I sent him away already.”

[asteriasfallingstarsandtears]

Stepping (mostly) away from the 14 Fandom has definitely allowed me to re-evaluate how I feel about characters and other things in the game and how much of it was just me trying to fit in or swayed by public opinion.

Like, I still love G'raha, but most people I was associated with didn't so much so I never really discussed him except as part of my Hadestown AU. I still prefer his Crystal Exarch and Crystal Tower versions over his Endwalker. Hope in Dawntrail he can chill out a little over the hero worship but I also know some people like that, but also my dude, we saved the universe together, you don't need to uwu me.

Still really enjoy Emet-Selch, Lahabrea and Elidibus in my own interpretations of them being sad old men. I like all three of them slowly losing their minds, or quickly in Lahabrea's case I guess, and Elidibus being a shell of what he was with few attachments and memories, driven only by the barest memory of Duty, Love and his other half's need to feed on Aether (Zodiark, personal HC of why he keeps demanding more and more sacrifices, it takes a lot of aether to power something so massive for so long and do the miracles such as fixing the aethereal balance and rejuvenating the planet). Emet losing himself over and over chasing half ghosts of Azem over Millenia does something to me, I HC he made the Hyth shade out of loneliness and imbued too much of himself in it, making it too much of Hythlodaeus but also too much Emet and it reminds him of it every time he sees it. Lahabrea likewise chased his family over the eons, seeing his son die and be reborn over and over on top of the personal horrors he must feel for actively working to destroy the Star just to remake it probably wrung what little stability he had left in his mind post rejoining of the Hephaistos half. Not to mention 12k years of Athena insidiously whispering in his ears from the Heart.

The Scions, I like them, Alisaie is still my favorite little sister for my WoL, and Alphinaud for all he's annoying at first, really endeared himself to me in later expacs. They are Family with a capital F to my WoL, to the point she would have murdered Forchenault for disowning them if she had had the opportunity. I have very strong feelings on disownment for seemingly petty seeming reasons, having had it happen to myself. It was very much a Immediate Hatred Of Character Moment. Sure he had A Reason but I still stand there and side eye him hard.

Thancred remains a favourite as well, I like the personal growth he goes through, how he changes from the rakish bard with a silver tongue to a sad and broken man to sad broken dad to someone who at the end of the world gave everything he could to save his family from total destruction. I also appreciate his morbid jokes as someone who likewise feels just broken sometimes, who doesn't want to sometimes burn the world down makes me cackle so much.

Y'shtola I also rather still like, especially when she's allowed to be a bit, and pardon the pun, catty. She grew up with Matoya, cattiness was her bread and butter. Let a queen live her dream of world hopping and sassy retorts. The magical girl routine and the end of patch 6.5 where she's like There is no other version of this spell, right WoL? Makes me so happy.

Urianger I have mixed feelings on, mostly because I just don't understand him as a character. I know he's supposed to be all Mysterious and stuff but I really just standing man when he's expositioning. It's probably a thing to do with his Shakespearean way of speaking when no one else does (I guess Hydaelyn kinda does). He's fine.

Krile, I really like her in general. She's a side character that made it to main character status and I'm so proud of her. She makes me happy with how she is somehow the cutest cat ear wearing girl but also the terrifying creature that haunts Estinien's dreams. I look forward to seeing her shine more in Dawntrail.

More Thoughts (tm) Later.

[eriyu]

"Yu" is Ehryu's childhood nickname from her family! none of the Scions know it; almost no one she's met since she first went to Eorzea knows it. not because she's made any effort to hide it; she quite likes it, but it's just never come up in conversation.

...except once. she told Hien as an apology for accidentally finding out about "Shun." :)

BONUS (and as a follow-up to my Hythlodaeus nickname poll from last week):

in my AU where he and Hades stick around after Endwalker, Ehryu calls him Hyth. Hades doesn't, and Azem didn't. nicknames just weren't much of a thing back pre-Sundering? but Hyth finds it charming. :)

Hades, meanwhile, grumbles about it being improper, maybe even disrespectful, and Ehryu waves him off with a "Yes well I've only got so long to live, as you know, and I haven't the time to say all those letters."

Hades continues to grumble, and Ehryu shrugs haughtily. "We Miqo'te are much more sensible about this kind of thing. One or two syllables and that's it."

Hades gives her a withering glare, and Ehryu is now kicking her legs, nonchalant as can be. "I'll bet this is why Elezen don't say half the letters in their names either."

...Hythlodaeus steps in to make sure Hades chills out before he can attempt to murder Ehryu again.

oh hello! a wol question, perhaps?

does your wol/oc have any nickname(s)? if so, what are they?

given to them by family? friends? do they have meaning to their appearance or their personality? are they an inside joke? do they like their nickname(s)? bonus: do they give people nicknames?

[lovehotelreservation]

... can I request Hythlodaeus and Emet agreeing to confess their love for reader during the holidays? Emet's pretty sure they'll choose Hyth or just deny them both, but surprise reader loves them both. Hyth knew this and mostly wanted to get Emet to confess(finally)... And maybe a threesome? If not, Emet having a steamy night with reader bc he's been holding these feelings back for SO long?

"Just what are you grinning about...?"

Emet-Selch's brow was furrowed, his voice rather breathless.

"Only that the blush on your cheeks are inspiring the shade of red I want to add to my mistletoe project."

Your eyes were glinting with sweet mischief, matched by the upwards curl of your lips.

The hold that his hands had on your waist tightened, much to your delight, his tongue ready to lash on demand--

"Now, now, this is the season for affection, not venom~"

--were it not for his mouth to suddenly be smothered by yours, a joining that was orchestrated by a chuckling Hythlodaeus and the gentle guidance of his hand on the back of your head.

Still, he had a point.

With the sweeping flurry of soft snow all aflutter across Amaurot, it only made the warmth within your quarters all the more savored.

Though the gentle roar of flickering flames from the fireplace warded off any chills, it was by the shared warmth among all three of you that truly left you all blissfully feverous.

There was no separation.

By the thread of robes, the secrecy of feelings yet revealed--not a single thing kept the three of you apart from each other.

With you pressed right in the middle, lying upon Emet-Selch, pushed further against him by Hythlodaeus hovering right above you from behind, you were all joined, united. Both of your lovers plunged their cocks in and out of you in tandem--the former gripping onto your waist tight with each vigorous thrust, the latter sweetly dragging his lips over your neck and shoulder-blades alongside the languid push of his hips.

By the time your mouths parted for breath, you couldn't even catch a glimpse at Emet-Selch's exacerbated fluster, given that Hythlodaeus bent down to indulge himself with a kiss of his own with you.

And it was seeing this that Emet-Selch was almost felt embarrassed from the sudden joy that delicately overcame him.

To be able to share a kiss with you, to have your love reciprocated not only to him but to the other soul he cherished most in the world--what more could he truly ask for in this life?

“Now just what are you smiling about?”

Your voice sounded ever so dreamy as you spoke, your lips having just barely parted from Hythlodaeus’s, whose violet eyes twinkled as they shifted towards him as well, a knowing expression on his features.

Emet-Selch’s answer was preceded by his face burying itself against your neck, kisses left on your skin all while he began to pump his cock into you even harder, your sudden squeals bringing about a prideful smirk on his features.

While Hythlodaeus playfully tsked on him needing to continue working on being upfront about his feelings, he snorted lightly, even while his heart was heavy with love. 

“Plenty.”

[queerleaflet]

(Can’t remember if I sent you one) so 24. whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin

"Listen, can you hear it?" "Hear what?" "Shh...just listen!"

Hushed tones died down as as the man shifted in the satin sheets, pointing towards the open window that let in the light of the city. Whatever Hythlodaeus was hoping them to hear, it was barely noticeable beyond the comings and goings of night life below. Barely...but not impossible. At the corner of his attention, the tiniest of creatures sang in evening reverie. Like a violin, short and sweet, calling out for company in the darkest of nights. For a moment, the world felt quieter. "I signed off on them just last week, they call these meliomorpha...bell crickets. Aren't they delightful?" "They certainly sound it..." Azem hummed, leaning into the outstretched arm of their lover. A kiss was planted on one bicep, returned generously with another on the forehead. "Would it not for the other ambience, I would enjoy a night of just this..." "Yes, well, Amaurot never sleeps." they heard the smirk in Hyth's voice, and the two both knew what the other was thinking. "Amaurot's not the only thing that never sleeps...and I think that's a grave injustice." sighed Azem, shifting away from the warm body into the cool, empty mattress far too big for just the two of them. "You want to try your hand at talking to him?" "Try's a very funny word." got his partner to chuckle. Reaching out for their robes, Azem donned them loosely over their bare body, and made their way out the door. Lamplight illuminated the corner of the outside room, a splash of gold amidst the navy of the night. And as expected, the man in question himself sat, writing diligently a report for who-knows-what in the dead of the night. "Emet-Selch? It's an ungodly hour of the night, would you please come get some rest?" What was asked was met with a grunt and a handwave, furrowed brows barely twitching at the sound of another soul approaching. Very well, he had got it bad. Be it a deadline or delay, his dear friend would gladly sacrifice his health to get the job done. That just would not do for Azem. Quiet footsteps echoed down the tile, warmth of two bodies' auras proximities, and with the quiet of all but the scratching of pen against parchment...Azem would move in to whisper. "Come to bed with us...Hades." the tiniest mewl only Emet Selch could hear, close enough to feel Azem's lips brush against his ear, the soft skin of the lobe. Sleepy, hot breath that sent a chill down the man's spine. "Y-you're insufferable." his voice cracked, but the stubbornness had already been shattered. "If I miss this deadline...it'll be on your head."

Taking a moment to stretch out the stuck in his bones from sitting so long, the two would make back to bed. A warm, clean, full bed, where the three could snuggle up and listen to the crickets till their consciousness slipped.

[ancientechos]

Flowers For Thee

Emet-Selch/Arianna ♡ 1460 words ♡ very pre-canon [Amaurot]

Creating living things has never been one of Hades’ fortes. There’s too many sticky details to get caught and entangled in -- an errant thought away from a miserable accident. At least buildings and the inanimate cannot feel or think. It’s much easier, much cleaner to fix a mistake in architecture.

Leave the new life to those with a passion for it.

Like Persephone. She is always bringing him new concepts, letters so gleeful and colourful as to make him feel dizzy with the animation with which she speaks. And of course, he is never too busy to listen to her excitedly chatter across the bond, detailing a brand new creature that may never see the light of day, simply to exist as a concept in limbo. But it still gave her joy to think of it.

Albeit today, she has been -- perhaps oddly quiet. Typically she will check in on him intermittently throughout the day, a welcome respite from his duties. But today...the bond, her presence has been silent. He has not even seen her glow through the windows of his room at the bureau. It almost makes him want to pull at their link and ask if something is the matter, but the thought of disturbing her makes him pause.

All the better for it, perhaps, for suddenly he hears his name floating across from from voice he is so fond of.

“Hades! Where are you? I have something to show you!”

Despite himself, and despite not even seeing her, engrossed in the glow of his small buildings, the miniature of Amaurot, he can feel his lips curve at the delight that conveys itself through her telepathic speech.

“In my office. What is it?”

Instead of replying, the bond goes silent once more. The door opens a few minutes later, the woman gliding into the room with quick steps, a pot clutched in her hands. A pot -- of flowers, a kind he has never before seen.

But he has not ever been as enamoured with plants as her. Perhaps it is simply one he has not laid eyes upon.

“I -- I made these! Thinking...of you.” The smile that spreads across her face is bright enough to rival that of the sun. For a moment, Hades does not understand her words.

She -- made them? Thinking about him?

That sensation that so oft makes itself known around her settles in his chest. He does not dislike it. But it makes his throat tighten and his eyes burn as he glances from her to the pot of flowers she now gently places upon the corner of his desk.

Does she mean to imply these have never existed before -- until she had formed them out of nothing? And thought of him, whilst doing so? A living plant created from her...thoughts of him?

Swallowing, Hades looks toward the flowers more carefully. Delicate purple and white blossoms sprawl across a thick and strong-looking stalk of green. When he leans in, he can smell something that -- oddly reminds him of chocolate.

“And -- and I can make different colours, as well!” Persephone lightly trails a thin finger along the rim of the plant’s pot. “With a different scent, if it pleases you. But -- I thought...hoped, you might like this one, too.”

Still wordless and voiceless, he lifts a hand to touch one of the thick petals. The entire plant quivers like a creature with life.

A living organism.

“I -- I adore it. As I do you.”

It is still difficult to look at her, for some reason, but he doesn’t need to meet her gaze when she draws close to him and wraps her arms about him gently.

________

Narrowing his eyes, Hades all but glares at the pot in front of him as he wracks his mind, trying to think back to his Akadaemia years. He had made so many...things. Mostly with Persephone, of course...

But still. At least part of those projects had been his. So...there should be nothing different about...making this.

“Why are you making a plant, Hades?” Hyth asks from somewhere behind him as he pops a grape in his mouth. “Never pegged you as the sort to be interested in that.”

“...For Persephone.”

“Ah, well...good luck with that.” His “best friend” gives a mild guffaw. Hades feels one of his eyebrows twitch, but decides not to mention it. “Why not just give her a pretty pot of those ones?” He doubtlessly gestures toward an already potted plant, but Hades shakes his head.

“She made me...flowers. So -- I would like to do the same.”

He’d hoped that being in the gardens would help...ground him, that seeing the other flowers would prime him to create something...just as she had. Though -- it’s not just as simple as thinking about making a plant, which in itself is not truly that simple at all. He also has to think about her...her voice, her scent, the way her hand feels in his, their flesh pressed together, their hours upon hours of discussing and theorising in their rooms, the very way she seems to seep peace into the room...

Closing his eyes, he draws his hands together above the soil of his pot, pouring magic into the sediment. Feeling something beginning to brush at his fingers, he moves his hands aside, but continues to try to create, wishing beyond all that what he makes will be able to show her his love for her, just as the beauty of those flowers she had gifted him show him hers.

When he opens his eyes, heart full of hope, he feels it crashing to the ground instantly upon seeing what he’s managed to make.

The flower is large, certainly, and bright and vibrant. But it is not very flowerlike at all. Its petals are sharp and mechanical, like the harsh edges of a building sketch. It’s not at all like the elegant blossoms Persephone had gifted him. It’s...cold.

He hears Hythlodaeus shambling up near him, peering at his creation with a tilted head.

“...It’s sharp and edged, just like you.”

His jaw clenches, knowing it to be true, yet not wanting to hear it. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Hyth. Why are you here, anyway?”

“Ah...” He clears his throat, rubs a hand at the back of his hood. “Petri wanted to look at some of the flowers.”

Hades glances up for a moment, watching another cloaked figure in a purple hue as they look up at one tall, red, flowering plant.

“Why are you bothering me, then? Shoo.”

“I was curious...!”

________

Hades does not want her pity.

He’s almost certain she will say she likes it even if that emotion does not truly bud in her chest. A poor attempt at something in kind for her -- she is the sort of person who would accept it even as she looks it to be something lesser.

Yet all his other attempts had gone even more poorly than this first one. He understands now why she must have been so silent and unresponsive that day. How many tries had it taken her to make something she was satisfied with?

-- One? Since she had said she had experimented with colours and aromas...that had to mean she had been satisfied with the general blueprint of her creation from the very first...

His stomach feels heavy with stones. He almost doesn’t notice that he has stopped in front of her office. He’d entirely forgotten to ask her if she was even here, too --

But she is. He knows from the hue --

Swallowing, he opens the door to find her seated demurely in her workspace, at work on yet another concept, he’s sure. She looks up at him with concerned green eyes, perhaps already having sensed his discomfort across their link. He’s prepared for her pity.

“I -- thought of you when I made these, Persephone.” He holds out the pot for her to take.

Her wonder nearly takes him over all else. Her fingers brush his faintly as she reverently takes the pot from him, wordlessly gazing at the plant.

There’s no pity or sorrow, only pure, unadulterated joy, an underlying feeling of shock and awe. When she places the pot down and throws her arms ‘round his neck, he nearly stumbles back as he embraces her in turn.

She buries her face against his neck, the chill of her mask almost disguising the feeling of her tears dropping against his skin as her arms tighten around him.

“Thank you. I love them -- as I love you.”

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Oh okay so I got an Azem and 2 other Ancient OCs. I tried to sum them up best I could and their stories so I hope you enjoy!

So firstly Azem, born under the name of Diemos, is Emet’s annoying yet practically equal in talent younger cousin. They grew up together fairly close so you could compare it easily to a sibling relationship. Impulsive as hell, challenges Emet to anything and everything. Hates the city and the longer he’s there the more likely he is to be hot headed and more impulsive. Didn’t choose the Azem life the Azem life chose him. Wasn’t an official Convocation member at the time of Emet joining but practically was they just hoped a few more years apprenticing would chill him out a little more. Has chimarishm granting him two different eye colors, became useful in the Final Days as he was trying to find a way to save the star and said this was too much for just one of him. He was a summoner in skill more than blm (but still close) and so tried and succeeded in making a clone of himself using that different set of dna resulting in two bodies same whole soul (lost the two different colored eyes though) prior to sundering and did it on impulse so there was never a thought to if it could be reversed later on.

Anthea my precious, they are the creator of the Elpis flower and eventually becomes the Watcher/Shepherd. They met Hythlodaeus after bringing in the Elpis flower for evaluation and quite literally bumped into him. This was way before Emet was on the Convocation and before Hyth became the Chief of Bureau of Architecture, like if I had to put an equitable timeline to our lifespan they all would have been fairly fresh from college and like mid to late 20s. From there the two began to fall for each other fairly quickly and much of their worlds revolved around the other with Anthea fitting into the trio that was Hyth, Emet, and Azem making them all a kind of family (made the full time move to Amaurot after Hyth became chief easier). They were so very devastated about his sacrifice but accepted it nonetheless. When it came to the third sacrifice Anthea couldn't get behind such a thing and rejected Emet's offer and pleas to join him in working to bring their world and Hyth back. It was then they turned to Venat and she gave them the job of being the Watcher/Shepherd for one would serve primarily as watcher and be split into 14 while Anthea was there to see any souls that left Zodiark too early back to the sea and to provide the aether the Watcher lost so they would remain whole. They are the one to tell Siberite the name of the flower after Hyth asked for her to show it to them hoping to make them smile and know that he never had left them.

Finally we have Constantinos aka Conner. Conner was the assistant to one Emet-Selch as a misguided prank/messing with from Azem. The two had a good relationship in terms of work though that didn't stop Conner from getting frustrated with the man and in delivering some paperwork ran into a still fresh faced Convocation member Elidibus and proceeded to rant about his boss to him. While apologies were made the two found themselves physically attracted to one another but made no moves about it for awhile. Once they did a sort of office affair began in secret. Eventually feelings would grow and all of it was kept secret going so far as to Elidibus taking the name Themis outside of work while donning a black robe and white mask. Conner would perish in the initial fall of Amaurot and since only three people had confirmation on his relationship he spoke to no one about the grief felt. Post sundering any memories of Conner that would come back would be forgotten and let go of first because they were too painful to bear.

You guys should tell me about your Azems while I'm stuck here at work. Just anything about them! Their names, what they like to do, did they ever make any concepts, who they loved, etc... Anything!

Hell, even just any Ancient OC's you might have. It doesn't necessarily have to be Azem!

[tanadrin]

Of Things Remembered

“Wake up.”

The scene around me swam and reformed itself as the young man opened his eyes. The generic room was replaced by a modest stone cell. A little table appeared in the corner, where one dim candle flickered, casting a dim light over a couple of books and some parchment. An evening chill swept in from the narrow window that appeared, and outside I could see the stars, undimmed by any city lights or orbitals. I switched over to the full baseline human sense-simulation, and inhaled slowly. The evening air was fragrant and damp, like a rainstorm had just passed. Through the door I could hear voices far down the hall, rising and falling together, perhaps in prayer.

"Everything is fine, but you need to wake up.” He seemed to be more alert now; his eyes were searching about the room; he was confused, but calm. When his gaze finally came to rest on me, he looked me up and down for a long time before he said anything. I glanced down at myself to make sure my appearance wasn’t too unusual. I fit into the room, now: I was dressed in plain homespun cloth, with simple leather slippers, and my hair hung loosely around my ears.

“Are you all right?” I said.

He nodded. “Yes. Yes, I think so. I must have been… sleeping very deeply. Dreaming about something. But I can’t remember what.”

“The deepest of sleep. And I’m sorry to wake you from a well-deserved rest, but we needed to have a conversation. I’m Nolla.”

“Will,” he said. “The brothers call me Long Will, on account of my height.” He turned one ear toward the door. “Shouldn’t we be at matins?”

“Don’t worry about that for the moment,” I said. “We have more important matters to attend to.”

Skipping prayers didn’t seem to sit well with him, but he didn’t object. He sat up and looked at me more closely. I turned to the little table and picked up his candle, holding it my lap so he could see better.

“I don’t think I know you,” he said. “Are you one of the novices?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m just a friend. A guide. I’m here to help you through a difficult transition.”

Will furrowed his brow. “What sort of transition?”

“We’ll get to that. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Yesterday, I was…” His voice trailed off. “Funny. I don’t remember what I was doing yesterday. Or the day before that.”

“What do you remember?”

“That I should be at matins. That the abbot gets quite cross with lazy brothers. I spend most of my time when I’m not at prayer copying the books, and helping Brother Stephen in the kitchen. But I’m looking forward to summer. It does me good to spend some time outdoors, helping with the planting. I… I’m sorry, I’m feeling a bit foggy.”

“You’ve been asleep for a very long time. It’s quite natural. I just want to make sure you’re feeling all right.”

“Are you a doctor? Have I been ill?”

“In a manner of speaking. Tell me about specific events you remember. Start with your life just before you came to the monastery.”

“Well, I’m from the village originally. My parents suggested the religious life, and it always felt right to me. I remember leaving home, coming to live here as a novice. I remember being nervous, meeting the abbot for the first time. Learning to read and write. I remember… I remember the time Brother Laurence and I got lost in the woods, and we were terribly worried, and tired and hungry, but Brother Hugh found us. We laughed about it later, how stupid we had been. It feels like it was a long time ago, but for the life of me I can’t say when. I suppose it could have been just yesterday.”

“It was a long time ago,” I said. “All these things were.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“More than ten thousand years,” I said gently.

Will smiled, then laughed. “Oh, you’re very funny.”

I shook my head. “I’m quite serious.”

“Yes, long enough for everything in the world to pass away and to start over from the beginning, so it’s exactly as I left it.”

“It isn’t, Will,” I said. “This, everything you see around you, is an illusion for your benefit.”

I let the simulation flicker, just for a second; I didn’t want to scare him, but I wanted to show him I wasn’t lying. For just a moment the walls and the table and the bed under him disappeared, and the dark hills and the stars and the moon beyond were visible where the cell had been; and then they were back, as solid as they had been before. Will’s face went deadly serious.

“Is this heaven or hell, then?” he said.

“Neither. You’re not dead. Not anymore. You don’t have to be afraid; nothing’s going to hurt you or cause you pain. I’m sorry for the deception, but we wanted you to wake up in a place that would be somewhat familiar to you, to make sure you felt at ease.”

Will ran his hands over the blanket, and the wall beside his bed; he rubbed his fingertips together, staring at them intently.

“All this feels very real,” he said.

“The mind is a powerful thing,” I said. “Yours is in a kind of in-between state right now. A place where we can take your memories and the sensations you know and show them to you in great detail. And where our illusion might be imperfect or incorrect, your mind will supply the little details and corrections needed to make it feel solid and consistent. But please believe me: we have no malice in our hearts. All this is for your benefit.”

“I believe you,” Will said. “Or I would like to, which maybe amounts to the same thing.”

I smiled and nodded. “Very good. Then we have overcome our first hurdle.”

“What… what has happened to me?”

I took a deep breath. “Will Long of Hythe, in Kent. You were born sometime in the late thirteenth century A.D., you died of natural causes, an old and well-respected man, abbot of this monastery, in 1334. You spent your life as a monk, serving God and your community, and because of your reputation and your position, you were remembered long enough for your name to enter the local histories, along with a few lines of your biography. You took to poetry later in life, and composed several hymns, and a few fables based on local legend. Most of the manuscripts that contained copies of your work were lost in the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the 16th century, but twelve manuscript folio, on which you were named as the author of the verses contained therein, were discovered deep in a London archive almost six hundred years later. These were the basis of an influential study of your life and work, about half solid historical investigation and about half clever speculation, by a PhD candidate--a doctor of philosophy in training, that is--in 2135. We used that study as the starting point for bringing you back.”

“You said I wasn’t dead.”

“You are speaking to me now. You hear me speak to you. You are sensing, thinking, feeling. Yes, you are not dead.”

“But I died. Long, long ago.”

“Yes. You did.”

“And you brought me back? That’s not possible.”

“Debatable,” I said. “By which I mean, we do debate it. Some would say, you are not Will Long. Will Long ceased to be when his heart stopped beating and his eyes were closed and he was laid to rest beneath the earth; and you are a new person, with the same name, and many of the same memories and thoughts and feelings. And some would say, it is the pattern that makes a man who he is. That just as if you take a tapestry and pick it apart into individual threads, if you weave it back together again, is not the same image? What if you replace one thread? One hundred threads? One thousand? And there are others who grant that while you may not have to use the same threads, if you make any error at all in the weaving-together, it is a different image. To which I say, does it matter, if it looks the same to the observer?”

Will closed his eyes and rubbed his head. “You’re talking in riddles. I need specifics. What did you do? How did you make this? Make… me?”

I leaned back in my chair. “I will try to explain this as succinctly and accurately as I can, but your language lacks many of the words I need, because your world lacked many of the things we used, and the words to describe them. But our methods are all the methods of the natural world, all the methods of good and honest philosophy, all knowable to a man like you if he has enough learning.

“There are methods of mathematics, like the algebra of the east, but much more sophisticated, by which one can infer missing quantities among vast collections of information. Some of these are very precise; some of these cannot produce precise knowledge, but only approximate knowledge--yet often that approximate knowledge can, by successive application of different methods, be narrowed to a very small range. As though,” and I gestured now at the books on the table, “you open a manuscript to find one word blotted out; yet if it is short, and begins ‘th-’ you know it is ‘the’ or ‘thee’ or ‘thou,’ and not ‘through’ or ‘thorough.’ Or as though a line is missing from a piece of poetry; and while two other copies agree on what the missing line is, a third disagrees--but you judge the two that agree are more likely to be correct.

“And these mathematics are so complicated and so difficult that a whole city of human calculators might work for centuries and accomplish but a small piece of a modest puzzle to which they are applied. But in the many centuries after your death, we have developed tools to aid us. First, they were based on the same principles which drive clockwork, like more sophisticated clocks capable of performing arithmetic quickly, by the means of levers and gears. The same machines, using the same principles, were made more sophisticated and swifter in their operation over time--and eventually we stopped using clockwork, and started using other physical principles to operate them. But the underlying logic of their design was the same. Though they appeared as though they could perform wondrous feats that had nothing to do with mere mathematics, mere mathematics was the foundational principle of their operation; and they could accomplish no wonder that could not in some sense be reduced to a question of numbers and the operations of numbers.”

“I am afraid I don’t know much about mathematics,” Will said. “All this sounds quite fanciful to me.”

“Then let us speak of words--for it was another insight of later days that mathematics is not so different from language, and the philosophers of those days used one word to unite the two, the word ‘information.’ The theory of information was found to be a useful tool for examining the natural world, just as you might use your eyes or your ears, or, in dark places, search instead with your hands. And using the tools provided by the theory of information, we came to believe our ability to recover things that were lost now extended to the memories and feelings and thoughts of those who had long been dead. Especially those who had left some testimony of themselves behind. And we hoped, maybe--perhaps an arrogant hope, I admit--that by the application of these techniques to recover lost lives, we might from the shape of those lost lives then discern the shapes of other lives, previously invisible to us, and recover those as well--and so on and so forth. And that therefore we might hope one day to return to life all those who had ever lived and died, to rescue them from their long sleep.”

Will laughed. “Are you so impatient for the day of judgement?”

I smiled. “Nothing like that, I assure you. We don’t judge, Will. We don’t condemn. We don’t pick and choose, either. We intend to resurrect the good and the bad alike. The deserving and the undeserving. Those great and those petty, those high-minded and those mean. Our labor, which we grant might never be completed, is not to play God, and to ensure each man receives his deserved fate, but only to redeem. Without preference or favor. There is only one restriction we place on ourselves.

“And what’s that?”

“We don’t bring back people who, according to our reconstruction, would prefer not to exist. There are some who suffered greatly before their death, whose suffering can be amended, whose hearts can be made whole. But there are some who, we know, prefer to sleep. We study them, to understand them, but we do not bring them unwilling back into the world. That would be a great cruelty. We create--or recreate--no life which would, we think, prefer not to exist. And for those about whom we are uncertain, we bring them back only long enough to ask them. Which is why you are here.”

Will looked surprised at this. “If you have such power over life and death, why not make everyone want to live?”

“Because then they wouldn’t be themselves.”

“But you don’t know that they’re themselves. You don’t even know for sure that you’re not just… writing new books. Writing new stories, weaving new tapestries, that have nothing to do with the old ones. If your machines are wrong, if your philosophy in error, perhaps you are only raising up new ghosts who remember a fiction.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “Would you like to know my thoughts on the matter?”

“Certainly.”

“Then I believe this: that it doesn’t matter. If you are exactly like Will Long of Kent in every particular, it may even be that our philosophy is in complete error and that there is some vital spark, some privileged point of view, which the old Will Long bore in himself and which was extinguished on his death; and that any vital spark you possessed, any point of view you hold, is but another very like it. Yet please believe me when I say that there are very good reasons to believe that that is not the case, reasons which are not beyond your capacity for understanding, but which nevertheless are beyond the learning you possess right now.

“Yet even if it is not so--that you are unlike Will Long in some little particular, or unlike him in very great ways, such that you are simply a new person who shares his name and is inclined to produce poetry in a similar style--you nonetheless think and feel and act according to your own preferences and desires, and that we must respect those preferences and desires. And to wantonly interfere with them--to insist that every soul we call forth must share our preference for existing, and our view of the world--would indeed be arrogance. You might not be the old Will Long, but you are a Will Long, and worthy of our respect.”

This seemed to satisfy him. “But have you never found your mathematics to be in error? Have you never had to revise them? Does this never change how you might weave the threads together?”

“It can happen,” I said. “We do not need to bring forth the soul entirely to understand it; they can be studied while they sleep. But those of us who do guide the souls we call forth have a pragmatic view of things. Were we to discover, say, some new poem of Will Long’s, we would incorporate that into what we knew about you. If it only changed our view of you a little, it would hardly be worth recreating you. Though we might ask you if you wanted that knowledge incorporated into yourself, which we could do. But if it changed how we understood you drastically, it might be worth it to create another Will Long. But that would have no affect on you. The world is very wide now. There is space for many people like you, and each adds their own particular distinction and joy to it.

“But this rarely happens. We have long since ceased to die of mere old age; the world is full of what would seem to you like miracles. And for thousands of years before the calling-forth of souls began, we were laying the groundwork for the great project, studying history in every minutia, compiling great libraries of information, libraries greater than any you have imagined. It is not impossible that we might discover some new information we have long overlooked, but it is a rare thing. Though I cannot say it is impossible.”

“And you want to know if I… accept this?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know my answer?”

“It was one of the very few things we could not determine in advance.”

Will was quiet for a long time.

“What happens if I say no?”

“You can lie down and go back to sleep. This strange little dream will fade. We’ll keep a record of you, and use it to help further our studies, but you’ll never be called forth again. We’ll never disturb or trouble you, and you can await the end of days, or whatever comes after, in a dreamless slumber.”

“And if I say yes?”

“Then you have another choice to make. What life do you want to live? You can stay here, in the place that was your home in life. Or you can step out into the world.”

“What’s it like out there?”

“It’s hard to explain. It would require a long, slow transition, unless you were very adamant about going out immediately; but I must warn you, others have done that, and found it very trying. The world is full of many wonderful things, but also many unfamiliar perils. You have little of the background knowledge required to understand it; and those who live there see things very differently than you do. But if you are curious and generous of spirit, you can adapt.

“We are all human out there, after our fashion, though we might not seem it at first. In some ways our various lineages long ago diverged, to say nothing of the ones, like mine, that began within the machines built to understand the universe. But we remain united by certain common sentiments and hopes which are not alien to you.”

“What if I wish to remain? What is this place, anyway?”

“An illusion of information. A kind of dream, perhaps, but one inhabited by very real people, like yourself. You can stay here, and we can give you a light and pleasant dream of your life forever, if you want. Or we can link your simulation to the simulations of others like you, so that you are not alone.”

“How long have I to decide?”

“As long as you like. There’s no hurry.”

“That’s a relief.”

He looked out the window at the stars.

“Tell me, if you know. I have always wondered. What are those, anyway, out there in the sky? What are they made of?”

“They are suns like our own. Immense lights that warm distant worlds.”

“Have you visited those lights and those worlds?”

I smiled. “We have. Truth be told, you are around one now. The machines that support you here, in this state, hang high in the sky above one we call Van Maanen’s Star.”

“How far away is England?”

“About eighty-two thousands of a thousand of a thousand of a thousand miles.”

“Could… could I go back if I wished? As myself?”

“Of course. It would be a long journey, but by no means impossible. But Kent is very different now than when you left it.”

“Could I visit other worlds?”

“You certainly could. There are enough peopled worlds that you could spend the rest of your life visiting them.”

“And how long will that be? How long is the rest of my life, if I say yes?”

I shrugged. “If you avoid sudden misfortune, or if you choose to make copies of yourself as some do, you can reasonably expect that you, or a Will Long very much like you, will live to see the youngest stars that now blaze grow old and lonely in the sky. Which would be a very, very long time from now.”

Will stared out the window for several minutes; I did not interrupt his reverie. This was a conversation I had had many times; it was never quite the same, except that this moment usually came sooner or later. Sometimes it lasted hours. Sometimes it lasted years. I was happy to wait. But Will’s answer came astonishingly quickly.

“I’ve made my decision.” There was a bright, joyful gleam in his eyes.

“Very well. What have you decided?”

He pointed out the window. “I want to go out there. I don’t want to wait. I want to see what’s changed. I want to understand this strange world you have spoken of to me. And maybe to write new lines on what I see.”

“Then so it shall be. And many will be glad to hear this happy news.”

I stood, and drew back the sleeve of my robe, and stretched my hand out. “Come, Will. Take my hand.”

Will’s hand grasped mine, and I pulled him up, up out of the bed, and out of the room we were in, and out of the cool, clear evening that surrounded it; like swimmers rising to the surface, we rose up into the warmth and light beyond.

[splendidlyimperfect]

When Natsu's morning commute gets interrupted by a cute guy helping a turtle cross the road, Natsu thinks it'll just be a funny story to tell later. But then Sting shows up at Natsu's café, with his cute accent and sweet smile, and Natsu starts to fall in love a bit. Which wouldn't be a problem, except that Natsu already loves Gray. Then Natsu introduces them, and Gray starts falling too.

Sting's always been easily infatuated - with the cute air steward, the scuba instructor, the pretty guy at the grocery store - but he's never loved anyone other than Rogue. So when Sting meets Natsu and Gray and starts to feel like maybe this time, the infatuation is more than just a crush, he's not sure what to do, even when Rogue feels the same way.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairings: Gray/Natsu, Sting/Rogue, Gray/Natsu/Sting/Rogue Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aged-Up Character(s), Polyamory, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Crushes, Black Character(s), Character(s) of Color, Accents, Fluff, Flirting, First Kiss, Relationship Negotiation, Sting and Rogue have accents and Gray and Natsu can't handle it, Dorks in Love, they're all such awkward flirts, and they're so gay for each other

“Something’s holding up traffic, I’m probably gonna be late for work.”

Natsu yawned, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel of the car and peeking out the window as he talked to Gray over the Bluetooth. Hythe Street wasn’t usually backed up this early in the morning, but they were at a standstill right now, and horns were starting to blare around him.

“What’s going on?” Gray’s voice was quiet, and Natsu could barely hear him over the sounds of traffic.

“I have no id--”

“Get the fuck off the road!” someone shouted. Natsu frowned, seeing the man in the car in front of him press on his horn as he yelled. “Some of us have places to be!”

“Jesus,” Natsu grumbled, leaning curiously out the window. “Chill, dude.”

“Is there an accident?” Gray asked.

"Don’t think so,” Natsu said. There was an SUV turned sideways across both lanes – now that he was paying attention, Natsu could see that oncoming traffic was blocked too. There were no sirens, though, and nobody appeared to be hurt.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Angry guy was shouting again, and Natsu leaned further out the window. He could just see a head of blond hair moving toward the SUV, and as the figure got closer, Natsu realized it was a guy about his age. He was moving awkwardly in a crouch, steadfastly ignoring the shouts and blaring horns.

Shit, he’s cute, Natsu thought, taking in the man’s dark tan and bright pink shirt. As he leaned further out the window, Natsu suddenly realized that the man was helping a turtle cross the street. He wasn’t touching it, just guiding it through the traffic, and Natsu nearly cried at the sight.

“Is everything okay?” Gray asked.

“Gods, yeah,” Natsu said quietly, watching the turtle. “I think I’m in love.”

Continue reading on AO3

[pappycat89]

Couldn’t sleep so wrote a story to go between sessions of a D&D game thats not happening anymore Y_Y. This would have taken place between the last session and the next. 

The moon hung lazily in the night sky, its light shining dimly through the windows of the train. The passenger car around him was barely lit, but Leto had no trouble seeing thanks to his darkvision, one of the benefits of his Drow heritage, though his eyes were stuck on the moon. He had always liked looking at the moon. There was something about its gentle glow on a clear night that helped him center his thoughts, and he could use all the help he could get right now.

He and his companions had just left the town of Brigmoor, a solemn town besieged by a miasma of melancholy, where they had fought a myriad of undead creatures and cultists. The undead he could deal with; after all, he was a budding necromancer and had thrown his lot in the the god of death. What troubled Leto so much about the town they had just left was the feelings it had brought out in him. The entire town seemed to emanate sadness. It had hung like a fog over the town, seeping into the cracks and crevices, and had affected him far more then the would have liked.

A movement in his lap snapped him out of his reverie. Hello, his young kenku company, had shifted in her sleep. He smiled, stroking her head and making a small soothing coo at her. Though he still didn’t know the child very well, he had unofficially adopted her. He chuckled at the thought, sure that his other companions, Arden and Pipri both felt the same way. 

He gazed down at her sleeping face, and his smile slowly melted away. He couldn’t help but feel for her. She was so young to have suffered so much at the hands of her previous ‘Owner’. Like all Kenku, Hello could only mimic what she heard, and had often repeated insults and abuse that had been hurled her way. She had escaped her abuser, only to be thrust into what Leto saw as a cruel world which never pulled its punches. So he had decided that as long as she would allow it, he would protect her. 

His gaze wandered around the room, passing over the sleeping forms of his companions. To his left lay Arden, a human paladin, lying on his back, hands folded to his chest. It was a pose Leto had seen a lot, one Arden tended to assume whenever he had to stand still. As he watched, Arden suddenly changed position, rolling sleepily into what looked to be the most uncomfortable side scrunch imaginable, but with a tiny snore, Adren was deep asleep once more.  Just like Arden, Leto thought. He seemed so stoic and stiff on the outside, tough as nails and impossible to read, and then the facade cracks, showing the genuine person underneath. The cold exterior Leto understood, after all, Arden was from Coldlight, who’s people were notoriously frosty, but he had to admit that he much preferred the softer side to Arden.  Arden was a man out of time, having spent centuries guarding a sacred tree, many of those alone. Though he lacked a lot of knowledge about the modern world, that didn’t mean he was naive. Arden gave off an air of trust, which Leto honestly found disconcerting. His upbringing didn’t lend itself well to trusting anyone not of his house, and his brief stint as a thief had further taught him that only con-men gave of such vibes, which would have been easy to deal with, but what he felt from Arden was different. it was solid, dependable. And it would take time to get used to.

To his right lay Pipri, a gnome rogue, in what would could only be called a slump. Somehow the position Pipri had fallen asleep in somehow looked like someone had thrown a shirt onto a bed haphazardly, yet also like a cat had very gracefully lay itself in the perfect sleeping position, which was so like Pipri Leto had to struggle to keep from laughing aloud. Since meeting him, Leto had found Pipri to be an odd fellow. He could be rakish, dismissive and a smart-ass, but was also witty, deeply intelligent and seemed reluctantly caring. Leto quite enjoyed watching Pipri verbally spar with Arden, and quite liked the former's’ quick wit. he had surprised himself with how worried he had been about Pipri when he had found that harlequin mask in Brigmoor. Something had seemed to possess Pipri, calling themself Quen. Since they had left Brigmoor, they hadn’t shown themself again, and Pipri had seemed his normal self, though understandable put off by the whole thing, so Leto had put the thoughts to the side, deciding to worry about it later. For now though, he was just glad that Pipri seemed alright.

He once more surveyed the room, taking in the sights and sounds of sleep. He found it odd to be surrounded by these people. They were all, in their own ways, broken. He could feel it, like looking as pieces of a puzzle. None seemed to fit together, but you could see they were all part of the same set. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, that if they were all similarly broken, then maybe they could belong together. 

Either way he was glad to have people with him, especially with what the future brought. They were headed to The Bazaar, the largest trade city in Hythe, and a city filled with Letos past.  Letos family, House Caladar, had once been in charge of the section of the city owned by the Drow, and honor handed out by the Drow Queen. Whichever House held the trading contracts controlled the flow of goods from this side of the world into the Drow captial, and thus was a very sought after commission. Managed properly, the contracts could bring both power and money to those that held them, and if managed benevolently, could benefit many others as well.

But envy, greed and hatred drew enemies to the Caladars like honey drew flies, and an attack upon his family compound had left House Caladar in tatters. Leto, his mother and his youngest sister had been all to survive. His father and elder of his two sister had been killed, and all those that worked for his House had either been killed or taken prisoner. 

Leto shuddered as thoughts of those he had lost sent chills down his spine. The movement disturbed Hello, who cooed curiously at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “Its alright Hello,” He said gently, “Go back to sleep.” She shuffled closer , wrapping her blanket tighter around her. He heard a gentle “Back to sleep” chirping back at him in his own voice, and felt Hello drift back off to sleep. His gaze traveled once more to the moon, which had started to fade from view as dawn crept closer. He sighed, a mix of anxious anticipation and tentative contentment. It was going to be a long day...

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