AO3 (FFXIV, Stargate Atlantis, Baldur's Gate 3, Dragon Age: The Veilguard, Love and Deepspace.)
Prompt-based ficlets: #ink and silver stars.
WoL
A Seeker of the Sun miqo'te, whose canon universe is the Seasons and Promises verse, an MSQ adjacent story where a plan thousands of years in the making culminates in a reunion in Ultima Thule. A mother of three, married to Hades and Hythlodaeus. Main battle classes Dancer and White Mage. Enthusiastic baker and botanist. Azem's reincarnation.
Tags: #stitched by starlight // #aesthetic: stitched by starlight.
Azem
The Fourteenth seat, who adores her people and their city, yet cannot help but see their flaws. Rumours of her being a creation and 'not real' have followed her since childhood. Content to bend the rules as suits the purpose to aid others; unrelentingly kind in the most stubborn of ways. Married to Hades and Hythlodaeus. Main classes Dancer and Paladin.
Tags: #woven in sunlight // #aesthetic: woven in sunlight.
Izeira
What happens when a tangle of Azem's most extreme emotions stored in an unidentified concept crystal meet a new soul in the aetherial sea? A sweet girl burdened with increasingly desctructive powers, Izeira is yet attempting to learn how to lean into her 'gifts'. When not adventuring, she resides in Ishgard. Married to Aymeric and Estinien.
Tags: #spirit of hearthlight // #aesthetic: spirit of hearthlight
Yskari 'Kari' de Riva ('Rook')
A Crow originating from Clan Lavellan, given to the Crows in her teens following quiet warnings from her Inquisitor cousin. Heartsblood is an AU that tells her canon story, while the Moonlight and Midnights universe follows game canon. Soft heart underneath it all – big fan of hugs. Involved with Lucanis. Codex entries.
Tags: #heart of firelight // #aesthetic: heart of firelight
MC
Tags: #elixir of midnight // #aesthetic: elixir of midnight
Writing for prompts:
FFXIV
Azem/Emet-Selch/Hythlodaeus + pairings within the trio.
WoL/Emet-Selch/Hythlodaeus + pairings within the trio.
Izeira/Aymeric/Estinien + pairings within the trio.
Opens with Darling, set during the Final Days. After learning the truth of the future from Venat, Azem tells her daughter stories about her family and attempts to work out a way to save her from being sundered.
The continuation begins with One Step Closer, where the WoL tries to work out what life looks like after the choice she made in Ultima Thule.
A look at some of Antonia's (WoL's previous but one incarnation) story, As Sun Upon the Snow, fits within this universe, but contains no direct references to it.
Fics and aesthetics: #seasons and promises verse.
Reflections
Azem/Emet-Selch/Hythlodaeus, Modern AU.
Reflections in Stardust
Of course Hythlodaeus' new roommate and oldest friend is a musical theatre snob and playing in productions of Shakespeare at the National...
Fics and aesthetics: #reflections verse.
Regency
In which there are myriad rumours surrounding the taciturn and anti-social Hades, but fellow not-quite-outcasts Azem and Hythlodaeus are not one bit deterred.
Is a marriage of convenience really a marriage of convenience when it's also quite plainly for love?
Fics and aesthetics: #for want of a ribbon.
Fate Eternal
A soulmate AU detailed here, in which soulmates can feel one another's intense pain and both the WoL and Emet-Selch endure more than one sort of agony over the course of the MSQ.
Fics: #fate eternal.
Betwixt the Stars
A sci-fi AU detailed here, in which Amaurot's civilisation is divided amongst a fleet of starships, with much of its key functions and defense centered on its fourteen flagships, captained by the Convocation. Hades and Hythlodaeus command The Underworld, while Azem's ship is The Shepherd. Their marriage is the worst kept secret in the fleet.
Fics: #betwixt the stars.
Souls in Bloom
A WoL x Hades x Hythlodaeus flower shop AU, in which the so-called Witch of Elpis is a sparingly spoken florist who has an uncanny ability to know which flowers her customers need, something Hythlodaeus and Hades discover when the former insists on seeing if the rumours are true.
Fics: #souls in bloom.
Of Tea and Tempests
A reincarnated Azem crosses paths with Emet-Selch during a protracted conflict between the people of her nation and that which he has decided to lead into battle. Stems from drabble six of Metempsychosis.
Fics: #of tea and tempests
Royalty AU
The crown was never meant for Hades. Azem and Hythlodaeus were never meant to return to court. After ten years apart and a decade of heartache, is there anything of what they were that they can save?
Fics: #a dance by heart
Supernatural creatures AU
When a so-called witch nurses a rather tame 'wolf' back to health, it brings a vampire to her doorstep. And it turns out that the wolf would quite like to stay...
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It starts as a roiling agitation that she has only the faintest of memories of, and so dismisses as the result of a night of uneven sleep and likely the work of a nightmare that she cannot quite pin down clearly enough to reason with and banish.
By midday, the idea of anyone straying close enough to so much as brush against her is so intolerable that it has her roaming from room to room, making half-mangled excuses to absent herself whenever either of her husbands happens to join her, the damnable tail that she usually maintains such tight control over lashing from side to side.
(She catches the questions that Hythlodaeus will not ask. The pained look when she moves away from him so deliberately – so unnaturally – and retreats into her own space.
It is far worse a thing than the fire that has begun to course through her veins.)
She fills the kitchen with enough biscuits and cakes to feed a small army. Smashes through the strongest shields she can coax from the generator in the garden, simultaneously furious and glad that she cannot convince the device to give up and surrender to her a final victory. Paces, circling said garden’s perimeter with increasingly uneven steps as the damnable inevitable presents itself as the sole, mortifying reason for the lot of it.
The body she has kept at such a distance for so many years has, for that time, mercifully granted her one small favour while she dragged it through hell and back. It had been no loss to her that it had all but forgotten itself and any normal rhythms.
And, with that, there had been control. Nothing more to worry about than a Hyuran or Elezen woman need trouble herself with. Battered and bruised and kept permanently on the cusp of giving up, her traitorous body had at least failed to signal any demands and wanting not of her own inviting.
Years passed and children brought into the world, and now, now it chooses to...
An arm slips around her waist, and, just as she registers it as an unbearable threat to her control, shadows envelop her and haul her into the darkness of an unfamiliar forest that is nevertheless the perfect – their preferred – location for—
She turns, aiming a savage swing at Hades that she anticipates will be met with a shield, only for him to merely lift a hand and deflect her strike in an overtly casual fashion, his study of her intense.
It is infuriating.
There can be no telling him. No making of herself an obligation. A duty.
And who is to say it would be any better to give in? She has no recollection of it being pleasurable. A disappointment only, the stranger in her bed too pleased to be there and too set on his own enjoyment to be of any use to her. A frustrating, ridiculous debacle. She should have known it would be no different even with mindless need driving her.
Fire next, hoping Hades will fight. Not embers coaxed to life or a mage’s conjuring trick, but that terrible flame that he will understand is the raw, unfiltered strength that she is so ashamed to revel in.
Defence again; a agonising patience in golden eyes.
She sends him back and back once more, wreathing herself in blood and scarlet, until her eyes blur with awful tears and he effortlessly captures her wrists and pins her against the nearest tree, pressing close in a deliberately provocative manner.
Her body betrays her, pleading as she shifts against him all too desperately, and the brush of his lips over the pulse in her neck is so glorious that she blushes to hear the sound that she yields to him.
“I know,” he utters lowly, anchoring a hand at her hip, “what this is.”
“You don’t,” she refutes.
He can’t. Surely he must believe that she is merely burning her way through temper and agitation in their usual inelegant way, for all that he has not played his part.
“...Not all women of your race suffer from the affliction, and I confess I believed you were among that number, yet...”
He slips a hand between them, her answer to lunge forward and secure his bottom lip to bite down on instead of her own.
Hades’ hiss is of the delighted variety, followed by a low note of dark, rich amusement.
And yet he sobers as he bows his head to hers to murmur, “I think you are well. I think you are well and thriving and this is the... consequence...”
He needn’t sound so pleased.
(He loves her. Of course he is pleased that she is no longer the skeletal, exhausted figure that returned from the edge of the universe.)
“And I think that you should allow me to bring you home and let our husband worship you, just as he has been aching to all day...”
She knows very well that command of herself is unravelling further when she hears herself say, “Do you want to watch?”
The hand between them strays along a leisurely path that drags a tight curse from her.
“For a time,” he allows, all smug satisfaction.
It is not so difficult to give herself into his care.
Nor to seek out the kisses she has craved for hour upon hour.
Nor to let days unfold ahead where she knows nothing but warmth and devotion...
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It starts as a roiling agitation that she has only the faintest of memories of, and so dismisses as the result of a night of uneven sleep and likely the work of a nightmare that she cannot quite pin down clearly enough to reason with and banish.
By midday, the idea of anyone straying close enough to so much as brush against her is so intolerable that it has her roaming from room to room, making half-mangled excuses to absent herself whenever either of her husbands happens to join her, the damnable tail that she usually maintains such tight control over lashing from side to side.
(She catches the questions that Hythlodaeus will not ask. The pained look when she moves away from him so deliberately – so unnaturally – and retreats into her own space.
It is far worse a thing than the fire that has begun to course through her veins.)
She fills the kitchen with enough biscuits and cakes to feed a small army. Smashes through the strongest shields she can coax from the generator in the garden, simultaneously furious and glad that she cannot convince the device to give up and surrender to her a final victory. Paces, circling said garden’s perimeter with increasingly uneven steps as the damnable inevitable presents itself as the sole, mortifying reason for the lot of it.
The body she has kept at such a distance for so many years has, for that time, mercifully granted her one small favour while she dragged it through hell and back. It had been no loss to her that it had all but forgotten itself and any normal rhythms.
And, with that, there had been control. Nothing more to worry about than a Hyuran or Elezen woman need trouble herself with. Battered and bruised and kept permanently on the cusp of giving up, her traitorous body had at least failed to signal any demands and wanting not of her own inviting.
Years passed and children brought into the world, and now, now it chooses to...
An arm slips around her waist, and, just as she registers it as an unbearable threat to her control, shadows envelop her and haul her into the darkness of an unfamiliar forest that is nevertheless the perfect – their preferred – location for—
She turns, aiming a savage swing at Hades that she anticipates will be met with a shield, only for him to merely lift a hand and deflect her strike in an overtly casual fashion, his study of her intense.
It is infuriating.
There can be no telling him. No making of herself an obligation. A duty.
And who is to say it would be any better to give in? She has no recollection of it being pleasurable. A disappointment only, the stranger in her bed too pleased to be there and too set on his own enjoyment to be of any use to her. A frustrating, ridiculous debacle. She should have known it would be no different even with mindless need driving her.
Fire next, hoping Hades will fight. Not embers coaxed to life or a mage’s conjuring trick, but that terrible flame that he will understand is the raw, unfiltered strength that she is so ashamed to revel in.
Defence again; a agonising patience in golden eyes.
She sends him back and back once more, wreathing herself in blood and scarlet, until her eyes blur with awful tears and he effortlessly captures her wrists and pins her against the nearest tree, pressing close in a deliberately provocative manner.
Her body betrays her, pleading as she shifts against him all too desperately, and the brush of his lips over the pulse in her neck is so glorious that she blushes to hear the sound that she yields to him.
“I know,” he utters lowly, anchoring a hand at her hip, “what this is.”
“You don’t,” she refutes.
He can’t. Surely he must believe that she is merely burning her way through temper and agitation in their usual inelegant way, for all that he has not played his part.
“...Not all women of your race suffer from the affliction, and I confess I believed you were among that number, yet...”
He slips a hand between them, her answer to lunge forward and secure his bottom lip to bite down on instead of her own.
Hades’ hiss is of the delighted variety, followed by a low note of dark, rich amusement.
And yet he sobers as he bows his head to hers to murmur, “I think you are well. I think you are well and thriving and this is the... consequence...”
He needn’t sound so pleased.
(He loves her. Of course he is pleased that she is no longer the skeletal, exhausted figure that returned from the edge of the universe.)
“And I think that you should allow me to bring you home and let our husband worship you, just as he has been aching to all day...”
She knows very well that command of herself is unravelling further when she hears herself say, “Do you want to watch?”
The hand between them strays along a leisurely path that drags a tight curse from her.
“For a time,” he allows, all smug satisfaction.
It is not so difficult to give herself into his care.
Nor to seek out the kisses she has craved for hour upon hour.
Nor to let days unfold ahead where she knows nothing but warmth and devotion...
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
