“There you are, my old friend. I missed you so.”
a (surprise!) illustration for @futuresoon whose hythades fic has lived rent free in my head for 2 months so you should go read it too
😊😊📖📚➡️ an ever-turning wheel

Janaina Medeiros
Cosimo Galluzzi
wallacepolsom
dirt enthusiast
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

ellievsbear
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
sheepfilms

Product Placement

Kaledo Art
No title available
🪼
will byers stan first human second
hello vonnie

Andulka
noise dept.
Today's Document
todays bird

Discoholic 🪩
Show & Tell
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Thailand

seen from United States

seen from Netherlands

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from United States
@lavender-ancient
“There you are, my old friend. I missed you so.”
a (surprise!) illustration for @futuresoon whose hythades fic has lived rent free in my head for 2 months so you should go read it too
😊😊📖📚➡️ an ever-turning wheel
thethirdseat:
lavender-ancient —
He might have to correct Hythlodaeus later that they aren’t quite aiming for a civil war just yet—merely planting fertile seeds to be harvested at a later point in time if the resulting conflict becomes useful. Such is their method: constantly arranging and rearranging the pieces on the board, always forming multiple contingencies and working around shifting landscapes toward their goals. This is how they keep winning: ever playing the long game, never tied to one set of circumstances. Adapting always.
Hythlodaeus’s sudden reappearance, too, is a feature of that shifting landscape—not only the landscape of Garlemald, but of the Ascian hierarchy. As a fellow Unsundered, his voice will hold equal weight to the three Paragons regardless of not sitting the Convocation himself. Emet-Selch wonders briefly how Lahabrea and Elidibus will receive their dear Architect; for now, he belongs only to him. And with Hythlodaeus’s tongue pressing into his mouth, Hades is content to belong only to Hythlodaeus a little while longer. After all, they have years and even eons to enact their plans, none of which are half so immediate as the heat between their very tangible bodies.
The two of them together once again… serving Lord Zodiark, restoring their world.
Emet-Selch returns the kiss in earnest, answering Hythlodaeus’s fervor with newfound hunger of his own. With that first round of reunion lust having been already slaked there is a regained comfort with one another’s bodies, with their implicit permission to touch one another. Hades’ hands help themselves to Hythlodaeus’s derrière, filling each palm with a cheek and squeezing, as though to say ‘this is mine.’
He walks him thusly toward the bed, throwing him down ungently onto its plush surface once his knees touch the mattress. The bed itself is richly dressed in crimson silk and gold trims, as befits an emperor of Garlemald, and he takes a moment to appreciate the sight of Hythlodaeus sprawled upon it before crawling atop him.
“As one,” he confirms, dipping low to kiss Hythlodaeus not upon the lips but on his neck, tilting his head back and dragging kisses down along his throat, then lower…lower… “For our people…for our star…” Deft hands work their way under Hythlodaeus’s borrowed tunic and begin working his own pants off his lover. “We will have our world back.”
It was a strange feeling. Even now. This heat. This chest of warmth, so hot against his palm. He had all forgotten in the void what warmth was. But now. Here in Hades arms again. It was a blissful reminder of what he lost and what he had gained. That cold of awakening, staring blankly at a frosted grey sky, naked and confused as snow blearily drifted passed him in lazy swaying tracks was gone. No longer shivering in his fear of the unknown. He was warm, content in his new place in his Master’s grand plan. In Emet-Selch’s grand plan. A humble servant, no longer but a passive soul to be consumed.
Emet’s fervor and feral need didn’t go unnoticed in his minds acceptance of his new reality, even as he came to the realization of who he wanted to be, he still spared his lover his time and commitment too his desires, thus proof as he hungrily continued his war of lips, fingers gripping smoothly at his lovers back, sweeping down broad shoulders and pressing his thin form idly against the Emperor’s elder form. Whatever his beloved wanted, he need naught stress himself with asking twice, and so as he laid claim to his backside, Hythlodaeus mercifully grounded back, filling the immortal royal’s palms with as much of himself as he could grope and all with a deviously proud purr. “I will not have my king found wanting~” Hyth teased, tugging on Hades’s bottom lip like the imp he always was.
Hyth walked back, backpedaling blindly as the taller man moved them only to let out a tiny amused laugh as he was unceremoniously left to tumble back-first onto the lavish sheets of the royal he called his soulmate. The violet eyes of the younger faced man twinkled, hushed and half-lidded in the dim-lit lamplight of his lovers quarters, arms stretched out on either side of pillows and soften scented blankets that were scattered over the top.
Beauty incarnate and there watching and staring with a faint slanted grin that even the succubus of the Void could not dream to match. And with one hand, would the eons age angel raise his palm in invite, beckoning his mate to partake in the splendors of his flesh. With invite taken, Emet would drink in his divine godsend gift and crawl upon the beauty laying in waiting for him. A soft ringing giggle would leave the man below his shade who’d wrap his arms around Hade’s in turn while squirming playfully with each given kiss down his soft tender neck. Soft giggles would soon morph to relaxed hums and hushed gasps, all the tall tale signs of a lover in sweet bliss.
He’d wiggle a bit as Hades began undressing him, working his own hips to shake his trousers off and all without removing his hands from their draped place between salt and pepper hair and shoulders. Hyth would grunt, kicking the pant legs off with a shake of his legs till freed of this clothed prison yet again. “Does this not remind you of your visits to my office after a long day of hard work, my love. How’d you and I would take our fills of one another? Oh my poor desk when you were in a right mood~” The lavender teased down to his mate.
— @lavender-ancient and my Dynamis characters are having an eternal bonding ceremony tomorrow night! If you happen to have a character on Seraph or want to create an alt there to attend the ceremony (we’d be tickled if your RP muse who we know on Tumblr shows up), I have about 5 invitations left for Tumblr friends.
As this is also a celebration of the completion of our Amaurot-themed house, there will be a get-together there afterward. Feel free to stop by the house whether or not you can make it to the ceremony!
Things are generally kind of loosely IC-ish and your brand new alts will be forgiven for attending in starting gear. There will be a ton of NPC characters attending, some duplicates, we don't question it. Guests can be ferried from Gridania to the chapel as needed.
Please message me here or in game (Catboy Emet-selch, Seraph) if you would like an invite.
Some house pics under the cut!
Keep reading
Varshahn (big) walking into a doorway
@thethirdseat asked:
Mumbles something that sounds like Hythlodaeus’s name in his sleep.
Gives his jaw a kiss sleepily and wraps a leg around Hades own, fingers curling tighter into his night robe.
polemistes:
lavender-ancient:
Moonless night. He had never known a world without it, the skies just over the horizon, and he was in the garden cutting his consciousness, his attention away from his troubles. The fear snuffled at the slops. Most of the time it grew fractious, shoving and grunting to air its authority over him. Hythlodaeus caught his eye without effort.
“You speak as if it’d be like blowing bubbles in the stream, and that if I fail I’d only be sent off with a bitten ear and naught more.” Yet, life was not that easy and it will never be. Still, they’re right. He’d rather forsake himself than not try at all. “But when all of this is over,” he paused, his beatless heart aching, the fear bursting at the seams. “What will become of you? Of you and I? This moment we share?”
“And now look at you. Speaking as if I’m doomed to fade away the moment you turn your head. I will be right here for as long as you deem me worthy of your time, your company. I am yours. In whatever way you wish that to be. Summon me and my smile will be yours to seek. That. Us. Is your constant.. The moments forever.”
polemistes:
lavender-ancient
Ares winced when he saw them trail their lips, but only for a moment. With his shoulders straight and unbowed, he shrugged and averted his gaze to the clearing’s grass. He realized he knew Hythlodaeus more than he could dare admit and there were never times where he wished he did not, and yet… They’ve become older, the skin of their faces more lined, but he believed himself the same man, his head still intact and his eyes clear, but Hythlodaeus?
Something has changed. Of all the people in the world, there were only a few he could say he was glad to have ever met. By the time he learns the names of others, they are gone. They must be meteors made to catch their attention, such was this shard to his friend. “Do you love him?” left his lips without question knowing full well the implication of it.
“He is you. You are him. How can I love one and not the other.” Purple eyes blinked, turning to Ares with a curious cant of his head. “Of course I do.” Another pause, his ever watchful stare glancing over a familiar face as if searching for something. Ah. He understood now. “What is it, my friend? Come now. You cannot mean to tell me you object~”
thethirdseat:
lavender-ancient —
Hades scoffs audibly at the suggestion that Cinnilla could rightly be termed his lover in either the literal or euphemistic sense—all the more ironic given who speaks the word to him—at once lacking the affection for the former and the social illegitimacy for the latter. “Hardly.”
But Hythlodaeus’s curiosity about her is valid, his questions warranting answers he is due, especially given how upset he was to learn that Hades had taken a wife and sired children in this life (and the terror Hades felt when he thought Hythlodaeus might not forgive him for it still fresh in his mind). So he entwines their arms in turn when Hythlodaeus leans against him and makes no fuss about the asking, despite how ridiculous it seems to Hades that Hythlodaeus should feel jealous of a mortal.
“I chose her from a handful of suitable candidates. Her father was a well loved senator, which improves the way the people feel about our offspring as heirs to the throne. They’re all about coming from ‘good stock,’ which means pureblood Garlean—as high-ranking and as credentialed as possible.” And Cinnilla certainly was that, having borne him at least one son who was the shining paragon of everything the Garleans could have desired in an heir—and another son who was, well, a spare.
Hades waves his hand dismissively—a bare hand now, having not dressed in full regalia this time, but still dressed in expensive soft materials the likes of which they had eschewed in Amaurot. “She is stage dressing, as much as the palace and the finery are. I appear with her at formal events and hardly see her the rest of the time. She knows what this marriage is and what it is not—though she does not know what I am, nor of our ultimate plans.”
That hand which had been withdrawn from Hythlodaeus’s rests now about his waist and Hades gazes appraisingly down at his true lover and partner. “I estimate she will not be fond of you in the slightest.” No words minced nor feelings spared with Hades, as they never have been. “She will view you as a threat to her own position, whether I outright claim you as my lover or deny that which will doubtlessly be suspected anyhow. To say nothing of the fact that you are not Garlean. Nay, your presence here needn’t jeopardize the mission; it merely alters the landscape. On the contrary, should we incite factions of support and discontent for this new development, it could lay the groundwork for political discord that will serve our ends later on. One side would support me absolutely, regardless of whom I take to bed, rumored or admitted; the other would balk at the idea of a foreigner being preferred over their pureblood empress. And that faction would not regard you kindly, you must bear in mind.”
He takes a step back from Hythlodaeus then, the better to untangle the following choice from the allure of a lover’s gentle embrace. Glad though he is to have Hythlodaeus back in his arms, in this and in countless other moments of practicality they have shared between the romance he is more life partner than lover: a companion in the decision-making; a support throughout the twists and trials of life. And soon to very much be—one way or another—a partner in crime. “What I wish for you to consider is what role you want to play here. Mortal lives are brief; I will only remain in this body another thirty, forty years or so, during which time this vessel will quickly wither and waste away. Then we may return to the Rift and rest for a while. Yet even such short-lived consequences ought to be undertaken willingly: Will you make a pawn of yourself as the Emperor’s paramour—brazenly so or discreetly—or would you prefer to avoid the crossfire by keeping our romantic involvement under utmost secrecy and we will find some other role for you to play in service to the Ardor?”
There was no such thing as secrets between them. There hearts were always bare to the other, a naked canvas for only their eyes and their eyes alone to roam and know, to feel and listen. Words that might sound brunt or hard to another but simple truths to them. Facts given freely to judge and know only truths. This was what their love was. No holding back or saving face. Them given. Fully and accepting.
It was why Hyth had gotten upset earlier, knowing full well hiding his disdain was off the table, and this was why Hades told him simply without brushing it away, that he and he alone was his heart. Not this woman of power who’s matching paintings marched along the hallways walls, mounted besides one another.
His heart. His soul...was Hythlodaeus. He living proof of who he loved all this time, even apart. The specs of his soul in eachother was a bond that transcended time and space and everything in between. Unconditional. Unchallenged. Unmovable. Hyth always knew it but it still made him smile that he continued to go unchallenged. ‘’She sounds wonderful darling. Quite the fetching catch.” The lavender haired ancient mused with a loud dramatic snort and an eyeroll of heavily divine lilac hues. So he just being here would make her feel threatened? Good. Yes, he was a petty man and damn proud of it.
“So you’re saying my presence alone has the potential to start all out civil war? Sounds fun~” Ever in it for the chaos, who was he to turn down so much havoc making? In that case he already knew what he would say as he came to stand before his soulmate, his hand claiming Hades’s own in a tight promising hold, squeezing his digits before pulling his bare hand to his lips. This was his road to walk and he would choose it willingly so long as he took it with Hades from now on. No. No longer would he make Hades toil in the torment alone.
Together or not at all.
“I will be your lover for this world and the worlds in between to bare witness too. No longer will I be a shadow. Let the gods and folly know my name. I am here to stay and to love you with the might of ten thousand years in waiting. This is the path I choose. My hand is yours is all that matters. You lead. I follow. You ask, I do, blindly and in love. Have me as your side. Let me share and bask in the chaos. We make it as one.” His free hand reached up to caress his beloved with a slow slide of slender fingers. “Concubine, paramour, lover, whore. Whatever bloody name or title I must abide by, I do it gladly.’’ He smirked that mischievous grin of his. “Besides I don’t think I could do one more minute of pretending i’m not woefully in love with you. Far too much effort, darling~” With that he let the other man go to instead grab him by the shirt and yank his darling Hades into a deep heated kiss, officially making it known where he stood and what he was willing to do for his lover. His and his alone. The worlds could burn so long as he stayed in his arms just like this. And he would happily be the one to light the flame if need be.
EMET-SELCH in FINAL FANTASY XIV: ENDWALKER.
thethirdseat:
lavender-ancient —
“The palace,” he corrects. “A castrum—” he makes a point of using the Garlean word “— is a defensive fortification. You would do well to remember such distinctions whilst you are in Garlemald.”
But more pressing than Hythlodaeus’s wanting vocabulary is the public context of that stay, and Solus mulls it over silently while Caecilia tends to his hair. If Hythlodaeus intends to be seen out and about on his arm in public, then word of the Emperor’s paramour would get around sooner rather than later—including to the empress. And while there is something amusing about letting her be the last to know about a publicly flaunted lover, he does wonder if that will set Hythlodaeus up for an unpleasant stay in her crosshairs.
Caecilia finishes her task, and the noisy hair dryer silences. She smoothes a pomade or some such over his duotone locks, and he delivers his verdict: “We will indeed tour the city, but it will likely not be tomorrow. We will discuss it further later.”
There is no room left for debate in his phrasing, and he shooes Caecilia away just in case Hythlodaeus has a mind to do so. Caecilia—whose dull sundered eyes have widened at Hythlodaeus’s suggestion of a gift, half in alarm and half in excitement at the prospect of becoming so favored of the Emperor for the simple happenstance of being called upon while he was entertaining this strange but amiable guest—is briefly startled by the abrupt dismissal so discordantly on the heels of Hythlodaeus’s cajoling warmth, but quickly remembers herself and does the emperor’s bidding with a hasty bow.
Thus alone once more, he turns to Hythlodaeus, one hand on his shoulder, the other gingerly caressing the familiar lavender braid—familiar, and yet different somehow. Caecilia’s work is more purposeful and neater than Hythlodaeus’s own, the weave tighter, the strands neater, but although Hades recalls the informational knowledge that Hythlodaeus wore his braid loosely, after twelve thousand years he can’t recall precisely how it was. How had his strands fallen about his face, how had his bangs framed his eyes? Was it always precisely as he looked now, and Hades has simply forgotten? He strains to remember, but ultimately contents himself with the simple pleasure that Hythlodaeus is here now, however he was in the past and however he is in the present. He is here, and that is the only thing that matters.
Regardless of how anyone else in the imperial capital may feel about it.
Solus’s champagne eyes—likewise the same and yet different from the ones through which Hades looked at him in the past—focus on the here and now, from gazing into his hazy, braid-induced memories to the man physically standing before him in the present. And so Hades, too, is present. And the present contains some minor complications to be worked around.
“We should discuss the matter of the Empress.”
Hythlo watched the young lady leave with a happy wave goodbye. Once she was gone though, his attention turned back to his mate, eyes bright and full of life as he smiled at he whom he loved above all else. He watched him touch and soothe his digits through his braid, feeling over his lilac locks with a silence and curiousness only a lover could give.
Deep down he had to wonder just how long had it been to see him like this again. Had he ever forgotten his face in all those thousands of years apart...? It was a worrying concern but he kept it to himself and instead focused on having his beloved close and leaning into his warm touch and the happiness they felt in eachothers company. The one thing that would never change between them. That of of course all changed with Hades next statement though. Ah. The Empress...Solus’s wife. Whatever warmth he felt quickly turned into a bitter cold with his dread.
Irrational as it was, he didn’t really want to go about this topic. But he assumed they needed to if he was going to be staying here.
‘‘Ah....yes. Your ‘lover’.”
The words turned his mouth unconfutably dry. Hythlodaeus didn’t know this woman, nor how far Hades care for her went, but he knew already that he wasn’t going to like this woman from the start. She who laid with his mate. Bore his children...lived the life he never got to have with the man he loved. Perhaps it was envy. A rare feeling Hyth had ever felt. For he was warmth and friendliness incarnate. Joy and bliss given form...to dislike anyone seemed almost taboo in his mind. To be disliked in turn just as alien. But he knew in his heart of hearts the tension between them would be an abyss deep.
“....I understand if you of course wish to keep our true relationship a secret to the masses. I wish not to put your role in jeopardy my love. You have worked too tirelessly on your mission to let but I ruin your majestic play.” And he meant that. If he had to play the idle bard in the distance and watch this Empress cling to his lovers side, watch her kiss him....for him and him alone would he bare such torment. He but only say so and his will would be done. But if Hades wished to say screw it all and care note completely, in that too would he support him.
There was a beat of silence before he grew the courage to speak and as he did would he lean closer, curling his arms around his mates own as he stared up to him with those bright ancient amethyst eyes full of genuine fascination. “Tell me of this Empress...do you care for her or is she but another pawn in your game? Why did you choose her or was she chosen for you? I’m quite curious to know of this mortal. What will she think of me I come to wonder~”
“to begin, we first must see the end.”
@thethirdseat
“…”
“Tis but a jest love~”
LOOK AT THIS TINY MAN
Anonymous asked: I still can’t believe he fucks. The man had no eyebrows
‘‘His looks are fine, I’m more curious as to how he learned to procreate at all.” Hyth giggled. “Such a stick in the mud as he is, even more so than my dear Emet-Selch.”
my take away from the new Pandaemonium raids and I’m right