#lahabrea x azem

[keicordelle]

Enmeshed in the Chains of Ardor's Embrace

FFXIV | Lahazem | Explicit | 6128 polyamory, love confessions, office sex

One night together. That's all it was supposed to be. A concession by Emet-Selch, to allow his lover even that much. So why was Azem still here, with his tongue tangled with Lahabrea’s and his hardened cock digging into his groin? Why was he still pursuing him, when he had gotten what he wanted? What more could he possible want from him? A lot, as it turns out.

Another commission for Autumntidal_Storm! A follow up to their last com, The Alternative Uses of Aetherial Shackles. Once was simply not enough for Eros, and honestly, who can blame him?

My ficlet commissions are open through kofi, and if you're interested in a longer piece like this, send me a message and we can talk!

-

Azem's tongue pushed its way into Lahabrea's mouth, hot and eager and needy as it slid against his own. Hands curled in the fabric of his robes, his ears filled with the heavy panting of their breath. Hips ground against his, pressing him into the wall, body flush with his own. Teeth dragged across his lower lip, before that tongue swept back into his mouth, stealing away his breath. Demanding more. Heavy lidded eyes watched him, seafoam green turned emerald by desire.

Lahabrea kissed him back just as fiercely, a low groan rising in his throat and muffled on Azem's lips. His hand curled in his hair, fluffy auburn locks crushed between his fingers, forcing his head to tip further and deepen the kiss. Azem made a noise of approval, a pleased grin tightening his lips, and Lahabrea nipped at him, silently commanding that he soften. That he let Lahabrea in to sweep through his mouth in turn.

The distant sounds of the Capitol filtered through Lahabrea's ears, almost lost beneath the rough panting of their breath. Azem had dragged him away after the meeting, some false line about security measures within Pandaemonium dripping from his lips as he smiled and waved at their comrades before pulling him into this deserted hallway.  Scarcely more private than the forum, but somehow, Lahabrea couldn't find it in himself to care. Not with Azem's body pressed to his and his tongue down his throat.

A common enough occurrence, these last few weeks. If Lahabrea did not know what held him here, he might wonder what grand plot could be so important as to keep him tethered to Amaurot for so long. As it was, he was familiar - intimately familiar - with the cause of his extended stay, which had rather a lot to do with the tongue currently laying claim to the insides of his mouth.

[Read the rest on Ao3!]

[asteriasfallingstarsandtears]

Some more Athena and Asteria stuff, when Athena made the decision to pursue Asteria and a peak into her mind of what drives her.

Athena studied under Phoebe, Asteria's creator/mother, and from her learned how to manipulate the soul which drove her to create Pandaemonium and seek to ascend beyond the mortal realm.

[ishgard]

Thoughts been swirling around today about Kira/Aphrodite and her relationship with Lahabrea. (～￣▽￣)～

So I'm gonna slap 'em down to keep track of later or else they'll get lost in the brain sauce. Still a WIP though. (This is also an excuse to use my old OG Lahabrea face from ARR-era. - w -)

Gist is Aphrodite and Hephaestus go way back and were lovers for a time, until their duties as Lahabrea and Azem began to put more distance between them and then... well, Lahabrea met Athena.

I think even before that point they had a somewhat more open relationship, because Aphrodite also had an on-again, off-again, 'it's complicated' relationship with Ares (Zenos), I just haven't figured the exact time frame of it all yet and if any of it 'clashes'.

But regardless, he broke things off with her, much to his later regret, lol. I imagine she had some strong opinions about it/had a bad vibe from Athena, but couldn't say much or else she'd come across as the jealous ex. :''D (And in light of the Igeyorhm was his cousin thing, I chuckle to imagine her scolding him over something similar, too.)

As for how things might have panned out in post-Athena years, I'm less clear on yet. :|a

Fast forward to modern times though, and Kira is the adopted daughter of a Garlean noble (who he ultimately uses to spy, seduce, and get information from others with). She has no idea Emperor Solus is even aware of her existence, really, but he is very much aware of Azem's soul shard moving around close to him.

I'm not sure yet if he purposefully invited Lahabrea because he thought something along the lines of: 'Okay, this guy is burning the candle at both ends, maybe if he meets "Azem" it'll ground him a little' - or if it was less pointed than that. Or if it was just a pure happenstance meeting.

But either way they did meet, and proceeded to have a whirlwind Very Complicated romance (more on that later I think) that will lead to Very Complicated outcomes once she's WoLing it up. ^^;

[riceballgremlin]

[myreia]

Sketches of Times Lost

Day 06: Halcyon

an invitation sent, an summons answered—igeyorhm gets more than she bargained for. female azem x igeyorhm. endwalker spoilers + pandaemonium spoilers. written for ffxivwrites2024. rating: explicit. tags: explicit sexual content, seduction, strip tease, voyeurism, many many amaurotine headcanons 5424 words ao3 link rip to every debate team kid out there, i'm sorry rip to my brain for having to write igeyorhm 40 times and, like the formatting of a tumblr post, not getting it right on the first try once

Nothing ever happens in Amaurot.

That is Igeyorhm’s opinion. She has lived in the capital for countless centuries, and now she is quite certain that it is the prettiest, but blandest place on the Star.

Some would argue this is a good thing. Amaurot is a halcyon bastion of perfect paradise, cultured, peaceful, and pristine. It is a city safe from harm, safe from disaster, the crown jewel of their society and culture. Outside its walls, there may be mayhem and chaos, but here life is peaceful. Wonderful. Kind. Slow. Time to learn, time to live. Time to perfect that which isn’t and preserve that which is.

Boring. Dull.

She would not wish for chaos upon anyone, but some days she finds herself yearning for change. She may very well lose her mind without it—a poor look for the Rhetorician and auditor of knowledge and logic and reason. She is supposedly the cleverest of the Convocation, though she often does not feel like it. That title belongs to her cousin, the current holder of the office of Lahabrea. Clever, brilliant, bold. He is much older than her, but age means little after the first few centuries.

She sighs, casting a glance across the terrace. Like all members of the Convocation, her home occupies a penthouse suite in one of the tallest buildings in the city. Beautiful, airy, with a garden terrace open to the sky. This is where she passes her time when she is not in office. Her garden is lush, filled with vibrant and exciting plants and flowers, some unofficial creations passed to her by Halmarut to keep things interesting. A sunken rectangular pool sits as the focal point, filling the centre. Her favourite divan sits near the edge, surrounded by half-shelves stuffed with books. Her formal library is on the floor below, but she has been slowly moving more and more of it outside.

Igeyorhm purses her lips and turns a page of her book. It is a gorgeous day—a clear, cloudless sky, the sun high and bright, a pleasant breeze in the air. She should be content.

And yet…

She glances at the chronometer on the wall, rapping dark fingers against her seat. Fifteen past the bell. She’s not going to come after all…

The invitation was an impulsive decision. Azem is recently returned to the capital, and gods know she has better things to do than entertain the dullest Convocation member. Hermes’ inauguration as Fandaniel is on the horizon. He is still recovering from whatever disaster happened with Kairos and an investigation into the malfunctioning machine is underway. Emet-Selch has a hole in his memory, which does nothing for his demeanour. Lahabrea is handling that mess in Pandaemonium. And apparently a stray or feral familiar belonging to Azem has been running about Elpis, though she has said nothing of it nor has she claimed it as her own.

Igeyorhm would have very much liked to see it. But here she is, stuck in Amaurot with her books and her rhetoric, doing nothing.

She admires Azem. Tall, strong, witty, clever—she is striking and she knows it. Unlike so many others on the Convocation, she has never been one to bend to tradition, going about her duties in her own way as she sees fit. The last time she came back from a long journey she came very close to being asked to forfeit her seat. Her journeys across the Star led her to many new places, and to meet many new peoples. It is her duty to give hear their stories and give them counsel.

For one in particular, her counsel was a little too close.

Children are rare among Amaurotines. Child created the organic way, so to speak, even more so. Her dalliance with a non-Amaurotine could have ended her career had she not been a force to be reckoned with. As her brother, Emet-Selch was more furious than the rest, though even he could not bring himself to punish her for her trespasses. Her child was born some time ago, though as Igeyorhm understands it, she is being raised far away from the capital.

Azem terrifies her. Fascinates her. How dearly she would love to learn from her example—to commit wholeheartedly to one’s way of life without suffering the fear of shame. She has tried, but she can’t bring herself to do it. She is cold, aloof. Private. Standoffish. Others have noticed. Others have commented.

This is the way she is. The Rhetorician, with the heart of ice.

Metal scrapes against metal and the lift arrives.

Igeyorhm rises from her seat, shocked as Azem emerges from behind the golden grate and enters the terrace. She is gorgeous today—as she is every day. Though her robes are of an Amaurotine style, they have been adjusted and tweaked, creating a lavish outfit of flowing silks belted at the waist. She has forgone the classic black for soft oranges and yellows; together with her pale hair and her glowing orange eyes, she looks very much like a sunset. Her mask sits comfortably on her face, obscuring the hint of high cheekbones and an aquiline nose.

She moves with such determined grace Igeyorhm isn’t sure if she is making up for time lost or if this is simply how she is.

“Azem,” she says in greeting, bowing politely. Her unbound hair hangs about her, shading her face with a curtain of blue-black curls.

Azem laughs and crosses the terrace, sweeping her into her arms. “So formal,” she says, kissing her on either cheek. Her lips are as soft as silk. She smells of citrus and flowers and something Igeyorhm cannot place. “May we do away with titles for today? My head is already spinning and I haven’t yet met with the Convocation.”

Igeyorhm swallows the lump in her throat. Though their names are known to each other, it’s the principle of the thing. “Wine?” she asks, gesturing to a gilded decanter on a nearby table.

Her sunset eyes sparkle. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

Igeyorhm pours the wine and hands it to her, retreating quickly to her divan. She sits on the edge and plucks her own glass from the ground, sipping quietly, the awkward silence pressing in on her. Azem does not seem to mind. Nothing seems to bother her. “I’m glad you have returned,” she says.

“A fair amount has happened in my absence, I see.” She perches at the edge of the pool and folds her legs beneath her, taking a sip of wine. “I have yet to speak with my brother. Hythlodaeus tells me he is in a… distraught state, shall we say.”

“Emet-Selch is often distraught.”

“He is. I fear my brother is wound too tight to be anything but distraught.”

Igeyorhm pauses. “Did you enjoy your time away from the capital?” she ventures cautiously. Gods, why is she stalling? She seems incapable of having a normal conversation with her that doesn’t amount of anything but meaningless small talk.

Azem smiles that soft, mysterious smile of hers and sets down her wine. Rising to her feet, she sweeps across the terrace, her vibrant sunset robes whispering around her. She reaches the wall and leans against it, turning her face westward towards Akadaemia Anyder. The light catches her hair, bleeding through the pale gold, setting her profile ablaze. She is not the flames of creation—no, that domain belongs still to Lahabrea—but she is the fire of the sun. Bright, enduring, eternal, and endlessly alluring. Stare too long and you will find yourself blinded.

Fire and ice are opposed. They cannot mix. One will always overpower the other.

Igeyorhm cups her drink in her hands, staring into the glass as she swirls the deep red liquid about. “Tell me honestly,” she says quietly. “Why come here, Azem? I know it wasn’t for the wine.”

“It could be for the wine. You have exquisite taste.”

“Thank you, but answer me truly.”

“Because you asked me to.”

“You could have refused my invitation. Many do.”

“Very rude of them.”

She flushes. “It was a last minute decision, you were under no obligation to say yes. Not when the Convocation gathers tomorrow. We could have met then.”

“And avoid the fun of sipping wine on your beautiful terrace and enjoying the pleasant weather?” She pauses, her gaze lingering on the institution in the distance. “But even if you had not invited me, is it so unusual for a friend to call upon a friend?”

“You consider me a friend?” The words are out before she realizes she has spoken.

Azem throws her head back and laughs. “Igeyorhm, what is in that ice-cold heart of yours that gave you that impression? How many years have we known each other?”

“I could not say. Knowing is different than friendship, is it not?”

“True.”

“And you have never sought to call on me in private before.”

“Our positions are quite distanced. Rhetoric and debate on one side, counsel and pilgrimage on the other.”

“Hardly. I do not believe they are that different. One could argue they are the same.”

Finally, Azem tears herself away from the view. She leans her back against the wall and turns her gaze on Igeyorhm, those intense orange-gold eyes burning into her from even this distance. “You think so?” she says, arching an eyebrow from behind her mask. “Then let’s play a game.”

“A game?”

“A game of debate. Put your texts aside, Igeyorhm. Take your nose out of your books. Let us have a sparring match. The winner receives a boon.”

Igeyorhm wets her lower lip. Her heart is thundering. “What kind of boon?”

“A gift. From me to you, or you to me. Whatever our heart’s desire.”

The pool ripples in the wind, its water lapping against the edge. To Azem, the sound must be negligible. But to Igeyorhm it beats like a drum pounding with the rhythm of her heart. “And who will be the judge? I cannot conceive of asking Elidibus here.”

Azem snorts, a grin spreading from ear to ear. “No, no,” she says, chuckling with mirth. “Please, no. Open the floor to Elidibus and soon you will have the whole Convocation gathered on your terrace, fast-tracking our session from tomorrow to today.”

Igeyorhm smiles. She loops a curl behind her ear, her fingers brushing her mask. “I would hate to see that. Not even my cousin has been extended an invitation.”

“He does not come here, then?”

“Even if I opened my doors to him, he would seldom have the time to visit. That sour business in Pandaemonium still weighs on him.”

Azem says nothing. Silence presses heavily on them both, the weight of the words sapping the levity from the room. Then she shakes her head, her pale gold hair rippling over her shoulders, raises a hand, and snaps.

A small fire familiar pops into existence. It is vaguely humanoid in shape with butterfly-like wings sprouting from its back. Green and orange flames lick along its sides, curling into some semblance of hair as embers trail off it and dissipate into the air. It floats gently above the pool, whistling with glee as it bobs up and down.

“Oh, stop that,” Azem says, giving it a sharp look. “Keep that up and I will send you back.”

The familiar makes a wheezing sound.

Azem’s lips twitch, trying to hide a smile. “Vesta will be our judge. It will make the calls, unless one of us calls to concede.”

Igeyorhm raises her chin. “And how am I to know it will be impartial?”

“You can’t. You will have to trust me.” Pushing off the wall, Azem crosses the terrace to settle on the end of Igeyorhm’s divan. She leans in close and whispers conspiratorially in her ear. “That’s the fun in it.”

The proximity of her presence sends an enticing shiver rolling down her spine. “And the loser?” she asks. By the Star itself, how she wishes Azem would unmask. She is the sole member of the Convocation whose face she has not seen. What does she look like beneath it? Is she as beautiful as her grace would suggest? “In the halls of debate, the winner may be rewarded with congratulations and cheer, but it is common practice for those who do not to denote their failure. If we are to play this game in the spirit of my domain, surely there must be some punishment.”

“Punishment?” Azem reaches for her glass of wine. “You certainly enjoy an escalation—”

“Penalty, then. Consequence, if you prefer. Or shall I keep digging through synonyms until I find one that appeases you?”

She chuckles and takes a drink. “What should this punishment-penalty-consequence be?”

Igeyorhm drums her fingers against her chin, lost in thought. The idea forming in her mind is… bold. Unlike her. Its out-of-character nature only makes her want to suggest it more. “The removal of one’s mask,” she says archly. “If we are friends, then surely we see one another exposed.”

Azem pauses. She takes another drink. “Done.” The wine has stained her lips red. “Then shall we begin?”

The rules of debate are simple: assert your thesis, defend it, and find the logical fallacies in your opponent’s. Argument and counterargument are etched into the building blocks of Amaurotine society; even from the earliest age, they are taught to defend reason. Theirs is a culture that prides itself on logic and wisdom, settling disputes with words and discussion first and warfare and combat second. Regardless of what Nabriales argues, as custodians of the Star, it is their solemn duty to protect it, not to sunder it apart.

Rhetoric and debate is oft considered the least impressive of any Amaurotine art. In a society of well-spoken individuals, being articulate and eloquent with words means very little. It is not enchanting like Altima’s compositions, nor beneficial to society like Deudalaphon’s inventions. It does not heal like Emmerololth’s medicinal practices, nor does it create like Lahabrea’s phantomology. But to shift the mind, convince others to see the way you do—it is a delicate art, powerful in its subtleness. And no amount of spellbinding creation magicks can turn one into a powerful orator.

It is not typical for Igeyorhm to become stuttering and tongue-tied. On most days, she is cool and clear and succinct—when she has time to prepare, she can shift the direction of the Convocation with just a few words. Debate is an art easily learned, but difficult to master, and its strength cannot be underestimated. Each member of the fourteen could claim to be an orator, but none of them have expertise. Her own cousin is too frank and blunt. Emet-Selch has yet to understand the role charm plays. Elidibus is too young, and his seat requires him to be impartial. Only Azem’s erstwhile mentor, Venat, understood the power speech can hold and how to wield it. Who else could convince the Convocation that she would not return to the Star upon her retirement?

With the right words, anyone can be convinced of anything.

“The floor is yours, Azem,” Igeyorhm says, leaning back casually on the divan. The movement tugs at the neckline, pulling at the neckline, exposing her collarbone. She hooks an arm over the back, running her fingers across the rich embroidery. “Your opening statement?”

“Already?” Azem brushes her long hair over her shoulder. “I admit I was not prepared to begin. Perhaps you should take the lead.”

Igeyorhm smirks. This coy display is an attempt to disarm her, convince her to take to the stage first out of kindness. Azem must know as certainly as she does that those who speak first are often the ones to lose. “This is my house,” she says. “It is my honour to go second. Your opening statement?”

Azem catches her eye. “Should I stand?” she asks, already rising to her feet. “I have been gone for some time, I’m uncertain of proper procedure.”

“If you wish.” Igeyorhm looks her up and down, lingering on the way her robes hug her curves. Her travels beyond Amaurot is etched on her body; it shows in the bare arms corded with muscle, in the strength of her legs, in the confident preciseness of her movements.

Azem cocks her head, a little smile on her lips, and bows theatrically. “Our seats are of opposing nature,” she says. “I am a traveller. I see the Star for what it is beyond the narrow walls and minds of Amaurot. Yours is the reverse—embracing the uniformity, upholding the status quo. Your rhetoric is not designed to bring change, but to uphold existing laws without question. I look outwards, whereas you look in.”

I don’t disagree with that. Not that she can say it aloud. “But as you travel, you offer guidance to the people, no?” she counters. “What is the difference between guidance and rhetoric? To give counsel is to convince. The wisdom you impart persuades them to your side, to your point of view. In that way, our seats are the same.”

“Hm.” Azem’s smile widens. She raises her cup. “What does Vesta think?”

The familiar’s flames hiss and whistle and it performs a little loop in the air, pointing a fiery finger at Igeyorhm.

“Ah. You are the winner, I see.”

Igeyorhm blinks. Over already? They had hardly begun. Her win is deflating, not satisfying. “Victory, then,” she says. Her nails scratch the divan’s embroidery, catching on the fine threads. “You do not have to keep to arbitrary rules made in jest—”

The familiar whirs.

Azem arches an eyebrow. “Oh, I see,” she says, tracing a finger absently over her belt. “Vesta says it should be the best out of three. To give me a fair chance, naturally. I am arguing against the Amaurot’s finest orator, after all.”

Igeyorhm pauses, mesmerized by the movement of Azem’s hands. The way her long fingers trace the bright brass, then float across the gossamer silks, gentle yet firm. This is no longer a game. They are vying for something, but it isn’t the prestige of their seats. “Even if it is best out of three, you have still lost this round,” she breathes, her voice low. “I believe you owe me something.”

Fingers against fabric. Twisting. Pulling. Touching. “Not my mask. Not yet.”

“Then something else.”

Water laps against the edge of the pool, gentle and pulsing.

Azem smiles and unclasps her belt, letting it fall to the floor. The silks fan out around her and grasps the overlayer, drawing it up and over her head.

Igeyorhm inhales a sharp breath, a rush of heat coursing through her. Azem is pale beneath her robe—her breasts full and round, her skin marked with a flash of stretch marks and a silvery scar on her side. Beneath the curves of fat, she is strong and firm. “Aye,” she rasps. “That will do.”

Azem tilts her head, her fingers toying with her skirt. The band sits low on her hips, the skirts flowing flush with the floor. “Defeat me again and I’ll lose another,” she murmurs, orange eyes blazing.

“Then it is my turn—” Igeyorhm exhales a breath, fingers now scraping against the embroidery. She rolls onto her side, her gaze drawn to Azem’s, and squeezes her thighs together. The pressure only inflames the desire blooming deep within her. “And I submit to you: the purpose of the Rhetorician is to gather knowledge. And so does the Traveller.”

“Is the knowledge gathered or is it hoarded?” Azem pulls her hair to the side, letting it flow over one shoulder and across her breast. Slowly, she slides a palm across her stomach. “With whom is it shared? Is it knowledge for all, or for the few who are worthy?”

“Knowledge is for all, but not all are for knowledge.”

“A nonsensical statement.” She cups her breast, squeezing the soft weight.

Igeyorhm muffles a strangled noise. Her skin prickles with heat. “The question at hand was not for whom knowledge is gathered, rather that it is. The Traveller guides the people of the Star, understand them, speak for them. The key to understanding is a knowledge itself.”

The little familiar whirs.

“And there we go—I have no choice but to accept defeat once again.” Azem smiles a hooks a thumb over her waistband. “I knew such games would lead to nothing good.”

She pushes her skirts down. Naked save for her mask, she steps out of the pool of bright fabric.

Igeyorhm grips the back of the divan. “I have won twice,” she breathes. “Care to challenge me a third time?”

Azem laughs quietly and pads across the cool floor. She throws out a hand, dismissing her familiar with a single gesture. It puffs out of existence like a candlelight snuffed. “I am amiable to a third,” she says, reaching the foot of the divan. She rests a knee against it, one hand caressing her breast. The other slides across her thigh. “But an addendum: this time, if I win, take off your mask. If I lose, I will remove mine.”

She exhales a trembling breath. “Yes.”

Azem smiles, that impossibly alluring smile. Her palm brushes her inner thigh. “There is a world unlike any other beyond this city,” she says, her fingers slipping between her legs. She exhales a soft breath, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheek as she sinks into her own desire. “The Rhetorician seeks to record it, to study it, to learn all they can from it.”

Igeyorhm’s eyes widen, lips parted as she watches. She is fascinated, enthralled, arousal rushing through her as she imagines what those fingers would feel like slipped between her own. Ignoring her clothing, she presses cups a hand against the space between her thighs, pleasure washing over her.

“But the Traveller…” Azem lets out a small moan, her gaze lingering on Igeyorhm. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes alight. “You would examine it from a distance, Igeyorhm. But I…” She sighs, bringing herself closer to the brink. “I would experience it for what it is.”

She trembles, bucking against her own hand. There are a hundred counters to this argument, each one better than the last. But her mind is a haze, muffled by desire for the woman at the foot of her divan, endlessly yearning for her touch.  

She could win, easily. But this time, she does not want to.

They have long since stopped arguing the merits and purpose of their Convocation seats.

And this is no longer a game.

“I concede,” Igeyorhm says. “I concede.”

Azem’s eyes blaze.

Igeyorhm meets her gaze—and nods.  

It happens in a rush. One moment, they are staring at each other, hearts pounding, the soft afternoon light warming Azem’s naked skin. The next, her weight sinks into the divan and her lips and hands are on her. Azem climbs on top of her and kisses her deeply, her tongue slipping between her lips to tangle in her mouth—she tastes of summer and wine. Her fingers tug at the straps of her mask; despite the rough pace of her kiss, her touch is gentle, reverent.

There is still a sense of propriety here.

“May I?” she murmurs, her voice muffled against her lips.

Igeyorhm nods. “Yes,” she breathes. “Please.”

The mask slips loose. Sunlight warms her skin, bright and pleasantly searing, like the woman who has her pinned to the divan. She pauses, thrown for a moment by the removal of its weight. It has been a long time since she has taken it off, even in private. She can’t remember the last time she took it off. She can’t remember the last time she saw her own face in a mirror with out it.

Azem places it carefully on the armrest. “There,” she says, stroking her fingers across Igeyorhm’s face. Her blazing eyes pass over her, lingering on the beauty mark on her cheek, the broad shape of her nose, the depths of her dark eyes. She brushes a lock of blue-black curls from her forehead and leans in close. “I win.”

She kisses her again and this time—oh, this time, she melts. Azem’s lips are everywhere—her brow, her cheek, her jaw, her mouth, her throat. She sucks at the delicateness of her collarbone, leaving wicked marks peppered and aching across her skin. Her mask is smooth and cool when it brushes unexpectedly against her, the sensation leaving a strange observation lingering in the back of her mind. They are reversed: Azem, naked yet retaining the sanctity of her mask, while Igeyorhm remains clothed but exposed, her features visible for the first time in an age.

Azem tugs at the neckline of her robe. “I owe you a boon,” she murmurs, voice muffled. Her head is buried in her neck, her mouth hot and warm as she kisses her throat. “Name it.”  

“I…” Words. She cannot think of the words. Gods damn it all, she is the bloody Rhetorician and she’s been knocked senseless. “I…”

“Name it, Metis.”

Her name, not her title. A wondrous shudder rolls through her—she is light-headed, hazy, and yet has never thought more clearly in her life. “Touch me.” Soft at first, then firm. Strong. A demand. She links Azem’s hands with her own and puts it on her breast. “Touch me. Kiss me. Do what you wish to me.”

Azem laughs, her breath rippling enticingly across her skin, and she squeezes her breast. She rolls off and stretches out beside her, tugging at her robes. Metis lies motionless, anticipation coiling deep within her as Azem pushes her skirts up and the weight of the robes pressing into her stomach. Her lover—lover is it, is it not?—strokes a hand across her thigh, slow and sure, and her legs fall open.

Her mouth covers hers, kissing hungrily and she swallows her gasp as her fingers slip easily into the slick heat.

If she returned to the Star right now, she would do so happily.

If she could float away in this haze of ecstasy and release all her responsibilities, she would.

If time could stop and this moment could last forever, she would welcome it.

A cry escapes her, soft, gentle, humming on her lips, and she closes her eyes, sinking blissfully into the cushions. Azem’s weight presses beside her, anchoring her to this moment. Her lips wander, her hands roam, touching, caressing, stoking the fire. Metis sighs, her back arching as two of those long, pretty fingers slip with her in a single stroke. They thrust, curl, slow and deep, coaxing pleasure out of her until she is shaking. She bucks her hips, chasing the sensation, demanding more—a demand her lover is happy to oblige.

Her lover laughs and presses a kiss to her brow. She slips her fingers free and with a quick shift of her weight, traps her hips and straddles her. Metis’ eyes fly open and she inhales a sharp breath, a protest on her tongue—

Azem presses a fingers to Metis’ lips, then to her own. She rolls her hips—a test, a challenge, her intense sunlike gaze lingering on every part of Metis’ face—and arches her back, raising her hands behind her head. She lifts the length of her hair and lets go, the curtain of pale gold-spun silk glowing in the midafternoon sun as it falls free.

Metis watches, enamoured, mesmerized. She cannot look away from this woman in the mask atop her.

“I…” The words will not come. She is breathless, weightless, her mind numb, her body yearning for an end. “Azem…”

She shakes her head. “Iphigeneia,” she murmurs. She yanks Metis’ skirts up to her stomach again, rougher and coarser this time, and slides a hand between them. “No titles here among friends.”

“…friends…?”

“What would you say we are?”

Her fingertip ghosts across her clit—feather-light and impossible—then presses firm against it.

A wave of pleasure crashes through her.

Metis moans, chest heaving. Her hands tear at the divan, uselessly trying to find something to hold onto. She is too good, too much, too everything. Her thigh clench, muscles spasming as she draws nearing to her peak, an impatient whine fluttering on her lips. She is falling apart in Iphigeneia’s hands. Both of them are on her now, the fingers of one stroking her core with deliberate, tantalizing motions, the other working her clit in slow, languid, circles.

“Geneia,” she moans, too overcome to say the whole of her name. “Geneia, I—please…”

Sweat shimmers on Iphigeneia’s chest, her breasts, her stomach. Her mask catches the light, silver and white reflecting the light, its metallic surface so polished Metis could very well see her reflection within it. “This is good?” she asks huskily.

“I… yes…”

“What do you want? Would you like to let go? Or would you close you eyes and see where I can take you?”

She bites her tongue, wound so tight with desire she is close to snapping. “I… mhm.”

A small, little measly sound. She has never sounded so ineloquent.

Iphigeneia smiles.

Her orgasm ripples through her in, numbing her mind and soul. She cannot think, she cannot do, she cannot be—all she is, all she has become is the sensation coursing through her. Her name falls from her lips in a half-scream of joy, the syllables falling in a stuttering, helpless staccato through her gasps as she trembles and relaxes, her swollen cunt clenching around her fingers.

The tension courses through her again and again.

And again until there is nothing left in her.

When her mind clears, the fog of lasting pleasure hazing the fringes of her mind, she is lying limp and boneless on the divan beneath Iphigeneia’s comfortable weight. Her eyelids flutter open and she looks upon the golden sun burning bright above her—the flame that has done what none thought possible and melted the ice in her heart.

Her mask remains in place, safe and secure. If she had half a mind—which she currently does not—Metis would ask her to remove it. Seems silly not to, after what they have shared. There is nothing more intimate than this, save perhaps sharing one’s transformation.

Iphigeneia drapes herself over her, brushing her fingers across her cheek as she stares into her dark eyes. She brushes damp curls from her forehead. “Are you all right?” she asks quietly.

“I…” Metis trails off. “Mhm. Thank you.”

“You owe me a boon,” she continues, linking her hand with hers. She raises it to her lips and kisses the soft skin. The hand of a custodian. A librarian. An auditor. One who has never left Amaurot. “Since I have granted you yours, it’s only fair you return the favour.”

Metis strokes her other hand through her hair, enjoying the feel of the soft locks between her fingers. She lets it go, strand by strand, and brushes her fingertips across Iphigeneia’s collarbone, down her chest, across her breasts. She cups one gently. “Let me give it to you, if you want,” she murmurs throatily, her voice low.

Iphigeneia kisses her. “I am sated for now.”

Her stomach twists with disappointment. She isn’t quite done herself. Perhaps she can convince her otherwise…

“But for my boon,” Iphigeneia begins.

“Forget the boon,” Metis croons. “It was a jest—”

“I had something else in mind.”

“Very well. What is it?”

She meets her eyes. She takes a breath. “Your cousin is proving to be quite a hindrance and I am tired of it.” The shift in her tone from hazy bliss to cold and businesslike hits like a winter breeze. She is Iphigeneia no longer; Azem has returned in her full determined force. “I would ask for your help. I need to reach the lower floors of Akadaemia Anyder. To the Words of Lahabrea. There is something I need to see for myself and I would not have him interfere. And you have a way in that I do not.”

It is not quite a question. The words carry more command than a request.

Igeyorhm pauses. A command, not an ask—from a fellow Convocation member. There is something going on here, something she cannot put her finger on. Azem’s motives may be shrouded in mystery, but there must be a purpose behind it.

Nothing happens in Amaurot.

So, who is she to say no?

[xsezzie]

Requests - CLOSED! 12/12/2024

Mini fic requests are closed, but you can still request HCs or ramble ideas with me! :3

-

For the first time I’m going to try my hand at some longer requests that aren’t HCs. I’ve been stuck thinking of what to write since everyone has written it already.

Obviously since I can’t handle writing a full fic, here are some rules. 🤭

Please don’t expect it to be written within a week or two, I work full time 😭

The writing will be most likely 3-4 paragraphs, unless I really like the idea

Requires a lee, ler and a scenario/prompt (or an image, Sezzie loves those 😳)

I won’t write anything that doesn’t make me feel inspired. I have no obligation to write your fic.

Don’t spam me with asks wanting to know when it’ll be finished.

Fandoms I can write for are: Genshin Impact, Honkai Star Rail, Project Sekai, Hades, FFXIV, Granblue Fantasy, Obey Me

Will NOT be writing: Furry, x Reader, children, NSFW scenarios (romantic or suggestiveness is fine though)

Be kind 😌

Enjoy a general OTP list below (not for any reason or anything eheh) 👀

Pairings I adore 🥰

Alhaitham/Kaveh (Genshin)

Ayato/Thoma (Genshin)

Neuvillette/Wriothesley (Genshin)

Childe/Zhongli (Genshin)

Dr Ratio/Aventurine (HSR)

Dan Heng/Caelus (HSR)

Dan Heng/Jing Yuan (HSR)

Acheron & Aventurine (HSR, non-romantic)

Gallagher/Sunday (HSR)

Sunday & Robin (HSR, family not romantic lol)

WoL/G’raha Tia (FFXIV)

Emet-Selch/Hythlodaeus (FFXIV) (Maybe Azem too hehe)

Themis/Ericthonios (FFXIV)

Airi/Shizuku (Project Sekai)

Akito/Toya (Project Sekai)

Sandalphon/Lucio(Lucifer) (Granblue Fantasy)

Ororon/Ifa (Genshin Impact)

Mualani/Kinich (Genshin Impact)

Argenti/Boothill (HSR)

Characters (apart from anyone mentioned above) 🥰

Argenti, Luocha, Blade, Sampo, Gepard, Welt, Himeko, Asta, Topaz (HSR)

Clorinde, Navia, Shenhe, Raiden, Gaming, Aether, Furina, Faruzan, Tighnari, Cyno, Diluc, Albedo, Kaeya, Dehya, Baizhu, Eula, Kazuha, Mona, Nilou, Ningguang, Yelan (Genshin)

Satan, Levi, Belphie, Lucifer (Obey Me)

Emet-Selch, Hythlodaeus, Themis/Elidibus, Erithonios, Lahabrea, WoL/Azem (FFXIV)

MORE MORE JUMP!, Vivid BAD Squad (Project Sekai)

Gran, Narmaya, Cassius, Nehan, Seox, Feower, Anila, Payila (Granblue Fantasy)

This all being said, send whoever you like 🥰

[starrysnowdrop]

Reactions to Days Gone By, Days Yet to Come

Here are my reactions and thoughts about the encore side story from Tales From The Dawn, which you can read HERE before proceeding under the cut. Beware: MAJOR Endwalker spoilers ahead! Keep in mind that I’ll be discussing my own headcanons with my Azem, so if you don’t care about that, feel free to move along.

So I want to just say that this was the absolute best side story they’ve ever written so far! And because it’s also the one that the community voted on, it makes it even more special. I’ve re-read it twice already and I’m so beyond happy to have read this. I’m still crying from reading it and processing it all. In fact, they gave us so many little details about all our favorite Ancients that I’m eating it up!!

First of all, I LOVE that this is all from Hyth’s POV. It’s fantastic. Anyways, next we get a detail about Azem talking to Hyth about the fourteenth in a series of concepts helping with travel, and I NEED to know more!! What is it?? I have many questions about this one thing in particular. Then we have a brief appearance from Byregot himself in the form of Hyth’s secretary trying to stop him from leaving but I giggled at the fact that Hyth just ignores him and goes to do his own thing. This has such gremlin energy that is so perfect for Hyth, but I also giggle at the fact that this is exactly what Urania would do as well. The sibling vibes are over the top here and I love it.

Then we get a huge lore drop that I wasn’t expecting at all: Mitron is a woman!! Which means that Mitron and Loghrif are both women and with the tons of hint drops we have throughout the canon, I’m here to say I’m celebrating the lesbians today! In my head this is Mitron x Loghrif as confirmed as a lesbian couple as we are ever going to get, and I’m soooooo happy.

Next we get another lore drop, this time with Lahabrea and Igeyorhm, and we have confirmation that they are cousins! This makes so much sense now, as we already knew about them working closely with one another and then they joined together in their fight against WoL in Azys La. I was never a Lahabrea x Igeyorhm shipper, so having them be cousins makes way more sense to me. Nice to see someone scolding Lahabrea for all of his Pandaemonium shenanigans.

Then we get Elidibus and I just know all the Elidibus shippers are screaming with joy. Whether you are a Themis x Erich or a Themis x WoL shipper, you’ve been fed, and I’m happy for you all.

Skipping over the part where I’ll blab about forever (ahem Hermes and his existential dread ahem), we get yet another Emet smile as Azem departs on their journey!! Ahhhhhhhh my heart!!! I am so full of emotions with how Hyth talks about Emet here, and in the parts following this scene. No matter if you read Hyth x Hades x Azem as platonic or romantic, or if you romantically ship only one part of them or none at all, you can just feel how deeply Hyth, Hades, and Azem all love each other. I can feel the love coming out of the words and it’s absolutely tragic and beautiful. Especially when you find out that Emet was the one holding out till the last minute to not summon Zodiark until they received word from Azem. God my heart just shattered right there.

And we also get confirmation that Azem left the convocation in order to find the cause of the Final Days and to stop it without the sacrifice to Zodiark. This was my headcanon and it’s probably a headcanon many of you shared, so to see this confirmed as canon sparks joy. It’s absolutely perfect for Urania, although with the new information about Emet trying to have the Convocation wait until they heard from Azem, I will have to reconsider her departure from Amaurot and her feelings towards Hades and Hermes now that we have this new information.

Another tiny piece of detail also confirmed a headcanon I’ve held for years: Hyth and Hades are childhood friends! I’m so happy to see this be confirmed as canon.

Alright, I think I’ve held off long enough. It’s time to talk about Hermes.

So, overall I’m so goddamn happy that we got to have more Hermes in this short scene. Every little bit of him I can get I will gladly take it. And I especially love that we are getting to see the man who lived through the Kairos mind wiping and what he was like after all of it went down. And yet… I feel completely devastated for him.

He looks like a wreck, he’s buried into his work, and he’s also deep in mourning with no one around to understand him. He thinks he has killed Meteion and says he “murdered her”, and it is so upsetting to see him like that. He also I believe is discovering the beginnings of the Final Days and I think he somehow knows that there’s something else wrong, something that he should know and doesn’t remember, and it’s tearing him up. But it’s even more tragic when Hyth mentions that he and everyone else talks about the Kairos incident and the “death of Meteion” as an “amusing anecdote”, and mentions that no one talks about familiars as people, so it truly shows how utterly alone Hermes really is. My heart broke when Hyth says that after the loss of Meteion, Hermes never made another flying creation ever again, and god I just want to cry.

I do like how Hyth is trying to be a friend and get Hermes to rest, and he’s doing what he thinks will help him. But even with Hyth’s caring soul, he just can’t understand what Hermes is going through. And it’s such a tragedy. It reinforces that even Azem couldn’t help Hermes in his time: it’s not until the WoL can offer the answer to Amon of “next time we will find the answers together” that he finds a true friend that understands him. And yet Amon is only the sundered reincarnation of Hermes, not Hermes himself. And I’m sobbing in my room on a Thursday morning over it all.

Now more than ever do I want to write more for Hermes. Not just in the tragic canonverse, but for the Modern AU that I have brainworms for, and quite possibly in a Happy Ending AU for him… with maybe Hali shipping with him??? It’s just a thought.

Anyways, I think I’ve rambled on long enough. If you’ve survived reading all of this, I commend you and thank you wholeheartedly for doing so! If you have any further questions for me about any of my reactions, feel free to send me an ask or a message!! 🥰💖

[blucifer08]

Before I go to bed, here's some Elidibus headcanons I have. Some are related to my wol x Elidibus ship and some are not !

- I headcanon that Elidibus often struggles with feeling outside of his body. He may not body hop as much as Lahabrea does (at least, it seems that way given some text about Lahabrea's habits), but I think that time has already worn so hard on his mind and the body hopping hasn't helped, making him feel very disconnected from his body

- As a result, I headcanon that Elidibus' appearance has slowly changed over time. In particular I headcanon that his hair has lightened up over time, and the bright blue of his eyes has very slowly faded to white. His facial features change ever so often as he literally forgets what he originally looked like.

- I also headcanon that he's slightly aware of that fact and clings tightly to certain facts about himself as a way to try and keep his appearance somewhat stable, to have a shred of his identity remain intact. He's bothered Emet-Selch to try and help him modify his appearance so he can seem like he used to be

- I headcanon he does not know his true name, and he doesn't remember Azem's either.

- In his romantic relationship with my wol, Naru, there have been times during intimate moments where the intimacy has nearly brought him to a panic attack. Something about such closeness and kindness is familiar to the time before-- to the world before-- and it stirs memories. But when his memories are stirred, he still can't quite reach them. Ever reaching for something he can't quite get his fingers around..and it can make him panic.

- He often keeps a blank expression without realizing it.

- He plays piano, but he also plays a variety of string instruments. He has a okay singing voice, but it's not particularly amazing. Very pleasant when he sings quietly to you, but maybe not as good if he sings louder. Nevertheless it's special if he does.

- His skin is usually cold.

- Out of all the unsundered ascians, he has the worst insomnia. He is damn near unable to sleep, whether he needs to or not.

These are a lot of my post sundering Eli HCS :) maybe I should post some Themis ones sometime

[semi-imaginary-place]

5.0 rambling and 5.x adventures

when was it established that summoned being return on death of the summoner. also if you're tearing into the rift shouldn't bringing and sending be equaally as easy/difficult

elidibus seeing zenos walk up sword drawn and running away is so funny. he just noped out of that situation. not sure why they cut the scene at gaius attacking zenos, zenos has way too much plot armor to die by gaius.

oh hey amurot and all it's people are still hanging around. would have thought with emy's death they would have all dissipated and the city returned to ruin. i think it has something to do with how the game is coded. just like how the garleans didn't disappear after 2.0. if anything making amurot an instanced area might have been a better idea would have really hit home the transcience of everything that this place was like a liminal space. but unlike other areas after msq progression dialogue does not change here although this effect is lessened since in like 2.0 and 3.0 they didn't change much either.

Ok time to look things up. Right 7 calamities, 6 elemental, bahamut, and the doom timeline #8. G'raha awoke then went to the first 100 first years ago just in time for the Flood. I wonder how many source years that was would be would be. The wods went back tot he first in patch 3.4. actually they were on the source for a while since 3.1 at least. How much time passed on the first. Ironworks timetravel might have actually been pretty accurate in their rewind. G'raha was sent 100 years ago into the First's past but that might have only been a few months ago source time.

Looking at everything i think the devs just wanted g'raha back and then wrote a timetravel plot point to bring him back into the story. And there were so many ways to kill him off in 5.0 like if emy hadnt shot him and he'd actually died on gulg or the timeline dissolving thing (could also mean the 8th rejoining could still happen but let's be real, it's because g'raha is the dev's favorite i mean i got spoiled he's now a scion and is in dawntrail. The devs just want him to continue being a part of the main plot.

Sundering happened to break up zodiark and seal him

Wonder what the advertisements for ascians was like we heard varis about a true glorious humanity. Wonder how lahabrea, elidibus, and emet-selch got the others onboard because the ascians in general (thanks arr) seem pretty bwahaha kick puppies evil.

So the 13th was never rejoined so um real calamity of darkness. So 7 calamities + the first + the failed 13th + the source. Only 3 other intact shards.

arr and sb were both about geopolitics, war, military power, and garlemald. hw and shb meanwhile were more sentimental narratives that had less to do with the mainplot. good thing i like both. idk what dt is about seems like a beach episode.

Another plot point lost is that the devs could have made the crystal exarch the g'raha tia of another shard instead of doing timetravel. Yes yes the game game would have to be remade im not talking about that, im talking about when the devs storyboarded abd outlines shb they could have done this differently. Now with multiple timelines any character that dies (hades) can also timetravel back into the story. Narratively it means no one ever ends. And between this and zenos im never going to believe a character is gone for good. The wall has been broken.

Was thinking about Ardbert and emy again. Ardbert was 1/14, death, and so faded he'd sort of hlf forgetting himself by the time we meed him in the story. In addition whenever he's with wol-chan it's like the sun covering up the sky no was you are going to see some faint star. No way Emet-Selch saw him around the wol. And he'd have no reason to notice Ardbert outside of that context. And even if he did I don't think emy would care.

Azem is the title. Sidenote let's be real because the devs cycle names like lahabrea (and maybe even emet-selch) were likely originally intended to be names. The writers for shb likely retconned them to be titles. Like what do lahabrea, and emet selch even mean is there an ancient language and these are just untranslated? And then you can tell azem was conceptualized later with its connections to azemya and azim. I did get ew spoiled just bit as bad as shb for ew it's like i have to deliberately not put the pieces together because im very good at putting the pieces together. Anyways ancient names seem to be greek inspired like hylotheu...s the talking shade or hades is straight up mythology. Venat is an import character from ffxii where she seems to do the exact same thing and play the same role? (I'll get to ew eventually... probably...). So if azem with their sun connections follows the pattern then they'd be something related to apollo or helios. The devs are never going to confirm an azem personal name because this fandom runs on wol ocs and people would riot over their special little baby.

i saw a pixie die. maybe

ok actual moral dilemma in the qitari we don't have enough information to tell what is the truth what actually happened. instead the game is asking the player what story should be told. if this was irl the father's story would be more likely but this is a videogame and ffxiv loves it's historical twists (im looking at you ivallice raids) so who knows what is actually true the devs probably never decided. so the question is of what effect each story will have on the future if the ronkan emperor is framed as a subjugator would this act as a cautionary tale about power? if the son's interpretation is enshrined would this be about the benefits of encountering different cultures? im probably overthinking this.

for some reason the player is given the choice on which interpretation of history will be recorded. not enough info is given to be able to tell which interpretation is better supported by evidence. so it becomes a moral question of what history should be remembered. that's the qitari's first contact with the ronkas was conquest and slavery, or as saviors and and protectors of the weaker

oof this is the hardest decision in the game. because I'm on the side of truth what I would do is not restore the stela and leave it as be open to interpretation and then like write competing academic analyses. but there is no truth here only the story we want to tell. i keep going back and forth. the ronkan empire seems to generally have a favorable reputation, the vii are still loyal to them but we don't know about it's formation or relationship with the qitari. also i dont like empires the inherent nature of conquest and satellite states.

the twinning: ah back to the crystal tower trapped in there for 76 years in alliance raids. DOOMED TIMELIME IRONWORKS MADE A MINI ALEXANDER that's how they did the timetravel! i just connected 2 dots. and we learn why g'raha is crystalized, he was merged with the tower to survive the "infinite chaos" of the rift and this was done somehow by studying how omega could?? does that mean omega's world and the omega raids were in the rift???

i think it could have been cool to play in a rejoined world. obviously this wouldn't work because of player customization and what not but i personally like the idea since i have little attachment to my player characters.

[akirakirxaa]

This is Valeria, my Empress of Garlemald OC! While I've made her a past life of the WoL, she is most certainly not the WoL herself in any of my universes. I gave her Persephone's (my Azem's) amber eyes and the blond hair we know the rest of the Galvuses minus Solus have.

I wrote her originally with a Cinderella story in mind, and while she does still have a bitch of a step mother and useless stepsisters, she's grown a bit beyond my original concept when a friend asked me 'Hey if you were going to do a retelling of a fairy tale with FFXIV which one would it be?'

There is still a ball and sort of love at first sight though. Well. First soul sight. You guys have played ShB and EW, y'all know where this was going.

I know a lot of people like to headcanon the Empress as being kind of aggressive like the rest of the family, but Valeria is actually quite kind and doesn't like to judge people on where they came from. Somewhat selfishly though she does turn a blind eye to the way Garlemald treats others (though I personally headcanon that the racism wasn't as severe in the early days; gotta ease the people into brainwashing and bigotry). Hobby wise, she enjoys gardening, much like her ancient self did, but could never really do much of it in Garlemald. Once she became Empress, though, she was gifted a greenhouse where she can grow things she'd only ever seen pictures of.

She is quite the romantic and easily falls for Solus' charms, and she has just enough of his beloved Persephone in her that Emet-Selch falls for her too, as much as he can knowing how much shorter her life will be than his. Like many Solus x Empress fics I've read, I imagine Lahabrea gives him a hard time over 'playing house'.

Okay but I wanna see ALL of the non-wol OCs, send them my way, I gotta follow more peeps. I want more FFXIV inhabitants on my dash.

Also like, let me know, what do they do, what are they like?

Please reblog for visibility so more people can poke me.

[voidsentprinces]

Azem: Do you know what is causing that alarum?

Hythlodaeus: NOPE! But would you ever put your brain in a robot body?

Azem: Uhh…why? I like my body…I LOVE my body.

Hythlodaeus: Well you'd never get old ooorrr siiick.

Azem: We're literally immortal. Mitron: Why is the alarum going off?

Hythlodaeus: Not a clue. But you know, Azem, your robot body would be the perfect man--handsome, strong…

Azem: Well I mean, if I can choose can't I be a beautiful woman? Straight up gonna Audrey Hepburn it up, if possible.

Hythlodaeus: Uhh…I don't know who that is. So uhh…yes, sure, don't see why not?

Azem: Then you BETTER BELIEVE I'd put my brain in a robot body!

Mitron: Robot body? NO WAY! That goes against the natural order.

Azem: So did molboros but that didn't stop Loghrif from submitting it to Hythlodaeus.

Hythlodaeus: Or from me approving it! Besides, you'd have the strength of FIVE MEN!

Mitron: I have that now!

Azem: NOT FIVE MEN! GORILLAS! The strength of five GORILLAS! But, since you're that strong. You gotta be careful. Can't make omelettes anymore…you'd obliterate the egg.

Mitron: I DO like my omelettes…but would I still have my RUGGED looks?

Hythlodaeus: You'd look exactly the same.

Azem: Not me! Gonna straight up, Breakfast in Tiffany's up in this bitch. Minus the…uhh…Mickey Rooney part.

Hythlodaeus: Again, no one knows what is. Look, gonna just lay some ground rules. You look the same…but you're five feet tall.

Mitron: That's…kind of short. Why five feet?

Hythlodaeus: Cause thats…the only size they come in?

Azem: A Audry Hep-bot would figure out how to turn off that alarum with her ROCKET FISTS!

Hythlodaeus: You don't have rocket fists!

Mitron: What about X-Ray vision?

Hythlodaeus: Well…OBVIOUSLY!

Azem: Wait so, HE gets HIS X-ray vision? But I don't get rocket fists!?

Hythlodaeus: Everyone gets robot vision!

Azem: AND BIG CHAINSAW HANDS!

Hythlodaeus: Starting to see, why Lahabrea didn't allow you to stay in Pandaemonium.

Loghrif: X-ray vision!? Don't want people looking at my chest all day.

Hythlodaeus: Then YOU can have a cloaking device for that.

Azem: BUT! You gotta choose, X-ray vision or the…cloak thingie.

Lahabrea: Nails are like candy to robots…and we'll eat TIRES instead of licorice.

Nabriales: Alright, the alarum drew me but now I want in on this. SO! SO! SAY I put my brain in a robot body. And there's a war--robots vs amaurot. What…uhh…side would I be on?

Loghrif: I mean, Amaurot right? We got a normal Amaurot brain, right?

Lahabrea: BUT! The Amaurotines will hate you! Can't even get your own cubus!

Mitron: Better not have to live in Elpis.

Azem: Yeeeaah but…nobody knows we're robots right? WE LOOK THE SAME! Except me as Audrey Hep-bot.

Loghrif: The canis know! That's how Amaurot hunts you in the war!

Nabriales: I'm going to be hunted for sport!?

Emet-Selch: You're ALREADY hunted for sport!

Nabriales: I AM!?!

Emet-Selch: No further questions, going back to sleep.

Azem: It's why we have to CRUSH! AMAUROT!

Mitron: Might as well get on board for the big win now, Nabriales.

Elidibus: I'd only put my brain in a robot body if I can put it in a robot cat.

Hythlodaeus: Oh…kay? Audrey Hep-bot and a robot cat…with the strength of five gorillas. Making progress here, guys!

Loghrif: I mean, why settle for a cat when you can be a tiger?

Mitron: Absolutely not. If I haven't to be fucking five feet tall, Elidibus cannot be a tiger!

Azem: You're not the boss of TIGER ELIDIBUS!

Elidibus: I AM SALVATION AND HEAD PATS GIVEN FORM!

Emet-Selch: Hold up wh--

Mitron: Better put him in robot Elpis then! Hear that, Elidibus? ROBOT ELPIS!

Elidibus: Then I shall remain Emissary of the Convocation.

Nabriales: Don't expect any mercy during the Great Robot Wars.

Fandaniel: Tired of hearing you call them robots, gonna call them something else…like…Allergic. We'll form the Allergic Empire.

Mitron: Hear that? We got an Empire!

Elidibus: SO LONG AS I DRAW BREATH IS SHALL NEVER YIELD TO YOUR ALLERGIC EMPIRE! WE DO NOT NEGIOTIATE WITH ROBOTIC FIENDS OR THEIR EMPIRE!

Hythlodaeus: Elidibus does have a point, the Convocation is too stubborn to honor pacts when they've lost.

Mitron: Hmm…time to get serious.

Azem: YEAH! LETS BURN AMAUROT DOWN!

Loghrif: Hey…YEAH! We have an ace up our sleeve! Azem has burnt down Amaurot twelve times already.

Azem: Aiming for Fourteen personally, gonna drop a celestial body on them that last time…put a dragon in it…gonna be fucking awesome. People gonna be making AMVs out of it for YEARS.

Fandaniel: Wouldn't that break Prime Directive 2?

Mitron: I mean…they can't stop us can they?

Loghrif: Lets ask, Igeyohrm.

Igeyohrm: Robots? Harming Amaurot? Comes with a penalty of 1,000 years frozen in carbonite.

Nabriales: A thousand years, frozen in carbonite? So cold!

Azem: Imma escape and ask one of you if your nose itches. Its gonna be great.

Mitron: Damn Prime Directives. But, harming another living being IS a sin in the eyes of the robot church.

Azem: WE DON'T NEED TO ROME TELLING US WHAT TO DO!

Loghrif: Whats Rome?

Fandaniel: If we're robots we'd have mechanics though…couldn't they shut us down?

Loghrif: No, our robot bodies would go haywire and kill them, right?

Mitron: WITH THE STRENGTH OF FIVE GORILLAS!

Loghrif: What if we get a cancerous growth on our brain?

Emet-Selch: I just call that "Azem".

Nabriales: Good thing, the robot body is also a BRAIN SURGEON!

Emet-Selch: Could of fooled me.

Mitron: I agree with Emet-Selch, if it can't break the five foot barrier, its definitely not going to be a brain surgeon.

Hythlodaeus: Yes it can. If Elidibus can be the Tiger Bot and Azem is gonna be an…Audrey Hep-bot. Nabriales gets to be a brain surgeon.

Azem: …but no robot rocket fists?

Hythlodaeus: NO! How are you even going to woo, George Peppard with rocket fists!?

Azem: Some men like it rough.

[keicordelle]

Another commission for Autumntidal_Storm! This time some spice with their Azem and Lahabrea, putting those chains of his to good use.

My ficlet commissions are open through kofi, and if you're interested in a longer piece like this, send me a message and we can talk!

-

"Oh for the love of all creation, save us both from this torment and just go ask him to fuck you, would you?"

The sound of Hades's voice shattered Eros's lustful daydream, jerking him back to reality. A somewhat disappointing reality, where he found himself pinned by Hades's irritated scowl rather than by the heavy weight of Lahabrea’s body, his legs pulled back and chained tight as Lahabrea fucked into him, hard and heavy and demanding.... Eros blinked and he was in Hades's study once more, his cock hard and aching beneath his robes. "What?"

Hades sighed, exasperation heavy in his voice. "I'm neither blind nor stupid, and if it's all the same to you, I'd really like to be able to get through my work without my dick stiffening every time you catch a glimpse of the man. I still have to work with the bastard, you know, and it's getting awfully uncomfortable."

Eros flushed. Maybe his fantasizing had gotten a bit out of hand, if Hades was picking up on it this much. His eyes drifted down to Hades's lap, where the soft folds of his robe hid the effects Eros's lust had on him. He had no choice but to feel it right along with him, just as Eros couldn't help but feel the consternation that plucked at Hades. Emotions spilled along the soul bond that stretched between them: a delight at times, and at others, well. Hades's stiff cock spoke for itself.

But still, Eros couldn't help but fantasize about Lahabrea any time he caught a glimpse of the man - and, working together as closely as they did, that was not an infrequent occurrence by any stretch of the imagination. The thought of being bound up in his chains, forced into submission as Lahabrea drove his cock into his ass... Or maybe he'd press it between Eros's lips and demand that he suck it, fucking into his mouth until his came down Eros's throat. Or maybe he'd pull out at the last second, coming all over Eros's face. With his hands chained behind his back, he'd have no choice but to take it however Lahabrea wanted to give it to him. Oh, the things he could do with those chains...

-

Read the rest on Ao3!

[asteriasfallingstarsandtears]

CW: child abandonment, family issues, marriage failure, injury

From a piece I'm writing (I have a million wips, send help) about my Azem meeting her creator for the first time since she was a child. Phoebe, much like Athena, was deeply concerned and devoted to determining what made a soul, how she could make it better, and how she could control it. She made Asteria, her Prometheia, and then abandoned her thinking her a failure before she was found and raised by Venat.

Meeting Phoebe was unpleasant for my poor girl.

Background, Asteria was once in a relationship with both Lahabrea and Athena and they had two children together, Eric and Theseus.

[mothervvoid]

‘i slithered here from eden’ ‘you are the sun and i am just the planets’ IM GOING TO FHGFHGHHRHHRHHGHFHHGH LOSE MY MIND

in light of the recent patch, i can say with confidence that lahabrea recognized the WoL, at least for a moment, and probably tried to temper them only for hydaelyn to beat him to it and he spends ARR and HW chasing them around, wondering WHY they feel so familiar because he just...... he doesnt remember anymore. 

and in his final moments, as he fades into the dark, he looks back at the WoL and r e a c h e s. he reaches for the shepard. he reaches for the sun.

[fourfoldfires]

pandaemonium tier 3 delusions predictions

[suwisuwii]

Euclid & Lahabrea

commission for @/asciangrandpa on twitter