#i hope you don't mind :)

[fudgelling-away]

Thank you, @face-me-like-an-uwu for your donation to @ut-against-genocide! 🍉🍉🍉

I took on your request because I love the Waterfall region as well. Thank you for the opportunity!

[little-pup-pip]

hello! could i request a masc leaning moodboard with a no deco paci and darker colours +some skateboard related things please?

Sure!!

[xxwelxx]

The Boring Ones <33

[morag-renart]

I've been following such a beautiful aerti fic that i just HAD to draw them. This image stuck to my mind and wouldn't leave until it was done. That scene was absolutely fenomenal!!

Tried a different shading style, the perspective was a hell to draw and probably it doesn't make too much sense, but something is better than nothing when you want to create!

You can support my work with a Kofi I'd really appreciate it c:

[earth-fan]

@same-pic-of-the-earth-everyday I made lemon pound cake for you :>

[goforth-ladymidnight]

A Second Chance, Ch. 16

@praetorqueenreyna @thrumbolt @achaotichuman @northern-polaris @zivotzaruzi @taymartiart (Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged or untagged.)

I just checked my last update, and not only was it almost a month ago (sorry!), I included an apology for the previous chapter's cliffhanger. So, to get it out of the way, I'll just warn you now and apologize for this next one. 🫶

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: It's the Friday before Christmas, and some unexpected surprises show up on everyone's doorsteps.

Read on AO3, or read on below:

There was a knock on the open office door, then someone called through the crack: “Special delivery for J. P. I.”

Tamlin and Jurian looked up at the same time, then exchanged surprised looks.

“From who?” Jurian asked the smartly-dressed courier standing in the doorway with a large rectangular box tucked under his arm.

“T & J, sir. It’s a department store, sir.”

“I know what it is.” Jurian gave Tamlin a look. “The only question is who would be sending us a box full of high end goodies from Thread & Jewels of all places,” he remarked dryly, then flicked up his eyebrows. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Tamlin blushed as he carefully closed the drawer of the filing cabinet he’d been organizing. “You never know. It could be from Vassa.”

Jurian grimaced as he pushed his rolling chair away from the desk. “Doubtful,” he said, groaning as he stood. “She just barely started speaking to me again. Besides, why would she need to have something delivered? More to the point—” He took the pen from the waiting courier’s outstretched hand. “—Why would your boyfriend have something delivered? You just moved in together. You could be saving a fortune on postage alone, not to mention tips. Which I will happily pay,” he quickly added to the courier.

“No need, sir. It’s been taken care of, sir,” the courier said, unfazed as he held out the clipboard for Jurian to sign.

“Really? No kidding.”

Tamlin stood back and slid his hands into his pockets. “Maybe it’s not for us,” he mused. “Maybe it got sent to the wrong place.”

Jurian squinted at the fine print, then scrawled his signature. “Guess again,” he remarked, clicking the pen closed and handing it back. “That’s our address. And look—” He held up a small, cream-colored envelope and wagged it. “—It’s got our business name on it, with a little heart dotting the ‘i’ and everything.”

Tamlin rushed forward, blushing madly. “Let me see that,” he said, snatching the envelope from a smirking Jurian, then turned it over. “It does not.”

“Maybe not, but who else would go to all this trouble?”

“Lucien,” they said in unison.

“You got it.”

As Tamlin slit open the envelope, Jurian asked the courier, “Is there anything else?”

“No, sir. Enjoy your weekend, sir. And happy holidays, sir.”

“Yeah, you, too,” Jurian said, accepting the box before closing the door behind him. “So, what does your little love note say?”

Tamlin was too intrigued by the message to be embarrassed further by his friend’s teasing. “Here’s a little something for each of you,” he read aloud. “You’ll know which is which, but just in case, call me.” He didn’t mention the small heart next to the phone number at the bottom, but he smiled at it, just the same.

Jurian tilted his head and listened as he gently shook the package. “Huh. Whatever it is, it’s tightly-wrapped,” he mused. “It’s probably just clothes, but it feels too heavy to be Christmas pajamas.”

“As if Lucien would ever buy you pajamas,” Tamlin said, smiling.

“Good point,” Jurian said, hefting the box. “Hmm. A blanket, maybe?”

Tamlin slid the card into his pocket and chuckled. “You look like a big kid shaking your presents the day before Christmas,” he said wryly. “Did you ever open them early, just to see if you were right?”

“You bet I did,” Jurian said, smirking as he set the large box on top of the desk. “My parents had to get pretty creative to fool me.”

“Sounds like you were always meant to be a detective, then.”

“Huh. I guess I was,” Jurian agreed, reaching for some scissors. “Now let’s see how good I still am.”

As it turned out, there was more than one box tucked inside the larger one.

Jurian clicked his tongue and shook his head. “The old nesting doll trick,” he moaned. “I should have known.”

Tamlin allowed him to heft the smaller box before he opened it, though, just to give him a sporting chance.

“Books, maybe… No, wait. I’ve got it. T & J’s is a department store. It’s picture frames, or nothing. I’d bet my couch on it.”

As it turned out, he didn’t have to, because he was right. There were two picture frames inside, one for each of them, with pictures.

Tamlin smiled at his silver reindeer frame, but he had to chuckle at the photo inside it. He and Lucien were standing next to their newly decorated tree, he in his jingle-bell antlers and his boyfriend in an ugly candy-striped sweater, and making a heart with their outstretched hands. The rest of the photos that Jurian had taken of them that night were in a small envelope of their own. There was the one of them falling into each other’s arms and laughing, then hugging, and then just looking at each other.

He would have kept looking, but Jurian’s wistful sigh drew his attention.

His boss—and friend—was slowly flipping through his own stack of photos, featuring him and Vassa standing by the Christmas tree. The frame Lucien had chosen was tucked under his arm.

“So, what did you get?” Tamlin asked him politely.

Jurian’s gaze was soft and somewhat sad as he glanced up. “Hmm? Oh, it’s empty,” he said, turning the frame around. It was covered in sculpted silver snowflakes, but the frame itself had nothing inside it, just as he said. “I guess he knows Vassa and I aren’t together anymore. Not that we were ever together to begin with, I mean…”

Tamlin winced. “I think he just wanted to give you the choice in what photo you wanted to put inside,” he offered kindly.

“That’s very optimistic of you, but highly unlikely,” Jurian said, sitting on the edge of the desk. He set the silver frame aside. “I think he just didn’t want to hurt my feelings. This is the sort of gift you give your future in-laws when you want to impress them… or your boss, in this case.” He pointed at the framed certificates on the wall behind him. “Everyone who knows me knows I like my frames like I like my liquor: cheap, oak-y, and on sale.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes. “Or maybe—” he said, picking up the snowflake frame and brandishing it. “Lucien thought that Santa and his Little Helper would like a frame that looks more like it came from the North Pole instead of the bottom of a bargain bin.”

“Hey. My frames have character, even if they do give you splinters.”

Tamlin ignored his sarcasm. “He didn’t have to give you a frame,” he continued. “Or the photos. I don’t think Vassa would have let him give those to you if she didn’t still care about you, at least a little.”

Jurian’s pinched mouth softened. “You think?”

Tamlin nodded, then reached out and tapped at the topmost photo in Jurian’s hands. “I think you should frame that one.”

It was the one candid photo Lucien had managed to take of them, in which Jurian was gazing at Vassa with such tenderness, it was impossible to believe that he had been pretending the whole time. It had been real from the start. Only he hadn’t realized it yet.

Jurian let out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Maybe I will,” he said quietly, taking the frame from Tamlin’s hand. “It’s not going to match anything on my wall, though. I guess it will have to live on the desk for a while.”

Tamlin smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

“Yeah. And speaking of spirit,” Jurian declared, gesturing to the large box behind him. “You still have one more gift to unwrap. And—before you say anything—I highly doubt it’s for me. It’s got your name written all over it. Metaphorically speaking.” He held up a finger. “Unless…”

But even Jurian didn’t guess right this time.

It wasn’t a monogrammed quilt, like he thought, or a robe, for that matter.

It was a beautiful gray wool overcoat with a high collar and two rows of buttons. Tamlin slowly rubbed the thick fabric between his fingers. He couldn’t stop touching it. He couldn’t stop staring at it.

Jurian whistled. “Fancy,” he drawled, moving the empty cardboard box to the floor. “Now that’s the sort of coat you can take for a stroll downtown without freezing your ass off,” he remarked. “Where did you say Lucien was taking you, again?”

“We’re going to his family’s Christmas party. Well, it’s a company party. They have one every year,” Tamlin told him with a wincing smile, then shrugged. “He talked me into it.”

“Well, congratulations. Or, condolences,” Jurian said with a small bow. “I guess it depends on how cheap the Autumn Corporation is going to be. Either way, I don’t envy you.”

Tamlin huffed a shy laugh. “I don’t mind,” he said honestly. “Mostly I’m just nervous about meeting the rest of his family. I only met them once around the holidays about eight years ago, and that was before either of us came out.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” Jurian said, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “At least you know his brother likes you.”

“Yeah, but that’s just one of them. He has six.”

“Six? Good lord. His poor mother.”

Tamlin ducked his head to hide his nervous smile. “I remember she was really nice when I first met her, but that was before Lucien and I started dating.”

“Relax. She’s gonna love you,” Jurian said kindly, thumping him on the arm. “Now quit worrying. We’ve still got some cleaning up to do before we close up for the holiday, and we’ve got your boyfriend to thank for that.”

“Oh! That reminds me. I still need to call him,” Tamlin remembered, reaching for the card in his pocket.

“All right,” Jurian conceded, “but make it snappy. I don’t want to hit rush hour. Traffic is going to be crazy enough as it is.”

Luckily, Lucien picked up after the second ring. “Hey there, Handsome.”

Tamlin adjusted the receiver against his ear and smiled. “How did you know it was me?”

“I didn’t. I’ve been saying that all day, hoping you’d call,” Lucien teased. Tamlin laughed, and he could hear the pleased grin in Lucien’s voice when he continued, “So, I’m guessing you got my message.”

“I sure did, but Jurian and I were wondering why you went to all this trouble to have things delivered here when I’m going to see you in a couple of hours.”

“Well, you know me,” Lucien said unabashedly. “I just couldn’t wait until the party. Besides, shopping took longer than I thought, and I still have to give Vassa her gift. I’m on my way to see her now, actually. Did you know she’s coming tonight?”

Tamlin shifted the receiver to his other ear as he glanced at Jurian, who was putting her photo in his frame. “No… I didn’t know.”

“Do you think you can convince Jurian to come? It would be nice to see him and Vassa make up before the new year.”

They had certainly been cordial enough as they helped Tamlin move his things into Lucien’s apartment, but breaking down cardboard boxes was not the same thing as breaking down communication barriers.

Tamlin winced and looked away when Jurian noticed him staring. “I’ll try,” he told Lucien quietly.

“Thanks, Tam,” Lucien said warmly. “Before I go, how do you like your new coat? Is it too big? Is it too much?”

“No, I love it,” Tamlin assured him, folding back the tissue paper to look at his brand new coat again. “It’s perfect.”

“Good.” Lucien sounded relieved. “I was worried it wouldn’t fit, so…”

“Oh. I don’t know about that. I haven’t tried it on yet,” Tamlin said sheepishly. “Your card said to call…”

“Well, put it on!” Lucien said eagerly. “There’s still time to exchange it before we go to the party tonight.”

“Oh, okay. Um… Here. Talk to Jurian for a second,” Tamlin said, thrusting the receiver in Jurian’s direction. Jurian, who had been slowly cleaning up and pretending not to listen in, rolled his eyes as he reluctantly accepted the receiver.

“Hey,” he said flatly, then looked Tamlin over as he pulled the coat out of its box. “Yeah, he’s putting it on right now… Hmm? Oh, that. Yeah, thanks. The photos were a nice touch. You know, you’re not a bad photographer. Everything turned out real nice with the tree and everything—Ooh, not bad, Tam. Not bad,” he said with an approving nod, then paused to listen in. His brow furrowed. “What? I don’t—” He sighed, then tilted the receiver away from his mouth. “Lucien wants to know if you look hot in it.”

Tamlin’s cheeks warmed as he chuckled and pulled his hair free from the folded wool collar. “Tell him I think so.”

“He says he thinks so,” Jurian said obediently, then rolled his eyes. “You talk to him,” he complained, holding out the receiver.

Tamlin smiled shyly as he accepted it and traded places with Jurian at the desk. The duster-length coat swirled comfortably around his legs as he turned around and sat down. As he settled into the chair, he ran a hand over the soft wool. It was perfectly warm, and perfectly perfect.

“—on a scale of one to ten,” Lucien was saying on the other end.

Tamlin bit his lip, then told Jurian, “He just wants to know what you think, on a scale of one to ten.”

Jurian wolf whistled, loud enough for Lucien to hear, and Tamlin’s face turned pink.

Lucien laughed. “That’s more like it,” he said warmly. “Which reminds me. Have you found your other gift yet?”

“You mean the picture frame? Yeah, I love it.”

“That’s good, but check your left pocket,” Lucien said mysteriously. “No, wait! I mean the right one. Sorry. There’s two gifts, actually. One in each pocket.”

Tamlin bent his neck to hold the receiver in place as he reached inside the right pocket. “How many gifts does this make, exactly?”

“I’m not sure. I kind of lost count after buying those aprons.”

“Hey, new gloves,” Tamlin marveled, pulling them out.

“I hope they fit,” Lucien said shyly as he tried one on. “It was kind of hard to get your measurements without spoiling the surprise.”

“Huh. Well, that explains why you wanted to compare hand sizes last night,” Tamlin remarked, then caught Jurian’s cocked eyebrow. He blushed deeper and turned away.

Lucien breathed a laugh. “I was trying to be subtle.”

“You were,” Tamlin assured him. “I had no idea.”

“Good,” Lucien said warmly. “As long as I guessed right, that’s all that matters.”

“Mm, they’re a bit snug,” Tamlin admitted, flexing his fingers inside the fleece lined gloves. “But stores don’t usually have my size, anyway. Don’t worry about it,” he said, peeling it off again. “They’re great.”

“I’ll get you another pair,” Lucien promised. “Now, you can save the other gift for later if you want, but you have to promise to open it before sunset.”

“Uh, okay…” Tamlin’s brow furrowed as he reached inside the left pocket and drew out a small flat box with a hinged lid.

“Just in case you turn into a werewolf, remember?” Lucien teased.

Tamlin flipped open the lid, then stared at the spiked leather choker within.

“What is that?” Jurian asked, coming closer for a better look.

Tamlin snapped the lid closed and hid the box behind his back. “Nothing.”

Jurian looked at him askance. “Is that what I think it is?”

Tamlin quickly shook his head.

Jurian’s brows rose in understanding as he spread his hands wide and backed away. “You know what? You’re right. Forget I asked.”

“...Tam?” Lucien said, worry creeping into his voice. “Tam, are you there?”

“I’m—I’m here,” Tamlin rasped, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. Mm-hmm.”

“Did I go too far?” Lucien asked hesitantly. “I thought maybe it would make you laugh…”

“It’s… uh… definitely different,” Tamlin admitted, setting the box aside, then lowered his voice so that Jurian couldn’t hear. “You didn’t actually pay for silver, did you?”

“Would you be mad at me if I did?”

Tamlin grimaced.

“Don’t worry,” Lucien said quickly. “I’m pretty sure it’s stainless steel. I don’t actually expect you to wear it. I know you’re not a werewolf.”

“Do you, though?” Tamlin said in a low voice, surprising even himself.

“What? Oh. Ooh,” Lucien purred. “Maybe I don’t know.”

Tamlin bit back a laugh. “I guess you’ll have to wait until tonight to find out.”

“I can’t wait,” Lucien said in a low voice, then in a louder tone asked, “Hey, listen. I’m almost at Vassa’s hotel. How would you guys like to meet me there? They have a nice little bar just off the lobby where we could meet up for drinks. How does that sound?”

Tamlin bit his lip in thought. “Hmm. Let me ask Jurian.” He covered the mouthpiece with his free hand. “What would you think about dropping me off at Vassa’s hotel? Lucien’s on his way there now, and he’s offering to pay for drinks at the bar, if you’re up for it.”

Jurian hesitated, then shook his head. “Tell him ‘Thanks’, but I already have a date tonight with a hot pink couch. We’re going to split a couple beers and watch the game.” When Tamlin grimaced, he added quickly, “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not right now.”

Tamlin nodded and turned away. “Maybe another time,” he told his boyfriend.

“It was worth a shot,” Lucien said, sighing.

“Yeah,” Tamlin agreed softly.

Jurian interrupted, “Hey, I can still drop you off, if you want to go. I just can’t stay. You understand. Prior engagement, and all that.”

“Sure. Thanks,” Tamlin said, surprised, then passed on the news to Lucien. “Do you still want to meet up there? Can your convertible seat three?”

“Hmm. I’m sure we can work something out,” Lucien said distractedly. “Listen. Call me before you leave, and we’ll figure it out. Do you have the number for Vassa’s hotel in case you can’t reach me?”

When Jurian—reluctantly—admitted that he did, Tamlin told Lucien so.

“Great. Then I’ll talk to you soon. Oh, and Tam?”

Tamlin paused. “Yeah?”

Lucien sighed softly on the other end. “I love you.”

Tamlin smiled. “I love you, too.”

* * *

Vassa was still wearing her robe when she peered through the opening of her hotel room door. Her surprised expression softened when she saw the wrapped gift in Lucien’s hand.

“You are early,” she said chidingly, even though she smiled and opened the door wider.

Lucien bent down to kiss her cheek. “Christmas is next week,” he told her as he stepped inside. “If anything, I’m late.”

She chuckled as she closed the door behind him, then slid the deadbolt into place for good measure. “And your party tonight?” she reminded him.

“Oh, that,” Lucien said teasingly. “That I’m early for.”

As he set her gift on the coffee table, he glanced around and asked, “So, how do you like your new room?”

“It is nice. View is better,” she said softly.

After Tamlin revealed that he and Jurian had been hired to report on Vassa’s whereabouts, it was agreed that she should change rooms, just to be safe. It was still registered under Lucien’s name, but it was one that Jurian hadn’t been to. It was on a higher floor, with a better view of the city, although they couldn’t see much of it at the moment. It had snowed earlier, but they were expecting more later that evening.

As Lucien shrugged off his coat, he noticed that Vassa remained by the door, hugging her arms.

“Hey… What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I do not think I should go.”

“What? Why not?”

She shrugged and looked away. “I have bad feeling. In here.” She pointed at her stomach.

Lucien relaxed a little. “Oh. You mean you’re nervous.”

She shrugged again. “I suppose.”

Lucien sighed and stepped closer. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Jurian’s not coming. He has other plans tonight.”

“Oh.” Vassa rolled her shoulders and lifted her chin. “With another woman?” she asked, trying—and failing—to sound disinterested.

Lucien tried to contain his smirk. “He didn’t say, but I doubt it,” he said honestly.

“Hmph. He certainly knows how to keep his secrets,” she said dismissively, then brushed past Lucien to reach for her gift. “What did you bring?”

Lucien breathed a laugh as he watched her lift it to her ear and shake it. “Careful. It’s fragile. Uh, it might break.”

“Oh,” she said apologetically, then gently returned it to its place on the coffee table. She sat down on the couch and carefully removed the top of the box, then gasped appreciatively at what laid within. “Oh, Lucien. It is beautiful,” she gushed as he joined her on the couch.

“To remember your first Christmas in Prythian,” he said, smiling as she brought out the silver snowflake ornament.

It glittered as it caught the light and dangled from the ribbon she held in her delicate fingertips. “Beautiful,” she said again in Scythian.

“There is one more gift,” he told her in her language, and folded back the white tissue paper to reveal the glittering picture frame underneath.

The silver snowflake frame matched her ornament, as well as the frame he had selected for Jurian, although he didn’t tell her that. He wanted them to discover that on their own. He wanted to believe that they could be friends again, even if they never dated again. Considering how intertwined their lives were, considering that Lucien and Tamlin now lived together, it would be easier on everyone if they could learn to get along.

As she admired the new frame, Lucien reached inside the box and drew out a small white envelope. “These are the photos from our tree-decorating party,” he explained, without opening the envelope. “You don’t have to look at them, but I wanted you to have them, anyway.”

Her smile faded as she hesitated, then slowly accepted the envelope. “Thank you,” she said softly, then set it aside without looking at them.

Although he was disappointed, he wasn’t surprised.

She must have noticed his expression change, for she repeated her “Thank you” in a much more sincere tone, then kissed his cheek. “You are most kind.”

“You are most welcome,” he told her in Scythian.

She beamed. “Come,” she said, seizing his hand. “Help me decide what to wear.”

“Oh! You’re going to come?” he asked as she pulled him to his feet.

“Yes,” she declared. “If Juri can—I mean, Jur-i-an,” she said, pronouncing his name carefully. “If he can have plans, then I can have plans.”

It was better than leaving her alone in her room all night, with only a television and a minibar for company, so Lucien didn’t argue. “What did you have in mind?”

* * *

By the time Tamlin and Jurian made it downstairs, it was getting dark.

Even though it was still technically afternoon, the thick clouds above their heads made it seem later than it actually was. The near-empty parking lot was covered in a light dusting of snow, and they were already expecting more. If they didn’t leave soon, they’d be caught up in it. Most of the workers in their building had already gone for the day, having started their holiday weekend early.

“You sure you’ve got everything there, Tam?” Jurian asked him, watching him pile his old coat and the coat box into the back seat.

Tamlin flipped his scarf over his shoulder, then patted at his new pockets. “I think so. I—wait.” He blushed as he remembered the spiked choker. “I forgot my, uh…”

“Your something,” Jurian said with a meaningful nod.

“Yeah,” Tamlin said meekly.

Jurian chuckled and shook his head, then opened the driver’s side door. “I’ll get the windows scraped off. You, go fetch,” he teased.

Tamlin’s blush deepened. “Yeah, okay,” he said, then quickly turned for the entrance.

His embarrassment only lasted as long as it took to call the elevator. As he slid his hands inside his new pockets, he caught sight of his—somewhat blurred—reflection, and he smiled. As he turned, his new coat swirled around his knees. His white scarf looked good with the fine gray wool, even better than his bomber jacket. This one was a lot warmer, too.

What a Christmas this was turning out to be. He now had a boyfriend, a bigger place to live, an actual bed, a warm coat, and his violin. It seemed that his luck had finally turned around, and for the better.

Cold air swirled into the lobby. Tamlin glanced up as three men walked through the doors, wearing long black coats. That wasn’t so unusual. What was unusual was that they joined him in waiting for the elevator. It was the last weekend before Christmas, and no one was doing business. Not at this hour.

Then again, it was none of his business what these men chose to do with their time. He didn’t know everybody in the building, after all.

When the elevator opened, a gaggle of women walked out, wearing red and green and chatting merrily as they carried out boxes filled with leftover holiday goodies. There must have been an office party upstairs. Tamlin might have wished them a happy holiday as they left the elevator, if he had been alone, but he found himself strangely self-conscious and unable to speak.

With the elevator now empty, Tamlin wished he could take the stairs, but the three men seemed to be… waiting for him. Nonsense. They were just being polite.

The elevator could hold eight men comfortably, but it seemed oddly cramped when the four of them got in, one in each corner.

Tamlin stood by the buttons, even though he would have preferred to stand by the doors. “Which floor?” he asked politely.

Two of the men looked wordlessly to the third, standing stoically in the opposite corner.

“Third,” the man said, with a hard accent.

Tamlin was too distracted by his pronunciation to press more than one button. If he had been thinking straight, he would have pressed Two, and then Three, and then taken the stairs the rest of the way. Slowly.

As the elevator doors rumbled shut, Tamlin pressed himself into his corner and took a deep breath. There was no reason to be nervous. These men were strangers, but he had ridden this elevator with strangers many times before. Besides, he was just as tall as they were, even if they did outweigh him in sheer muscle. At least, two of them did.

The third man, the only one who had spoken thus far, was tall and slender to the point of being gaunt. His closely cropped hair was so blond it was nearly white, and he had a neatly trimmed goatee. He had a cane, too, but that didn’t help Tamlin guess his age. If he had to guess, perhaps he was in his late forties, or early fifties. Not that it mattered.

Had the elevator always been this slow?

The white-haired man slowly tapped a bony finger against the hand holding his cane. A thick silver ring rested on his first knuckle. Tamlin tried not to stare at it, but the movement caught his eye, and the shape held his attention. The ring was shaped like a skull.

The man noticed him looking, and he smiled. It was not a friendly smile.

Tamlin managed a tight, polite smile in return, then looked away. His icy blue eyes were rather unsettling to look at.

It was like looking at a ghost. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator rumbled to a halt, and the door chimed sweetly as it opened.

Nobody moved, though.

“Please,” the man said, gesturing with a bony hand. “After you.”

Tamlin nodded politely, then hurried out. He forced himself to walk down the hall, although he would have preferred a brisk jog. Why was he so nervous, anyway? He didn’t know them. They didn’t know him. He hadn’t been visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past… unless he counted Lucien.

Tamlin shook himself. He was being silly. He was no Scrooge. He was just nervous about meeting Lucien’s family, and he was running late. That was all.

He glanced back over his shoulder. He hadn’t meant to, but he did it anyway. Not that he had any reason to worry. The three men hadn’t tried to follow him. They were simply examining the directory printed outside the elevator. The white-haired man had lifted that same bony hand to drag his skull finger down the list of names.

Tamlin shivered, and looked away.

Bah, humbug.

His hands shook when he tried to unlock the office door, and he cursed under his breath when he nearly dropped the keys. Maybe Lucien would forgive him for ‘forgetting’ the collar. It seemed silly to come all this way for a joke. What would he tell Jurian, though? That a group of strangers had followed him onto the elevator and given him the creeps? No, it was better to grab the box and get out and pretend this never happened.

He let out a sigh of relief when the key turned and the office door swung open. Leaving the keys in the lock, he rushed for the velvet box on the other side of the desk. Maybe he would even tell Lucien about it later, and they could laugh about it over pizza and a glass of wine.

But when he turned around, box in hand, he didn’t feel like laughing.

The skeleton man was standing in the doorway, and the other two men were right behind him.

“You are J. P. I.?” the man asked in that same hard accent.

Tamlin swallowed. “We’re closed,” he rasped.

The man smiled that same cool smile, then glanced over his shoulder and murmured something in another language. The other two men stepped closer. “But… the door is open, no?”

Tamlin slipped the box in his pocket and tried to think of a way out.

At his silence, the man continued, “You speak Scythian, yes?”

Tamlin’s blood ran cold. He knew that voice. “No,” he whispered.

The man continued to smile. “I think… you do.” He pulled Tamlin’s keys from the lock and pocketed them as he stepped inside the too-small office. “I think you know exactly who I am, and why I am here.”

Tamlin couldn’t think. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. It was like Amarantha had drugged him all over again.

This man had his keys. Koschei had his keys.

No. No. It wasn’t possible. Why would Koschei come all the way from Scythia? It didn’t make sense.

This was just a very, very bad dream. In a minute he’d wake up next to Lucien. That was good. After kissing him awake, his boyfriend would pull him into a nice hot shower to work out all the kinks from the night before. They had just finished unpacking, after all. They lived together now. That was worth celebrating. Maybe they could go out for latkes…

Maybe… after he woke up.

“You try my patience,” the man said irritably. “Where is my Vassa?”

Tamlin didn’t mean to, but his eyes fell to the framed photo on Jurian’s desk.

Unfortunately for him, Koschei noticed.

As he picked it up, he frowned, and his eyes were like blue ice. “Where is she?”

Swift footsteps sounded in the hall outside the door.

“Tam?” Jurian’s voice called out. “Hey! What’s going on? Get out of my way.” He shoved his way past the two men. “What are you doing in my…?”

He faltered when he caught sight of Tamlin standing on the other side of the room.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Tamlin said weakly.

“So, I saw these clowns follow you into the building,” Jurian said quietly. “I didn’t want to seem like a mother hen, but, uh… you know. You can’t be too careful these days.”

“Yeah. I know.”

The white-haired man turned the framed photo around and asked Jurian something in Scythian. Tamlin had a pretty good guess as to what he wanted.

Jurian straightened and rolled his shoulders. His face was grim. “Da.”

Koschei lowered the photo and smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile. “Good.”

[diana-bluewolf]

Ngl, this sketch was originally supposed to be Sebastian (LOL), but as I continued drawing, I realized he was shaping up to be very familiar, so I just went with it. Chris has apparently invaded my thoughts. <3

OMG! You have just started your art journey, and you drew THIS?! That's soooo cool!!! This fandom really is magical, and your dedication to hone a new skill and practise a lot and systematically is very admirable!👏 Thank you thank you thank you, it warmed my heart so much! You're doing really great, please keep drawing! 💙 💙 💙 

Sebastian: Well, Chris, I have to admit, you are quite handsome. Only in this picture, of course. Just because it was supposed to be me. Otherwise, I can't see how YOU turned up to be that good-looking.

Chris: If you have such a high opinion of your appearance, I have bad news for you - none of us don't even come close to being as well-proportioned as Ominis. 

Sebastian: … How can you say something like this while still being oblivious?

Chris: About what?

Sebastian: Nevermind…

[mari-lair]

Idk of u read the new chapter yet BUT these two panels look ODDLY similar...do u think teru and natsuhiko have similar powers or something?

I have a theory that is very out there, but since you asked my opinion...

Not only do I think there is similarity to their powers, I would go as far as to say Natsuhiko is part exorcist.

Exorcist blood has always been special. We see Teru open a gate between boundaries in chapter 70, and Yorimitsu used his blood to make a contract with No.6, so their blood has influence over the supernatural.

Natsuhiko is treated as a normal student, a living being: Everyone in Nene’s class can see him, he is part of class 2-D, and acts as if participating in the school festival is normal, unlike Sakura.

There is also this official art of him with a sword, which so far in the manga only exorcists have 'weapons'.

Natsuhiko does not exorcise supernaturals though, he lives with them, many of his quirks making him seem inhuman. And I personally don't think exorcists are fully human, they must have some supernatural blood in their lineage, some deep connection.

Minamotos are inclined to like supernaturals despite being tasked to eliminate them. Hanako is basically the personification of supernaturals to Kou but the young exorcist overall sees him as a friend, Tiara got attached to a Mokke, and even Yorimitsu, who had heavily implied there is something wrong with his emotional attachment, took a liking to No.6. He stayed with the demon on his death bed.

Humans also don’t have fangs, no matter how dramatic the manga paneling can get, only supernaturals and the Minamotos have fangs.

 Exorcists can eat monster's body parts without needing to make a contract, so while they have spiritual energy that is destructive to supernaturals, and resistance to their power, their body doesn't reject supernaturals and their influence.

Exorcists are built to give a lot of damage to supernaturals and protect humans, it is heavily implied their spiritual energy can’t hurt humans, but who can they hurt? Half humans, and themselves.

And Natsuhiko’s blood hurt supernaturals, not humans. Possibly himself too, since it is the first time he actually commented on how it's 'painful' to do this despite being thrown in deadly and hurtful situations a lot. (tho it could just be pain from the cut, I still find it strange he comments it's painful.)

He is influenced by rumors which is a supernatural trait, not a human one, and Minamotos are not affected by rumors.

...Or are they?

Since i’m already going wild, i’ll throw another out of pocket theory here: Teru does gain powers by rumor, that’s where his astronomical popularity comes from.

The other character we are told to be ‘the peak of beauty’ in this manga is Aoi, who was unnaturally beautiful since young, and attracted attention even as a toddler. While Teru seems isolated, not just from an ‘I'm not normal’ perspective.

But he got a popularity jump so big at some point that both boys and girls are interested, able to loudly proclaim their love, his beauty is so amazing it overshadows Aoi's, to the point, someone suggested they made a Teru pavilion. A pavilion that has a BIG line.

His beauty is the first thing we learn about Teru: His introduction is as a ‘handsome and dreamy boy’,  not as an exorcist or any of his main traits, because that’s what Nene, and most of the school, sees him as.

Such hypnotizing beauty mysteriously disappears outside school. He has no fans or stalkers on the streets, and absolutely no one that isn’t from school ever comments on his beauty. Which is not the case with Aoi. 

I know people have always been more respectful to Teru than to Aoi (misogyny is a bitch) but this is not just a change of approach caused by respect, Teru has no admirers at all in the city. Aoi is beautiful outside school too, people can’t help but stare and want her, it is a genuine problem she always had, but Teru, who should make everyone swoon regardless of gender or how weird he acts, is not worth even passing comments, he is treated as a normal guy outside school. A pretty boy, sure, but nothing special.

[wordsofwilderness]

What do you think james love language would be? And regulus as well?

I don't think it is possible to contain the man that James Potter is to only one love language. Oh no, he'd be finding new and creative ways to combine them all together. Thoughtful gifts with somehow even more thoughtful love notes attached with all the words of affirmation? Say no more, James is on it.

Regulus on the other hand is more complicated. It hard for him to express his love so he prefers ways in which it can be unspoken. Nearly invisible, but that only means it takes a keener eye to spot it, not that it isn't there. Little acts of service that anyone who wasn't looking wouldn't notice. His love is in how he makes sure to throw a blanket over James and tuck it in whenever James falls asleep on the couch. It's in how he knows how James likes his tea before they even got together just by being observant.

Regulus need words of affirmation more than he needs air, which James of course is more than happy to provide.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hey Mousy!

I was thinking about how reckless the farmer can be, you know, fighting monsters, overworking to maintain a farm, and even being a guinea pig for others.

But despite all that, the farmer stays alive (CofcofPoweroftheScrollandMr.Qicofcof)

But, how do you think the villagers would react to the news of the farmer's death?

Oh, pain... 🥲 Thank you for ask, Shiro 🫶

_________________________________________

It was rare to catch a conversation between Marlon and Lewis, but the old adventurer had come to the town mayor's home... with tragic news. Marlon himself was as gloomy as a dark cloud. The news he brought had shocked the equally old Pelican Town Mayor.

They're.... dead? In the mines?

Merciful Yoba.... But, they came here as farmer, why did they have to go into the most dangerous place?...

The next ones to be shocked were Dr. Harvey, who stated Farmer's official death, and Maru, who was helping him. The young inventor gasped in horror: seeing Farmer's body had made her sick, so Harvey had to do almost everything himself. All this was late at night, and just the next day in the afternoon, Maru was to meet her girlfriends at Haley and Emily's house to discuss various gossip. And Maru (unfortunately), also got some news.....

All the girls gasped after hearing this, Penny even dropped her tea cup from shock. Abigail turned even paler, because just yesterday she had begged Farmer to take her to the mines, but Farmer had politely refused her. Perhaps, because of this, they had saved her from death...

Pelican Town is a small town, and news of the death spread like the plague. Caroline and Pierre learned everything from their daughter, truly regretting the death of the young farmer. And even though Pierre was not close to them and for him it is, in fact, just the loss of another client, he does not wish anyone such a terrible fate, to die young, alone...

Gus didn't turn on the music machine in the Saloon, also giving himself over to mourning the loss of a member of their commune. Let the others not be fooled by the rather stale reaction of Shane, Alex, and George in calling the farmer a fool. They just don't know how to react to the loss of a loved one again.

It would seem that Clint couldn't have gotten any sadder than his usual state, but when the only person he considered a true friend dies... It's painful.

It's pain for Robin to construct a gravestone instead of useful buildings for farming. Sebastian, along with Abby and Sam shut themselves in his room in the basement, trying to hide from the pain that way. Vincent didn't understand at first why his parents sat sad, but Jas immediately realized why Aunt Marnie's eyes were red. She understood why Uncle Willy had taken off his hat as he saluted the dead farmer.

Everyone was at the funeral, mourning the young farmer. As dusk descended on the Valley, no one noticed several figures standing near the fresh grave. No one saw how Marlon placed their sword beside the grave, how Rasmodius made the flowers beside the grave grow, decorating it with a single movement of his hand. And how quietly Linus stood, whispering a farewell to the young soul who had not been afraid to go into danger to protect the people of Stardew Valley.

[lastlymatt]

Yeah tv!Alex is so different and honestly I think in a good way!

Book!Alex was always like, 'ugh I hate working for MI6, why do they keep dragging me in, I just want a normal life, I don't care that much about a random person in danger'.

Tv!Alex is like 'I don't care about skipping school to go save the world because I care that people are going to get hurt and the department is doing jack shit so I feel a responsibility to do the right thing'.

It's very different and I think TV!Alex has a lot more compassion and care in him and wants to help others and would sacrifice himself for the greater good. He is his father's son, and I think it makes a lot of sense that way, and I like how morally strong he is in the show, and a lot more mature.

Not that I dislike book!Alex, of course I love him, but he's definitely more of a 'kid', which while accurate to his age, I do like watching a more adult and mature Alex. (tbf though I haven't read the new books yet so idk if his characterization has changed)

I hope we do get a post-uni show with the same crew and we get to see Adult!Alex working for the department.

While you're absolutely right about how book!Alex is more of a 'kid' and very reluctant to go on whatever mission of the week, TV!Alex feels far more naive and innocent than his book counterpart despite being older.

Because book!Alex does come through when the threat is real. He wants to protect people and the world, just not when he's being blackmailed into it. He cares enough that he willingly puts himself in danger for a boy he barely knows in Ark Angel without anyone prompting him to.

A lot of the time, he saves people or goes after villains because he knows that MI6 is useless. They demonstrated that over and over again to him while TV!Alex hunts them down to get them to do something before being smacked in the face with the reality of the Department.

I will say he is absolutely more stubborn about going back to school and staying 'normal' than TV!Alex, but again, that is because MI6 keeps pulling him back.

TV!Alex gets blackmailed by Blunt once. A car doesn't show up in front of his house or school every other week, so he can be shipped all over the world to almost die for some goal he barely comprehends. He isn't forced into dangerous fabricated situations where he has to turn to MI6 for help in exchange for doing their dirty work.

TV!Alex instead goes through one harrowing experience and is then told to forget it ever happened. He isn't beaten down and almost murdered every other Tuesday, so of course, he has a stronger hold on his morals but he isn't the mature one here.

In fact, he seems incredibly naive when he thinks he can waltz into a criminal organisation, get his revenge on the Department, and go back home as if nothing happened.

Book!Alex tells Scorpia up front that he could never be a killer, but he still participates in all the lessons like he's told to and seems to have a better understanding of his situation despite not having both Nile and Yassen laying it out clearly for him.

I think book!Alex is also far more willing to join up with Scorpia because of how awful MI6 is to him compared to TV!Alex's Department. He also goes into his first conversation with Rothman, just wanting to know more about his father. Of course, the fourteen-year-old idiot would go with the people who are "honest" with him and treat him with more respect (and I say this as someone who cannot read anything where Alex stays with Scorpia)

TV!Alex goes in with the idea that he can somehow destroy Scorpia, but he gets manipulated from the moment he contacts them. He runs on the grief and need for revenge that Scorpia injects him with almost the entire time he's there.

They're both their fathers' sons, but their arcs are very different. One is very drawn out, and the other is cut short with a happy ending.

(This is very personal speculation, but I think that if the TV series had continued and Alex's family had been "killed" just like Jack in Scorpia Rising, then Alex would've also absolutely shot someone)

So yeah... very different characters with different arcs. The comparison gets a bit murkier because of the different mediums, but I hope I got my point across.

I'm very curious what they would do with an adult!Alex because they'd have to come up with completely new material for that, and it would remove one of the main aspects of Alex Rider that I enjoy, namely that he's a kid who shouldn't be there.

Personally, I just want an adaptation of Russian Roulette.

[inklessletter]

Confession time: I actually gave you a brush of this in previous confession times, but making the masterlist post I have just realized how brutally confident I just grew this June.

It's silly, but I'm getting emotional because of it. About eighteen months ago I started taking classes of digital art, although I've been drawing all my life, at some point I just stopped and it was suddenly ten years since I last picked up a pen and paper. I never, ever, have done digital art before last year.

It was good for me, I grew confident and I started showing what I did. I have very old folders full with traditional drawings since I was a little munchkin, but I have never shown those before in public. I wanted to take that back, the skill, the willing, the inspiration.

Last year I made some friends because of this artistic spree, but it ended up real bad. Like, real, real bad. Abandoning my nickname and fleeing social media for months bad. Going back to not showing my stuff in public. Losing everything I have been building up slowly, and that's how I got here.

I needed to leave my own mind behind and find something that gave me comfort and closure, so I came back to Stranger Things, something I liked in the loneliness of my bedroom, something that it felt like mine because no one around me loved it so much. I started reading fanfics, I've got a folder in my e-book with more than 200 of them (97% steddie). Then I started to feel that maybe I needed to take out some venom of my system, and I started writing some, even if it wasn't in my native language and I was terrified of making mistakes, because I just got the lesson that people hiding behind screens and shielded by anonymity could be ruthless, and cruel, and won't bat an eye if someone blatantly breaks you publicly.

But that didn't happen, and even if I had no range, I felt better writing, so I kept doing it. It felt like finally healing.

I eventually picked up the digital pencil again, believe me, with a lot of fear, after months of my last drawing. I'm talking from August to March. I just didn't want another ten years without drawing to pass. It felt like a baby step. A terrifying, unsure and shaking baby step.

I just didn't realize until today, making the masterlist, that I have done sixteen full illustrations in June. Sixteen. That's one (and a little bit) every two days. That's half a month drawing nonstop in my free time.

I don't know when I fell in love with it again.

I don't know many things.

But I know one: I'm grateful to be here, growing a little bit fearless everyday of just being me.

So, if you actually bothered to read all the way down here, let me thank you for being nice to a stranger. Keep doing it, you never know how much someone you don't know can be affected by a single nice act.

[nattousan]

@larvaloach 食べましょうか？

[zeroducks-2]

Okay but Zero. Zero Zero Zero. Service top Eo. Collared and worked up and panting on the end of a leash. Gripping the bottom’s hips and leaving claw marks as he tries to maintain the self control not to fuck them at the pace he wants to.

Let me welcome you to another episode of "You sent me a prompt but then my brain decided to do This Other Thing instead, really sorry about that".

(TW: NSFW, mutual noncon, dehumanization, long post)

The heavy loop attached to the front of his collar goes up and down as he rocks, keeping himself hilted in the wet heat of the Omega chained below him. “Slowly”, they said. “No knotting”. He trembles with the need to just snap his hips up but doesn’t, ignoring pleading mewls and begging little croons. The Omega is in heat, their scent glands swollen and inviting, but they said “no touching” and so Eobard keeps both palms planted to the sides of their head and keeps rocking, his claws painfully scraping against the metal slab the Omega has been strapped to.

«He seems so well behaved.»

«Indeed… this is one of our most fertile bitches and your boy is not even trying to smell them.»

Eobard barely hears the voices, focused on the way the Omega pants and starts to slowly arch up, their sex starting to clamp down. “No knotting”, that’s what he’s been told. He pulls back a little and arches as well, moving more quickly but without bottoming out, and the Omega chimes for him with a wordless plea. 

The weight of the collar reminds him that he needs to focus on something else, so he looks down, and their breasts say “five eight, for two”. They come from a facility too. Who knows who they were, before. The blue shackles around their forearms, not unlike the ones Eobard wears, suggest meta abilities but maybe they don’t even remember they possess them; their eyes are glassy, no light of understanding in them as they rock back in their bindings with breathless little moans. Do they remember their name…? He’s breathing hard too, he wants to paw at them and grab their chin to expose their neck, and bury himself into their heat, and-

He’s been told “no touching”, so he just leans down and his long hair brushes the sides of the Omega’s face, that’s not touching. They look up and arch as much as they can, whining, trying to reach him and breathe into his hair.

«Does he have an implant?» Another voice from the other side of the glass. 

«Absolutely not, we never use spinal implants. They shorten the lifespan of our products and reduce their fertility.»

Shocked murmurs from behind the glass. People are often so surprised to hear he has no implant.

«Take a look at his genetics.» Someone is saying and Eobard hasn’t been told he can stop, but he does it anyway. 

His shallow breathing slows down and the Omega below him struggles for a few moments but then quiets down as well, their eyes lidded and teary with overstimulation. His tamer is likely still focused on their intercourse but if he does this correctly it will look like he’s back to rocking his hips. 

«My god these are… flawless.» Someone else replies. «He was produced with nothing but quality in mind.»

«Indeed one of our best studs. Regardless of who you’ll pair him with, he’s bound to produce either a bitch or another stud.» 

More murmurs. They speak more about “three one, four three”. Eobard knows it’s him; he tends to forget those numbers but by this point he’s learned, and even the memory of when they got etched onto his skin has kind of dulled at this point. He needs to resume moving, and when he does the Omega's whine is so high-pitched it cuts the chit chat from behind the glass. He leans down more and rumbles so quietly, his instinct demanding he comforts the struggling little thing, but he can’t do that. No touching and no knotting, do everything slowly, show how good he is. 

Soon they order him off, and the quiet cries the Omega makes, trying to coax him back on top of them, force him to tune himself out of everything and just force his head into a blank space. He blinks back to reality with the interested buyers eyeing him, the Beta female of the couple turning his face this and that way, examining his features. 

«You were mentioning that the price is negotiable.» The Beta male is saying to the seller and he’s close enough, but Eobard stays focused on the woman, red eyes meeting her brown. 

«What’s your name?» She asks with a small smile, conversational. He quietly recites the numbers on his chest. «I’m asking your name, sweetie.» He blinks twice, and recites the numbers again. She offers an endeared look and pats his cheek. 

«We’re buying him.» She says, turning to her companion. «Take this ridiculous collar off and let’s bring him home. His pups will earn us a fortune, and there’s a chance they’ll be redheads too.»

The seller suddenly pales. «Oh, there is no need to remove it-»

«Why?» She reaches behind and easily unclasps the heavy leather from around his neck, and reflexively Eobard swallows over the strange absence of pressure. «What… is this…?»

«That is nothing. It’s just an old marking.»

«You did not mention that he’s mated.» The Beta male is saying, perceptible frustration in his voice. «We aren’t buying branded products.»

«This looks pretty old...» The woman considers with a frown, reaching up to touch the scar tissue on Eobard’s neck. He doesn’t growl. Doesn’t show his fangs, anything like that. He just stares her dead in the eyes, unflinching and unblinking, his expression entirely plain. Her hand pulls back before fingers can actually meet his skin. 

«I can guarantee you there hasn’t been any claim for restitution, either legal or informal. His mate is dead, whoever they were.»

«Then why haven’t you gotten rid of the scar?» The Beta male hisses, now clearly angered. «Let me guess, you tried and did not manage, because he’s still mated. Find someone else to scam.» The couple spins on their heels and leaves, ignoring any attempt of convincing them to buy him for a lowered price. Eobard is not surprised, no one ever buys him regardless of how flawless his performance turns out to be. This will get his tamers quite pissed at him, again, but there isn’t much that he can do about it. And he can’t deny to himself that all that fuss is amusing anyway.

[bluegekk0]

Is the White Lady a unique existence, or is there some sort of species that she is basically a divine exemplar of?

In the AU I imagine she's part of the pantheon of gods of the Hallownest area, alongside The Radiance, Grimm, Unn, as well as The Dream Lord (Grimm and Radi's father) and The Shade Lord, though those two are dead at this point in the timeline (well, The Shade Lord can technically be reborn as we saw with Ghost uniting the void, but it's a veeeery unlikely event, so I consider it dead dead). I also like the idea of there being other gods that either died or prefer to stay away from all The Gods' Plane drama, and simply watch over their domains in peace (perhaps they don't even have physical forms, which would explain why they were never seen).

Of course, there is some hierarchy between those gods - at their peak power, The Radiance and Grimm were the strongest (not counting their father and The Shade Lord), while Unn and The White Lady (perhaps her god name is root? And "The White Lady" is just a title) were much weaker. But after Grimm's banishment, and The Radiance's downfall and eventual death, I think they are somewhat even power wise now.

Since The Radiance and Grimm are connected to dreams and nightmares, what would WL and Unn be gods of? Well, for WL I think something like fertility would fit, considering her desire to breed. And Unn could be connected to nature and wilderness, perhaps she watches over the wildlife population to ensure they are at stable numbers and no manmade (bugmade?) extinction occurs. That could be interesting, especially seeing how closely related both of their domains and responsibilities are. A bit of rivalry that extends past the physical territory conflict would be very tasty.

But to get back to the point - WL is not a member of any species, she's a unique being just like the other gods. That's not to say she didn't have any ancestors, but I wouldn't consider that a species. They're too far removed from the mortals' biology for that to be entirely accurate. The White Lady FPK married was her physical form, and her godly form resides in her own realm. As a side note, I would love to design that form one day, sounds like a fun idea.

This is also another reason why FPK couldn't be considered a true god. He's a member of a species that isn't godly in nature, he doesn't have a godly form, he learned all of his powers and wasn't born with them. He also lacks many of the abilities the gods possess, such as free travel between the mortal and higher planes* (the ability Grimm was stripped of after being banished), the ability to control their fertility and to change shape of their higher form, among others. So next to all of the gods, he was always significantly weaker. But at the same time, what made him unfitting to sit among the pantheon, also made him more relatable to the mortals, which is how he was able to gain so many followers, and why the moth tribe ultimately decided to reject The Radiance in favor of FPK.

So in short. WL is considered a god in the AU. Not powerful enough to stop The Radiance's infection, sadly, but still one of the gods of Hallownest.

I hope this isn't too convoluted, I tried to simplify all the concepts from the game and my inspirations to the best of my ability. It's why i treat "higher being" and "god" as interchangeable, for the sake of convenience. Though the nature of god like creatures is that they're difficult to comprehend, and unfortunately I can relate to that feeling more often than not hahaha

---

* The "dream realm" he disappeared into was something his mind created at the moment he broke down, likely as a subconsciously manifested hiding place for safe hibernation. It used the same essence the gods use to travel between their own realms and the physical world, so it's very likely that he was in possession of a dream nail at the moment it happened. It is also why Grimm was unable to reach him, The Radiance took away his ability to travel between the shared plane and individual realms (with the exception of his own), so he was not able to enter the one FPK manifested

As for why WL did not attempt to visit him, there are two options that I'm debating on. Rither she was unaware of it/was made aware of it but was determined to stay in her bindings for the best of everyone, or FPK's manifested dream realm had some kind of seal that prevented anyone from entering it. I'm leaning more towards the second option (or a combination of both), but I still have to figure out how Ghost was able to enter. Perhaps being in possession of a dream nail helped? It condenses the essence into a small, focused form, so it's possible that was enough to break the seal (it would also tie nicely to the high essence requirement in the game). That, or perhaps the seal weakened over time, but at that point everyone gave up trying to reach him, until Ghost arrived. or maybe it was a bit of both.

[spaghettibabie]

Working on my The Path fic rn I’m so excited to publish the first chapter (I’m indecisive and can’t even figure out a sentence to start the whole thing off)