#lykaios writes

[lykaios2]

hear me out reader x donnie where reader can and will pick donatello up bridal style for the fun of it

thank you for the request :]

you guys are actually gonna make Donnie my favorite my turtle with the amount of asks about him 😭😭 please give me asks about Mikey (my real fav)

anyway I did both headcanons and a short little fic because I felt like it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-When you two first got together, this was not a habit at all

-Of course, neither of you even knew about this

-Being shorter than Donnie, it was a certainty for both of you that picking him up was out of the question

-That was, until one day

-Being the clumsy person he is, Donnie tripped backwards over something over the floor

-Thank Galileo that you had been behind him to catch him

-...

-Wait...you caught him?

-Oh boy. It was on now.

-Every moment he wasn't paying attention, you would sneak up behind him

-He would freak out as you scooped him up into your arms

-Anytime, anywhere. It was always free game

-Sometimes you did it to annoy him, like if he was talking his brothers

-Sometimes, you did out of pure affection, picking him up and giving him kisses and nuzzles

-And of course, quite often you had to pick him up out of his chair while he was working late into the night

-Then dragging him into his bed, and holding him there until he finally agreed to sleep

"y/n! I demand you set me down at once!"

You giggled as he resisted yet again. He writhed and wriggled in an attempt to release himself from your hold, but you didn't budge. He had tried this before, but it never worked. As you walked your way over to the bed in his lab, his body went limp as he gave up. You set him down carefully on the bed, and you laid down next to him. You wrapped your arms around him to ensure he didn't escape, and waited for him to finally submit to your hold.

"y/n, I insist. Please let me get back to work, this of utmost importance."

"Aw...you won't even lay down with me for a few minutes?"

You looked up at him with the signature puppy dog eyes that you used every time. Donnie looked away, trying so hard not to look at your face. But he gave in yet again.

"Reluctant sigh...I suppose I can spare a few minutes."

You smiled at him and pulled him closer. He softly smiled back, and pulled out his phone to pass the time. Much to your satisfaction, he had forgotten about his promise for "just a few minutes", and kept scrolling through his phone. Eventually, he yawned and set his phone down, letting his head rest on yours. He closed his eyes and gave in to the sweet temptation of slumber that tugged at his tired body, being comforted by your warmth and touch.

#rottmnt #tmnt 2018 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #donnie rottmnt #donnie x reader #donatello x reader #rottmnt headcanons #lykaios writes

[kittykittyanon]

♡♡introooo!!! ---- (≧▽≦)//

woah!! hii!! welcome to my blog!! whaaat!??!! (°ロ°) !

this was made cause i think aggressive anon and worm are really cool and i really liked the idea of making an anon blog, i think was the word?? (and i'm too nervous to just talk on my main),, so yay!! credits to them :DD

i'm really anxious and i'm scared of social interaction,, but with the shield of anon, i feel a little bit more confident now!! yippeee!!! (≧▽≦) (≧▽≦) !!!

pronouns are she/they,, and also BOO!! AGE REVEAL!! i'm 14 WOAHHH!!! GAHH!!!! Σ(°ロ°) Σ(°ロ°)

please please please tell me if anything i do or say upsets or hurts anyone,, it's kinda hard for me to tell tones and i don't wanna be mean or insensitive or anything,, so by all means,, call me out!!

uhhmm,, uhhh,,,, i like art and music and and aaaand turtles that are teenagers and mutants and who also, possibly, maybe live in the sewers (/j) feel free to talk to me about literally anythinggg!!╰(*´︶`*)╯

i think i'll just kinda,, sit here, i guess?? i'll use this to reblog stuffs and post random whatevers,, i will probably pop up somewhere and actually get the somewhat confidence to show my appreciation towards a couple people i've been following on my main that i was too nervous to talk to sooo yah!! im so sorry for making this so long, this took me a while to get the courage to post,, thank you for reading!!!

edit!! i changed my prns from she/her to she/they!! going to try it out for a little and see if it feels right (*´▽`*)!!

tags!!!;; #kittykitty interactions , #kittykitty reblogs , #kittykitty art , #kittykitty asks , #kittykitty rambles , #kittykitty yaps , #kittykitty treasures , #kittykitty hoards , #kittykitty writes

my amazing mooties' tags!!!!;; #rocky!! rocky!!! , #zeepie beepie!!! zeepie deepie!!!! , #big sib aggie!!! , #omg hi frankie!!! hiii!!!! , #woah!! chip is here!! hi chip!!!! // #chippy chip chipper chippzie!! , #the wormiest worm ever!!! , #finnie forevermore!!! finley!!! finn!!! , #woah!! its lykaios!! hii!! , #skrap-a-skrip!! ,, #the loveliest amor!!

#UWEHHHH HELP IM SO NERVOUSSS #theres a lot of people i think are cool here #clinging to the ceilings hoping people dont notice me #very excited but also very scared #and frankie will probably see this so hi frankie!! hii!! haiiii!!!! #okay i will shut up now #explodes #kittykitty interactions #kittykitty reblogs #kittykitty asks #kittykitty art #kittykitty rambles #kittykitty yaps #rocky!! rocky!!! #zeepie beepie!!! zeepie deepie!!!! #big sib aggie!!! #omg hi frankie!!! hiii!!!! #woah!! chip is here!! hi chip!!!! #the wormiest worm ever!!! #finnie forevermore!!! finley!!! finn!!! #woah!! its lykaios!! hii!! #skrap-a-skrip!! #kittykitty treasures #kittykitty hoards #kittykitty writes

[shinra33459]

Lykaios Custom Lore/Backstory

(Screenshot credits to Fox-Petal-Designs on DeviantArt)

After using this mod for a while and falling in love with it, I decided to make some backstory/lore for the Lykaios since there isn’t much backstory within the mod. As a side note, I used the Creation Kit to turn some Nord NPCs into Lykaios so it would fit the backstory. I wrote the following in the perspective of an Imperial scholar, and I hope you all enjoy!

The Lykaios, A Long-Lost History By Sven Ice-Hilt, Imperial Scholar

The Lykaios, my people, my culture, and who I am. Distinguished reader, my name is Sven Ice-Hilt, and while my name may scream that I must be a Nord, I am anything but. In fact, I am a Lykaios, a wolf-like Beast Race native to the cold, and unforgiving northern climate of Skyrim.

The history of my people has mostly been lost to time, and what little knowledge that we retain of our history, I wish to make known to anybody who who decides to learn the knowledge contained within this volume. Many of my own people have forgotten our history, and the people of Tamriel barely know of our existence due to our reclusive nature and a desire to stay within the borders of our frigid homeland.

We lived in Skyrim since before the Nords came from Atmora and took it for their own. The history of our inception is unknown, but we are believed to be related to the assumedly extinct, fox-like, Lilmothiit people. It is assumed that some of the Lilmothiit migrated north from Black Marsh to Skyrim and settled there, evolving to be able to withstand the frigid temperatures of Skyrim's northern climate.

After migrating to Skyrim, we maintained a semblance of stability and peace with the Snow Elves and the Dwarves. Our peace, however, was short lived, as when the Snow Elves waged war against the Nords, it almost cost us everything. After the Night of Tears, the Nords sought revenge for the slaughter of their people by the Snow Elves, a revenge that included the Snow Elves themselves, and anybody who dared to call themselves allies of the Snow Elves.

We were an ally of the Snow Elves for a time, but after the Night of Tears, we slowly separated ourselves from the Elves. When the Nords returned from Atmora, however, they knew not of our desire to distance ourselves from the Elves. Many Lykaios villages were slaughtered and razed to the ground. Only after one of our most powerful chiefs, Nokose, negotiated with Ysgramor, did the Lykaios finally see peace once again. Our people were never the same, as to this day, many Lykaios choose a nomadic lifestyle traversing Skyrim opposed to forming settlements of our own.

Throughout the eras, the Lykaios people have maintained a stable peace with the Nords, living our lives as we see fit. All throughout Imperial history, the Lykaios have been there: from the age of dragons, to the formation of the Empire, to the Oblivion Crisis, and finally to the Great War. We, as a people, have fought side-by-side by those who would protect our people, and we have been loyal to the Empire ever since its inception.

Over the course of many centuries, the Lykaios gradually became assimilated into Nord culture. The only things remaining of our culture at of the time of writing in 4E 192, are our distinct hairstyles, our proud cultural rituals surrounding hunting, and our general reclusiveness to the outside world. Few Lykaios choose to leave Skyrim and instead choose to remain within our homeland. Few choose the scholarly lifestyle, and even fewer choose the adventurous life of military service.

As civil unrest grows in Skyrim, the Lykaios feel threatened. We see the rising racial tensions growing in our homeland amongst the Nords who we once viewed as our brethren at a time. With the rhetoric preached by Ulfric Stormcloak, and his decrees which have disenfranchised the Dark Elves and the Argonians within Windhelm, many Lykaios fear that the countless centuries of peace that we fought and died for will be discarded completely if Ulfric Stormcloak and his growing rebellion succeed.

#skyrim #The Elder Scrolls #skyrim mods #skyrim mod #elder scrolls lore #fanfiction #creative writing #tes v skyrim #TESV #elder scrolls #lykaios

[akitforlife]

So I am writing a paper on Classical werewolf elements in Teen Wolf (there are a few!), so as part of my research I'm dwelling a bit into Greek and Latin werewolf folklore. This is what I have written so far...:

Greek and Roman stories of humans transforming into wolves fit only with difficulty in the established categories of ‘werewolf’ that appear in the literature about the supernatural,[1] because they are a range of examples where humans transforming into wolves at will, forcefully, regularly, permanently, and temporarily. Some of the human-wolf transformation stories can be excluded from proper werewolf lore, as they involve witches, sorcerers and herb collectors transforming themselves or other people. These include mentions of Circe turning men into wolves,[2] shamans deep in Scythia who could turn their people into wolves,[3] and witches and herb-collectors like Meroe who could turn whenever they wanted.[4] Similarly, ‘lycanthropy’ was considered to be a medical condition in later medical treatises; a melancholy of sorts that caused those who suffered it to vague at night time around the streets with dogs (and wolves), bumping their shins against tombstones.[5]

However, at least nine stories of true werewolves have come down to us in various forms, and they are a testimony to the rich werewolf folklore of the Classical world.[6] The most famous example nowadays is the story-within-the-story about the soldier in the Satyricon.[7] In this story, Niceros tells during Trimalchio’s dinner how he was travelling with a soldier who, during the night, took off his clothes by a monument in a graveyard, pissed around them, and turned into a wolf while his clothes turned to stone. The most repeated and widely-circulated story in antiquity, nevertheless, is that of Lycaon of Arcadia and the rites associated with the cult of Zeus Lykaios, which will be detailed below.

From these Classical stories about wolf shape-shifters, however, we cannot create a ‘Classical werewolf archetype’ that matches every story. This is, above all, because werewolves belonged in Greek and Latin folklore, and their sole purpose was to be the main focus of a story. Because of this, they were never part of a larger narrative (or an educated one, Lycaon being the main exception), and the werewolf existed in the way and form required by the story it appeared in.[8] We can, however, highlight a handful main characteristics that seem common across these tales.

To start with, Classical werewolves all show a full transformation from human to wolf and vice versa, without it being possible which one is the ‘original’ shape. From this we can infer that these werewolves kept their human sense of self even while in wolf form.[9] This preservation of the human consciousness is key, because werewolves in wolf form must be able to take certain conscious decisions in order to shift back. Discarding their human clothes and recovering themwere essential steps in the transition human-wolf-human, and the same could be said about avoiding human contact or interaction with other humans.[10] Also, the way becoming a werewolf was transmitted was not through a bite or a scratch, but rather by breaking bread with a stranger,[11] something perhaps designed to warn travellers, as a moral to werewolf stories. Lastly, we find that their eyes glow, sometimes with fire, to signify their supernatural essence.[12]

The stories about Lycaon are intrinsically connected with a series of religious rituals that existed in Arcadia and that were focused around the cult of Zeus Lykaios, offerings that included human sacrifices, and rites of passage.[13] These were already discussed in Platonic texts and compiled by Herodotus,[14] but Pliny discusses these rituals and links them to werewolf folklore (fabulae), albeit if simply to underline the gullibility of the Greeks. Pliny and, later, Pausanias, mention how during the ceremonies linked to the temple of Zeus Lykaios, local young men go through a rite of passage in which, after de-robing themselves and making the recommended offerings, they cross a pond from which they emerge as wolves, and they live in that wolf form for years (up to nine), only to return back home as men if they abstain from having contacts with other humans, eating human flesh, or staring into a man’s eyes.[15]

These defining characteristics do not seem to be much, but are already very different from medieval perceptions of the werewolf ―the kind of which are later adapted in nineteenth-century Gothic literature and, from them, to modern fiction.[16] Classical werewolves do not ‘shift’ into wolf-human hybrids, nor do they become senseless monsters; and if they go on killing sprees, it is usually sheep that are the target, not directly other humans.[17] In some aspects they are similar, since werewolves follow deeply-rooted Indo-European tales of the dangers that lie beyond the known space, especially in the forest where wolves dwell, [18] and it is possible that the moon had an effect on their transformation,[19] but the werewolves of Classical folklore fail to match the current expectations of werewolves in fiction.

[1] Ogden (2021) 7, n. 27, citing de Blécourt (2015).

[2] Hom. Od. 10.210.

[3] Hdt. 4.105.2.

[4] E.g.: Apul. Met. 2.22-5; Verg. Ecl. 8-9.

[5] Metzger (2015).

[6] Ogden (2021) 206-7.

[7] Petron. 61-2.

[8] Odgen (2021) 8-9, 210.

[9] Odgen (2021) 7.

[10] Ogden (2021) 82-4.

[11] Petron. 62. Niceros swears he would not share food with the man after finding out he was a werewolf: nec postea cum illo panem gustare potui, non si me occidisses. Cf. Ogden (2021) 99.

[12] Ov. Met. 1.238 idem oculi lucent; cf. Ov. Am. 1.8.15-6, Philostr. VA 4.10.

[13] Odgen (2021) 178-86.

[14] Ps. Plato Min. 315b-c and Hdt. 7.197, as cited by Ogden (2021).

[15] Plin. Nat. 8.80-1; Paus. 8.2.6. Cf. Gordon (2015) 47.

[16] Crossen (2019).

[17] Gordon (2015).

[18] Bernhardt-House (2006) 160.

[19] Odgen (2021) 191-2.

OHH THIS IS SO COOL.

I had never heard of like actual lycanthropy diagnoses?? That’s sick. “Bumping shins against tombstones” what a symptom!!

And the idea of being unable to pin down the archetype by virtue of werewolves being designed however the story needed them to be– so true!! I hadn’t thought about that but it definitely changes how our perceptions of what a werewolf is "supposed" to be.

And the breaking bread story– I understand it serving as a warning, that makes sense, but there’s something very sweet there too. Taking that idea and putting it in a teen wolf lens (how can I not?) it just indicates something more built on community which I love!

Thank you sm for sharing!! :D

#this was very interesting. love the way people have always told stories <3 #asks #rhyslahey

[pidgecv]

I felt the need to write the meeting from Cleo’s perspective. Pls look at lykaios’ original work which I have reblogged recently because I love it so so much and I did not write the dialogue or plot of this at all I could literally never omg it’s so good hehe BUT without further explaining I wroted :3

In Cleo’s defense, she wasn’t in her right mind that day.

It had been another sleepless night in the base. Ever since the building collapse, her once endearingly tiny base felt like a coffin. Every spot of mold and hairline fracture in the drywall working to make her hands shake and her heart race. She couldn’t shut her eyes without feeling the weight of the ceiling caving in on her, crushing her lungs and burying her alive. 

Nowadays she wasn’t sleeping. She would search until her body shut down, only to wake maybe one hour, one day, one week later to her own screams and tears, so violent they would cause her to choke on the bile and salt water. 

Cleo had been searching for supplies when she saw a smudge of color dart in front of her and behind a wall.

“Ellie?” Cleo called out tentatively, moving towards the wall where it went. It had been just the right size to be her. Cleo must’ve found her. She quickened her stride and called out again.

“Ellie?!” Her search took her out onto the street. Her instincts were screaming at her to get out of the open, stop making so much noise, but her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain that it wouldn't have made a difference. 

“Ellie! Where are you?” A few seconds passed and she heard a loud slamming sound from around the corner. She froze, heart soaring. 

“Ellie? Is that you?” Cleo made a point to slow down and lower her voice. Her sister could be hurt or disoriented. The last thing she wanted was to scare her. She heard the slamming sound again and managed to catch a glimpse of a small window inset into the ground shutting. She closed the gap between her and the window as quickly as she could without running. The window was latched, normally she’d be able to open it with a bit of fiddling but with her shaking hands and cloudy mind it was impossible. She braced herself and kicked in the window, flinching at the noise and hoping that she didn’t scare Ella too much. 

Cleo slipped in, minding the sharp edges of the window and looked around for any sign of her little sister. The room was reasonably sized, and strangely enough didn’t look abandoned. There was no dust anywhere at all, which set Cleo’s alarm bells off immediately, but she ignored them in favor of looking for any signs of her sister. 

“Ellie, please.” She pleaded. “It’s me, Cleo! I’ve been looking for you for- so long!” Cleo was stumbling over her words in desperation. A sight that would’ve been embarrassing if someone else was there to see it.

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” 

Cleo decided not to dwell on the fact that she already had.

“I just want to see you again..”

She felt her voice trailing off.

“.. please.” 

Cleo let the silence hang in the air for a minute, trying to listen for anything around her beating heart. Then a pair of arms grabbed her from behind. Cleo screamed. 

Cleo was going to die. 

“Let go! Let me go! Get your hands off me!” She thrashed and yelled, doing everything she could to claw at the unseen attacker short of biting it, which she couldn’t do because of the cloth mask covering her mouth. A cold hand clasped itself over her mouth, muffling her protests and boy did she wish she could bite now. She gave up on words and continued to struggle, screaming wordlessly against the hand over her mouth. One of the arms let go of her and during the shift she managed to squirm out of the grip of her attacker, whirling around and pulling out her axe in one clumsy motion. Cleo was disoriented, trying to catch her breath against the mask that suddenly felt less like safety and more like death. 

She took a moment to analyze her opponent, who had pulled out an incredibly large knife and was holding it far more comfortably than she was holding her axe. Her opponent was tall and- infected?? 

Cleo was going to die. 

“You.. you’re human. You’re not infected… or are you?” The infected spoke to her. Cleo knew she wasn’t exactly in her best state of mind, but she was very sure that the infected were not supposed to do that. 

This thing was dangerous.

“Please, no, I’m not, I swear.” Cleo couldn’t keep the terror out of her voice. She could only hope that whatever was in front of her couldn’t pick up on her unbalanced stance or the shake in her shoulders. She couldn’t fight this thing and she couldn’t run either. The only exit to her knowledge was too hard to get to and out of with her attacker right there. Cleo shouldn’t have been so stupid. 

“I’m just looking for my sister.” Cleo hated feeling so out of control of these situations. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling though. 

“Your sister, is that Ellie?” The infected spoke up again. The curiosity seemed almost genuine, but Cleo couldn’t help but turn cold when something that dangerous mentioned her sister so casually.

“How did you know?” Cleo risked the question.

“I heard you as you were coming here.” Oh. Cleo felt so stupid. She shouldn’t have been yelling anyways. Now she was going to die.

So she chose to beg. 

“Look, I’m really sorry about this.” She tried to stand up taller, to take control of the situation while lowering her axe to hopefully not threaten the infected who she sure as hell was not going to fight. She swallowed her fear and continued. “I didn’t know anyone would be in here, I promise.” 

“Do you work for anyone? Are you part of any group or organization?”

Cleo would ask the same thing in all fairness, though she couldn’t help but take slight offense to the idea. She’d always hated those survivalist groups. They were dangerous. But maybe this thing was part of a group? Maybe it was trying to see if it could kill her without any consequences? Cleo choose her next words carefully.

“No… I only had my sister.” She admitted. Normally she wouldn’t mention Ella in this sort of situation, but the harm was already done. “But I lost her when a building collapsed while we were inside-“ Cleo explained her situation to the infected, who seemed pretty receptive and attentive. She’d never spoken her situation out loud before, and she could feel tears forming as she spoke. She forced them down. She could not appear weak here. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and she could feel herself becoming hazy again, mind disturbingly blank and senses dull given the situation she was in. She needed to escape. The infected spoke again, cutting through the fog.

“Listen, I’m not the only one here.” Cleo froze. Her brain kicked back into high gear as her eyes darted around the room, looking for any sign of a hidden accomplice. “I’ve been living with someone else of late, but they’re not here right now.” Cleo tried not to relax too much at that information. “For safety reasons, I’m going to keep you here until they come back.”

Cleo was going to die.

That statement was very clearly code for “I am actually part of a group and need a higher-up to decide what to do with you, probably kill you.” She would die if she stayed here, plus she might lose track of Ella. Though she honestly wasn’t so sure anymore if what she’d seen was Ella in the first place. She tried to plead again. 

“Wait, please.” She tried to keep herself calm, but she couldn’t breathe around that stupid mask. “I need to leave. I need to find my sister-“ 

The infected cut her off there, infuriatingly calm.

“I understand that, but I can’t let you leave without knowing what you’ll do after.” It spoke like it was explaining something to a cornered animal. Cleo sure felt like a cornered animal. Like one of those street cats that Ella used to feed. 

Cleo wasn’t going to win a fight in her state anyways. Her vision was blurry and her hearing was muddy. So she backed herself into a corner as far away from the infected as possible and sunk down to the floor, making herself as small as possible. The infected paid her no mind, staying in the room but pretty much ignoring her, eventually exiting the small room and shutting the door. Effectively blocking her exit.

Cleo didn’t know how much time passed like that, with her in a ball on the ground too terrified to even breathe or shift her weight as the infected shambled around in the other room. But eventually she heard the sound of footsteps above her. The infected sighed in relief(?) and Cleo made herself even smaller. Eventually there was the sound of a trapdoor opening and the infected started chatting with the new arrival. Cleo couldn’t even listen in properly, she felt like she was underwater. She couldn’t escape, and now she was out of time.

Cleo was going to die.

The door swung open and Cleo shot up, eyes widening as she got a good look at the people on the other side. Both of them were infected. Though the new infected seemed just as surprised to see Cleo. 

“What?! V, what’s going on?” The first infected’s name must be V. “Where did this girl come from?” 

Cleo could hear anger mixed into the new infected’s tone, causing her to flinch. She really was the higher up. This new infected would decide if Cleo lived or died.

Cleo was going to die.

“As far as I know, the outside. She came in through one of the windows, looking for her sister.” 

Cleo shouldn’t have. She should’ve known better. She knew better.

What happened next disturbed Cleo more than anything else could’ve.

“Her sister?” The infected looked at her curiously. “Did you lose your sister?”

The voice was softer than before. Cleo just nodded. It was the truth after all. 

“Oh that’s so terrible, I’m so sorry to hear that.” There it was again. The humanity. The genuineness. Cleo tried so hard to ignore that tone, those words. The infected walked into the room, sitting down next to her. The new infected appeared unarmed at the moment, and Cleo still had her axe which brought her some peace of mind. Though it wasn’t like she could make a move here as outnumbered as she was. 

Maybe it was a trick?

Cleo was so tired.

The infected turned its attention back to V. 

“What happened after she came in the window?”

“Well..” V seemed almost nervous. Actually it seemed incredibly nervous. “I didn’t know what to do, because I didn’t really know anything about her and what her plan was. So I waited in here until she walked past me, then I grabbed her from behind and-“

“Woah, what the hell?” The new infected interrupted. This sparked a quick argument between the two, until the infected decided that it could wait and be addressed later. 

Surprisingly, the infected turned its attention back to Cleo. She wished she could sink into the floor and disappear. 

“I’m sorry for what my friend did to you.”

What?

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

Cleo just blinked at the infected sitting next to her. 

“And we’re gonna help you find your sister.” Cleo was not happy with that proposal. 

“Woah, hey now.” And neither was V it seemed. “You’re not calling the shots here. Let’s at least talk about this.” 

“V, shut it. You don’t get a say in this after what you’ve done to this poor girl. Probably scared her out of her mind.” So this infected was the leader? Maybe they both ran a faction? But V had said that this new infected wasn’t calling the shots. Wait, Cleo couldn’t let them help her with this!

She didn’t want the help. She didn’t need the help. She wanted out.

She didn’t want to explain anything else to them.

She couldn’t explain.

“No. I can’t let you do that.” Cleo spoke up, cutting off the other two’s bickering. “I need to find her on my own.” I need to prove that I can fix this.

“What? Let us help you. It’s dangerous out there,” Cleo didn’t mention that these guys were the most immediate threat to her at the moment “you’ll be safer with us.”

“Please, just let me go.” Cleo staggered to her feet, before firmly declaring “I don’t need help.” She was exhausted. Then V spoke up again. 

“I hate to say it, but I’m with Jo on this one.” So the other one was named Jo. “We both struggled to live on our own.” Cleo wasn’t struggling. Cleo was alive. These guys weren’t. 

“I said no.” 

She knew she was in no place to be making demands. But she’d fight for this. She’d literally die on this hill. After a moment of silence, Jo started talking.

“Please, can you at least let us help you? We don’t have to help you find your sister, but it’s still dangerous out there. We have food and a place to stay.” 

Cleo thought about her coffin. She thought about the dwindling supplies in her storage. Things were harder to come by nowadays and she hadn’t been scavenging as much or as well as she should. Her current lifestyle.. wasn’t sustainable. At all. Besides, she was in no place to be making demands. If it got these guys to let her go, it sounded like a win for her. 

Plus, she had been lonely. 

Maybe these guys weren’t so bad.

“Yeah… that sounds nice.” She admitted, defeated. 

“Alright then.” Jo wasted no time. “What’s your name by the way? I don’t think we ever asked.”

Cleo debated giving a fake name for fun, but ultimately decided against it.

“It’s Cleo.”

“Well, come on then, Cleo. I imagine you’re probably not feeling too well. V can get you fixed up right away, maybe as an apology for what he did earlier.”

“Okay! Alright! I get it! Shouldn’t have done that…still don’t think it was completely unreasonable, though.”

#cvwrites #final lives au

[noctepythonissam]

Castle of Sins

The castle of Sins is The Tale of the Seven Sinful Sisters will tell you the lives of seven sisters with very peculiar destinies...

Will you be ready to discover and follow what destiny holds for them?

🐍 The beginning

🐍 Welcome to Devildom (1, 2)

🐍 First days in Devildom (1, 2 & 3) 

🐍  It’s still just the beginning… (1 & 2)

🐍 Deep bonds…

#Cléo Lopez del Castillo #Stephanie Lopez del Castillo #Solange Lopez del Castillo #Luane Lopez del Castillo #Lygia Lopez del Castillo #Luciana Lopez del Castillo #Bella Lopez del Castillo #Catarina Lopez del Castillo #Miriel #Kiyomi #Lissandra Lykaios #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me fanfic #obey me writing #obey me imagine #obey me fanfiction #obey me scenarios #Noctis #Nocte Pythonissam #noctepythonissam #Noctis writings

[dreamdropxoxo]

i can’t wait to read about laurent and damen’s grand and opulent wedding 🥺🥺 also, idk if it was mentioned previously but who is lykaios married to?? and does she now live out of town? lololol where is she i miss her 😭😍

Hello dear anon 🥰

SOON! I promise it won’t take long anymore 🥰

Lykaios is married to Aktis, The Earl of Serres (It wasn’t mentioned yet but you’ll soon get to read it.) She went to his estate after the marriage but in the nest Season you’ll read of her again ❤️. 

Thank you so much for your message 😍.

#basket of figs #my writing #my fic #lykaios will return #I promise xD

[lykaios2]

hi moot! i hope you’re doing all right. and i hope this is a good time for a request!

i saw that you do mutant mayhem requests and wanted you to do some headcanons. let me explain! how would being in an active relationship with the turtles be like? all the turtles or just donnie or leo, you pick!

love your writing, i’m so glad to have met you! 🫶

sincerely,

sky

ugh! yk, I'm glad to have met you too ❤️

this was a fun little request, ran my brain through the wringer because for some reason I don't think I've fully figured out the mm!turtles personalities yet (not as much as rise turtles anyway)

anyways hope you enjoy! ❤️

Leo:

-During the first while of your relationship, Leo is so very awkward

-It might not seem like he loves you, but he does

-He’s just trying to learn what it’s like to date someone

-Once you two have been together for a while, he starts to get more comfortable

-He’s learned his way of properly showing his love for you

-His favorite thing to do is walk up behind you and rest his chin on your head while wrapping his arms around you

-It makes him feel like he’s letting everyone know that you’re his, and he’s yours

-He’s definitely the type to be sappy out in public, but he doesn’t care at all

Raph:

-Raph tends to overstep some boundaries in the beginning

-He’s lived with three brothers his whole life, so pretty much anything went

-He apologizes profusely when he does do it though

-He’s very fond of the sweet little intimate moments you two have

-Being loud and crazy (and sometimes angry) all the time is a little tiring

-So when he gets a quiet moment to sit with you and hold your hand or rest his head on your shoulder, it’s the best thing in the world to him

Mikey:

-Towards the beginning, Mikey treats your relationship more like a friendship

-Not in that he doesn’t do romantic things

-But if someone were to see you two out in public, they probably wouldn’t think you’re dating

-He thinks of dating as a friendship, but you like the person even more than your best friend (sorry Mondo)

-He didn’t make many friends in the sewers, so to make an extra special one like you means the world to him

-Over time he learns that you do enjoy the romantic things, so he tries to do them more

-He’s very chill about it, because he doesn’t quite understand all the things that certain gestures can mean

Donnie:

-When you and Donnie first get together, he wants to be by your side as much as he can

-He’s constantly sitting next to you, asking what you’re doing, how you’re feeling

-Basically as close as he can get without invading your personal space

-There’s been more than once where you’ve had to remind him to back up little

-To which he responds by apologizing and feeling very bad about it

-While he knows he can’t have it, he sometimes has dreams about having a relationship like in all the animes he watches

-And no matter how many times you do it, a kiss on the lips will always fluster him

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #mutant mayhem x reader #leo mutant mayhem #donnie mutant mayhem #mikey mutant mayhem #raph mutant mayhem #lykaios writes

[thestoriesthatweweave]

Chapters: 2/12 Fandom: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Erasmus/Kallias (Captive Prince), Lykaios/Orlant (Captive Prince) Characters: Damen (Captive Prince), Laurent (Captive Prince), Erasmus (Captive Prince), Lykaios (Captive Prince), Orlant (Captive Prince), Auguste (Captive Prince), Nikandros (Captive Prince), Jokaste (Captive Prince), Kastor (Captive Prince), Regent (Captive Prince) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Stardust, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, other minor pairings - Freeform, Canon-Typical Warnings, Established Relationship Summary:

Laurent stilled when he heard his voice, and turned to look at him over his shoulder, his hand holding on to the latch. He’d already opened the door part of the way, and in the sliver of moonlight that shone through, he looked like the gilded icon of a saint, cold and remote, hewn from ivory and gold.

He slipped out of the door. There was the sound of dead leaves and gravel crushed underfoot, and then nothing more. Not even the wind through the trees or the call of a nighttime bird.

“Laurent?” Damen called, going after him.

His lover was standing in the middle of the clearing, barefoot, wearing nothing but his rumpled bedclothes, head tilted up towards the sky and tension in the lines of his shoulders.

Damen gripped his sword tighter, for a moment, and then he followed the line of Laurent’s gaze, and looked up.

Above them, its tail arching through the heavens like a swathe of pale fire, a star was falling.

(A Stardust AU)

#captive prince #capri #damen/laurent #captive prince fic #my writing #stardust au #erasmus #lykaios #laurent #damen #nikandros #auguste

[sola-invinctus]

Apollon Lykaios

He who came down with the wolves From where the winters are never around Their hunched legs and dripping fangs abound Racing wolves Of cattle invaded For victors claim the prize It is his kingdom For it is my kingdom high A crown of teeth and bones I wear upon my head I am the victor, I am the wolf The vicious hand and claw, the blood that splatters the floor Take not my suggestions as offense, but simply invitation The sheepish and weak are fools Cower or conquer My rapid arrows and poison darts, I bare my teeth and blood I'm glad to smile, joy and dominance, but remember that they are the same thing I am the hunter, arrows and hounds King and conqueror He who was nurtured by wolves from birth I've grown to fur and claws, and I'll howl at the moon She is my friend Let me wrap my embrace around the lambs of the flock The lion roars, but we, the wolves, keep our hunt in silence I wear my crown in pride, as king of the forest And I'll ask you this Let me bare my teeth

"Most species bare their teeth as a threat, as a display of aggression, of leadership. It is a reminder that these clenched jaws can and will open your yielding throat. I want you to think of this next time I smile."

#devotion #Apollo #apollon lykaios #poem #writing #first #wolves #polytheism #pagan #witchywriters #wow I like it #I'm proud?? #gonna reblog this to my eshrine #I was doing it based off of his epithet

[hopelikethemoon]

Moonbeam (Ezra x Reader) [smut] {Werewolf AU}

Title: Moonbeam  Rating: Explicit  Length: 6,000 Warnings: Non-graphic description of bodily injury and smut (cunnilingus, doggy style sex, mentions of masturbation).   Reader Details: To the best of my knowledge, there are no references to Reader’s physical details, beyond being a bisexual woman. I tried my best to keep it as vague as possible.  Notes: So, this is the second lengthy Ezra fic I’ve written this month, but the only one that will see the light of day. Shout-out to @rzrcrst​ for pre-reading this for me.  Werewolves are my niche and I’m absolutely incapable of writing them without creating the lore around their existence. Ezra exudes big werewolf energy (P.S. Javier exudes big vampire energy) and since I’m not really in a fandom until I write a werewolf AU, I present you all with my very own version of space werewolves.  Depending on audience reactions, there might be more of this story to tell. 

Taglist:@princessbatears @djarin-junk @absurdthirst @hdlynn @legally-a-bastard @opheliaelysia @heather-lynn @sabinemorans @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons​ @pedrospunk​ @maybege​ @chews-erotically​ @katlikeme​ @lose-eels​ @youmeanmybrain​ @theindiealto​ @irishleesh93​

You had heard the rumors, but never once had you believed that they were true. A werewolf living on a moon? Werewolves were the stuff of fairytales. They weren’t real. 

They weren’t real. 

But someone who had come before you had clearly considered the potential. Why else had someone thought to set up a cleverly concealed steel trap?

The pain was overwhelming. Worse than anything you’d ever encountered before. You were lucky your leg hadn’t snapped in two — your heavy coveralls were your saving grace. 

You howled out in pain as you dropped to your knees, trying in vain to pry the trap off your leg. The sharp teeth had bit through the fabric of your coveralls and the dark stain forming told you everything you needed to know about your future. If you didn’t get the trap off soon, you were going to bleed out. 

And then you’d become a smorgasbord for whatever creatures lived on this moon. There had to be something terrifying in the forest that had convinced everyone to believe in werewolves. 

“Kriff.” You swore, your arms throbbing with effort as you tried yet again to free your leg from the trap. You dropped back onto your ass, before sinking down onto the soft mossy ground beneath you. 

At least the stars were out. You could see them through the bareboned trees as they swayed above you in the evening breeze. 

The pain wasn’t so bad at a certain point, most likely because of the blood loss. That would do it. That woozy, tingling sensation that had your vision blurring at the edges. 

A branch snapped nearby, sending a dull spike of nerves through you. You hadn’t made a study of the flora and fauna on the moon — but that certainly didn’t sound like a small creature. 

“Please don’t eat me.” You mumbled, tilting your head to look in the direction of the sound. The filtered moonlight from the crescent moon above barely illuminated the forest around you and your flashlight was just out of reach. 

You heard the sound of another branch snapping under foot, “Hello?” 

All men are beasts in their own right, but the man that stepped into your line of view seemed an unlikely candidate. 

“I do believe that trap was not set to ensnare one such as you,” He drawled out with a honey-sweet cadence as he moved towards you.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” You offered weakly, trying to sit up as he knelt beside you, but your vision blurred harshly and you sank back onto the ground. 

“How fortuitous you are that I take my evening stroll through this very copse of trees.” He mused, effortlessly freeing your leg from the steel trap. 

“How—“

“You have lost a considerable amount of blood, little lamb. I would be most obliged to offer shelter and succor. These woods are no place to remain alone. One can never know what creatures fresh blood may attract.”

You exhaled shakily as you stared up at the stars above you. He was right — you’d never make it back to your transport alone on your leg. “Promise not to kill me?” You cracked, tilting your head to look at him.

He flashed you a toothy grin, “I promise.” 

“What is your name?” You asked as he hoisted you into his arms, with surprising ease. 

“Ezra.” He told you, looking down at you. “And what is your name, little lamb?”

“Ezra.” You repeated softly, resting your cheek against his chest as he carried you through the forest. You gave him your own name, feeling a strange warmth wash through you when he repeated it back in that beguiling tone of his. 

“Am I right in my assumption that you are the occupant of the transport that arrived just two nights ago.” Ezra questioned quietly. 

“Depends on who is asking.” You jested lightly, “I am. Reconnaissance mission for a mining program.” 

“Ah,” His grip on you seemed to tighten. “Another greedy venture to strip the moon of its precious lunaxium?” 

“I can only assume.” You glanced up at him, “Above my pay grade.”

“You should leave within the week.” Ezra remarked, keeping his sharp gaze focused ahead of him. “It won’t be safe for you.”

“You don’t believe in that stupid story, do you?” You questioned, “Isn’t that just a tale to keep prospectors from coming here?”

“I once believed that.” Ezra muttered, before falling silent for the remainder of the journey to his humble abode. 

You had so many questions for your serendipitous savior, but he tended to your leg in relative silence and then left you to rest in his bed. 

From what you could tell, Ezra had fashioned a home for himself out of a crashed transport vessel that you could only assume had been his own at one time. Perhaps he’d been like you once upon a time, a drifter picking up odd jobs and landing in bad situations. 

Ezra was handsome. The moonlight hadn’t tricked you into thinking that — in the garish light of his bedroom, he was still just as striking. Warm eyes, long lashes, a mess of chestnut hair with a shock of blonde, and a wiry frame. 

How long had he been living on Lykaios? Had his vessel crashed on a wayward venture and he’d had no one to come looking for him? Not that anyone would come looking for you either. 

Maybe Shiva. They would’ve probably come looking for your corpse just to get what was owed to them. 

It was a damn miracle that Ezra had stumbled upon you. How had he even found you? The woods all looked the same. 

Sleep came slowly and fitfully. Despite the shot Ezra had given you, your leg was agonizingly painful if you moved at all. Fortunately, there were books within reach — well-loved, with worn pages. You wondered if they had been Ezra’s to start with, or if he’d found someone’s abandoned transport. 

He had excellent taste. 

You hadn’t seen a stack of Chaucer since you were much younger. His copy of Canterbury Tales had been opened so many times the spine wilted in your palm. 

Ezra announced himself with a short knock, before sliding open the durasteel door. “I expected you to be asleep. You had quite the evening, little lamb.”

“I tried.” You made a note of the page you were on before closing the book and sitting it aside on the bedside shelf. “I got distracted by… your collection of novels.”

He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “I see you’re getting acquainted with my old oppo Chaucer.” 

“I’ll have you know, Chaucer is my friend.” You quipped, drumming your fingers against the cover of the book. “It was nice to retrace old lines.” 

“He’s an acquired taste,” Ezra tucked his hands behind his back and stepped into the room. “Youth may outrun the old, but not outwit.”

You smiled a little, “Earn what you can since everything’s for sale.” 

Ezra chuckled, shaking his head. “And how true that is.” He gestured grandly towards your leg, “But oftentimes it comes with folly.”

“Is that how you ended up here?” You questioned, “I wanted to ask you last night, but with everything...” 

He shrugged, dragging over a trunk and perching on the edge of it. “Five years ago I stood where you stand. They were looking for a new form of clean energy — lunaxium seemed like the answer.” Ezra pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, looking away from you then. “This place is filled with hidden dangers. Once you can put weight on your leg, I encourage you to leave.” 

“You could come with me.”

Ezra’s gaze snapped towards you, “No.” 

Your brows furrowed together, “Alright.” 

“I need to change your bandages,” Ezra exhaled heavily as he rose from the trunk, he turned his back to you as he moved to retrieve the roll of gauze from a shelf. 

Your eyes widened as you spotted a twisted scar that ran up the back of his neck into his hairline and vanished down the back of his shirt. You hadn’t noticed it last night while he fussed over you. 

“Ezra, why can’t you leave?” 

Ezra sighed heavily as he sat down on the foot of the bed, drawing your leg into his lap. “It’s home.” He answered simply, unwinding the bandages. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but this—“ He gestured around him. “It’s mine.” 

“And you haven’t gone stir crazy after five years?” You questioned, grimacing as he prodded at your wound. “I was gone for two months on a solo mission once and I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to Shiva again. Even if they did rob me blind during liar’s dice.” 

“You get used to solitude.” Ezra glanced at you briefly, before turning his attention to the task at hand. He cleaned the area around the wound, before wrapping fresh bandaging around it. “Once or twice a year, someone like yourself arrives and…”

“And the mythical werewolf eats them?” You jested, sinking back against the mattress as he laid your leg back down on the bed. 

“Something like that.” He offered dryly, eyeing at you warily. “There’s a full moon in eleven days. I would advise you not to wait around to discover whether or not it is simply lore.” 

Your brows knit together and you sat up, arms curled around your waist. “You say that like there’s a chance it is true. You’ve been here for five years… What have you seen?” 

“I have things I must attend to away from here.” Ezra said abruptly, “Rest and I’ll return in a few hours to escort you back to your transport.”

Ezra did little to assuage that sinking sensation that told you that maybe just maybe there were werewolves on Lykaios. 

“Before you settled here, what did you do?” You questioned, leaning into Ezra’s side as he kept a firm hand coiled around you for support. “Your transport didn’t offer many clues, outside of your exquisite taste in literature.”

 Ezra chuckled, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. “I was a harvester. A damn good one, at that. But seasons get hard, tides turn, allegiances bend. Fell into a bit of a snare with an associate and had to dig my way out.” 

 “I think we’ve all been there before,” You shook your head. “I enjoy gambling. Nasty habit.” You admitted. “I wasn’t meant to be the one to come to Lykaois. My friend — the one I mentioned before — had been assigned to this mission. They lost it in a dicey bet with me.” 

 “Dicey?”

“What gambler plays honorably?” You countered. “I cheated.” 

“And this friend of yours was meant to come here instead?” 

You nodded, “Tried to win it back right up until the moment I took off.” Shiva had been furious that they’d lost and even more furious knowing that you hadn’t played fair. “I’ve heard the stories about Lykaois and I wanted to find out if they were true.”

“One shouldn’t go looking for the stuff of myth.” Ezra drawled out. “In my erstwhile profession, I had a certain predilection for danger. It can be damning.” 

“Look, I don’t mean to pry, but… is there a reason you can’t leave?” You stopped abruptly, causing him to stumble slightly. “My transport has life support for three. If there’s someone else you’ve got here — if that’s why you don’t want to leave.” 

You could feel Ezra’s gaze bore into your skin. 

“I’m not leaving.” You told him, when he made no attempt to answer your question. “I’ll take a day or two to rest, but I’m finishing what I’ve started.” 

“It’s not safe.” 

“Then why don’t you leave?” You pushed back. “If it’s so dangerous, why aren’t you trying to leave?”

Ezra worked his jaw slowly, before looking towards the sky and sighing heavily. “I’m not the only inhabitant on this moon. Some have been here for much longer than me and they…” He shook his head slowly. 

You curled your fingers around his forearm, turning to stare at him. “They’re what?” 

“Little lamb, be glad you were found by me and not one of them.” Ezra gritted out, holding your gaze. “Consider your luck and leave before it runs out.” 

He wasn’t going to relent. Whatever secrets Lykaois held, he wasn’t going to reveal them to you. 

“Will you at least let me give you a few of my books?” You questioned, squeezing his arm tight as you used him to support your weight. 

“Depends on what you’re offering.” Ezra retorted, “But we need to keep moving. You need to get your leg up.” 

 Ezra was entranced with your small collection of books. Like a man starved, he snatched up every book — flipping through its pages with reverence. You couldn’t imagine spending five years without getting your hands on a new book. 

You thought he would abruptly leave once he had you safely tucked into your transport — but he lingered. 

“Nothing in the world is single; all things by a law divine in one another's being mingle. Why not I with thine?” Ezra read, the words falling from his tongue with a richness that your mind had never been able to give them. 

“Shelley?” You questioned, tilting your head to try to get a look at the book he was holding. 

“Indeed.” He closed the book and held it to his chest. “Our dear friend Percy had quite a way with words. Overshadowed — and rightfully so — by his beloved wife.” 

“I haven’t been able to get my hands on Frankenstein. Not since I was maybe fourteen.” You admitted. 

Ezra snapped his fingers, “You should’ve spoken up, little lamb. Mary has kept me company on many lonely nights.”

“I will part with Percy,” You told him, hobbling towards him on your wounded leg. “But only if you are willing to part with Mary.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, still clutching the book to his chest. “I will have to consult with her.” Ezra told you with a soft smile, “I have no doubt that she is as tired of my company as anyone would be.” 

You reached out and covered his hand with yours, “I will let you reunite the couple for just one night. But you have to promise me that you’ll bring me Frankenstein.”

Ezra’s gaze lowered to where your hand was on his, a faint color rising in his cheeks. “Promise me you’ll leave once books have been exchanged.” He covered your hand with his other hand, squeezing gently. “If you stay, I won’t be able to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

“Me.” Ezra breathed out, his dark eyes setting on yours. “I will bring you lunaxium that you can take back to whomever hired you. Warn them from this place and forget it.” 

“It’s not that simple.” You found yourself leaning into him for support, “I have to complete testing and analysis. Reports. I can’t just take back a lump of lunaxium and hope for the best.”

A growl like sound rose up in the back of his throat, “Then I’ll do the reports for you. I know more than I ever cared to know of lunaxium and this godsforsaken rock. You are not to venture beyond this transport.”

You pulled your hand away from his, “I’ll do as I please, thank you.” 

Ezra gritted his teeth, “Do you have a death wish? Now isn’t the time for obstinance. Not this close to a full moon.” 

You blinked at him, “Are you…?”

His expression faltered, fingers twitching against the book before he held it out to you, “Keep it and leave tonight. Please.” 

“No.” You shook your head, “I want to know.” 

“Among these stories,” He gestured to your shelf of books, “I’m afraid it’s an unimpressive tale.”

“I’m always looking to hear new stories.” You told him, grimacing as you put too much weight down on your leg. “Shit.”

“Please sit,” Ezra urged, moving swiftly to curl his arm around your waist as he guided you towards the makeshift sofa you’d made from a weapon crate and oversized pillows. 

He sank down onto the opposite end, hands covering his face as he let out a heavy sigh. “Five years ago, I was just like you. Starry-eyed, devil-may-care.”

“Is that how you see me?”

“Yes.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “I came here looking for lunaxium like every ill-fated prospector before me. The rumors, the legend, the myth — they made for a tantalizing adventure.” His expression sobered as he stared straight ahead. “It’s painful. Muscles tear, bones shatter, skin stretches.”

Your heart clenched and your stomach roiled at the thought. 

“They say the first was a corruption. There are wolves among us, lurking beyond the trees — fearful in their own right of what looms above them. Someone played with fate and made a monster that even Shelley couldn’t have imagined. Lunaxium has no effect on humans, but it calms the beast for awhile.”

Without even thinking about it, you carefully shifted onto your good knee, letting your leg rest over the side of the sofa as you leaned towards Ezra. “This scar.” You said as you gingerly brushed your fingers over the back of his neck. 

He tensed, fingers clenching and unclenching in his lap. “I was attacked on my second night here.” He confessed, exhaling slowly. “Forgive me, little lamb. It has been a right smart spell since I have felt another’s touch.”

“You shouldn’t have to live like that, Ezra.” You whispered, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Isolating yourself… Maybe there’s a cure.”

“I can’t leave Lykaois.” He admitted, closing his eyes as he relaxed under the gentle touch of your fingers. “We’re reliant on the lunaxium and whatever this moon is cursed with. I would go mad.”

“Has anyone ever tried to leave?”

“There are stories.” Ezra turned to look at you. “I appreciate your offer. If it weren’t for what I’ve become, I would accept it without hesitation. But I would rather perish in the solitude of my transport than lose my mind somewhere among the stars.”

You trailed your fingers from his hair, along the curve of his jaw. “I could come back.”

“And put yourself in danger twice over?”

“I put myself in danger every time I venture out on a harvest with a ragtag team that might turn their weapons on me. Life is a risk, Ezra.” You held his gaze as you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip. “I can be your connection to the world you’ve lost. Name it, anything — I’ll bring it back here to you.”

“It’s dangerous.” Ezra seemed compelled by the offer. “The others… they’ve been here long enough to lose what’s left of their humanity.”

“Then protect me.” You brushed your fingers through the hair that fell against his forehead. 

“There’s so much I miss,” He admitted, his expression matching the way his voice broke as he held your gaze. “Five years… it’s a lifetime to spend alone.” He curled his fingers around your hand, rubbing his thumb against the center of your palm. “I don’t want you to risk yourself for me.” 

“I’m not afraid.” You told him, and as foolish as it was — you weren’t. 

Ezra’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips and your breath caught somewhere in the back of your throat when he started to lean towards you.  

He wasn’t the only one who had gone years without knowing a lover’s touch. You played things close to the chest, avoided anything that could ensnare you — except for him. 

For all of his warm charm, there was an underlying current of danger that had you feeling like a moth to the flame. He was a monster. A creature made from a curse you hadn’t even believed in.  

“Ezra.” You breathed out, leaning in until your nose brushed against his. 

He petted his fingers over your cheek as his breath mingled with yours, “You’re hurt.” 

“It’s just my leg.” Your lips were a hair’s breadth away from his, “I think we both need this.” 

Ezra curled his fingers around the back of your head as his lips crashed against yours. You groaned against his lips and his tongue took the opportunity to slip into your mouth, curling against yours. 

He kissed like a man possessed, desperate and all consuming. He hauled you into his lap like you weighed nothing, his hands clawing at your back, your ass, your arms — anywhere he could reach. 

He was starved for a connection like this. You had sensed it in the way he gravitated towards you, the way he lingered, the gentle touches as he mended your leg. 

You hissed softly as you shifted your weight in his lap, trying not to put pressure on your leg, but it was hard not to in that position. 

Ezra cupped your cheek, drawing your focus to his face as his other hand curled tight around your hip. “Do you trust me, little lamb?” He questioned, waiting until you nodded before he started to guide you back lengthways on the sofa. 

You scraped your fingernails over his scalp as you slid your fingers through his hair. His knee slotted in between your thighs as he draped himself over you. 

Greedy hands grabbed at the back of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal new skin to touch. He was touch starved. Every brush of your fingers against his untouched skin made him rut against your thigh. 

Ezra’s mouth worked down the column of your throat, teeth lightly scraping as his tongue darted out to taste your skin. His own hands sliding under your shirt, skimming over your ribs. 

You’d missed the feeling of large, rough hands against your skin. It had been more than a few cycles since you’d fallen into bed with a man. A year, maybe two, since you’d been with anyone at all. 

“Ezra.” You breathed out as his mouth moved over your covered breast, his tongue seeking out your nipple through the soft fabric. 

His eyes snapped to meet yours, pupils blown with arousal as he let out a ragged breath. “I can smell you.” Ezra murmured, his tongue flicking out to tease the peak of your nipple, the fabric darkened from his mouth. “You’re soaked, aren’t you little lamb?” He questioned, a hand wandering down your side, curling around your thigh. 

You felt your chest and cheeks burn with a heady mix of arousal and embarrassment. You were slick. You could feel your underwear clinging to your cunt, desire fueled solely by the man crowded onto the sofa with you. 

“In my bed,” Ezra whispered, untangling the hand you had in his hair. He brought your hand to his lips, inhaling deeply before wrapping his lips around your first two fingers. 

An unabashed moan escaped you, your hips lifting off the sofa as you ground yourself against his knee. You should’ve been ashamed — he had known that you’d tried to put yourself to sleep by burying your face in his pillow and your hand between your thighs. 

Ezra released your fingers with a wet pop, his nostrils flaring as he held your gaze. “You didn’t come, did you? Did la petite mort evade you?” 

“Yes.” You whispered, tracing your dampened fingers over his scruffy cheek. “I was so close, but it wasn’t enough.” 

He smirked at you as he pressed his knee firmly against you. “May I?”

“Please.” You nodded, sinking back against the sofa as Ezra moved down your body. Skilled fingers worked at the fastenings of your pants, peeling the heavy fabric down your thighs before tossing them aside. 

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of you, “Sit up, little lamb.” Ezra told you, sinking onto the ground in front of you. “Look at you.” He drawled as your thighs parted, your injured leg draped over his shoulder. 

You gasped quietly as he stroked his thumb over the damp spot on your underwear, barely brushing over your clit — but even that mere touch was enough to make you tremble. 

“Did you think of me?” Ezra questioned, peeling the fabric to the side, sweeping his fingers between your slick folds. 

“Maybe.” You retorted, biting down on your bottom lip as you watched him lick your arousal from his fingers. 

A quiet growl rose up the back of his throat as he leaned in between your thighs. He held your underwear to the side as he lapped at you, his tongue sweeping between your folds. 

Your fingers slid into his hair, grip tightening as he traced the tip of his tongue over your clit. 

“Do you need these?” Ezra mumbled, tugging at your underwear. 

“No. No.” You shook your head, pitching your hips towards him. 

Ezra effortlessly tore away the crotch of your underwear, his mouth descending upon your tender flesh. His tongue delved between your folds, thrusting into your slick core. He grabbed at your thigh, holding you steady as he turned his attention to your clit. 

You cried out as he wrapped his lips around that throbbing bundle of nerves. He sucked lightly at it, swirling his tongue over it as his fingers pressed into your cunt. 

He didn’t let up, his tongue working over your clit as he worked his fingers in and out of you. His fingers were deliciously thick, dragging in and out of you, brushing over that sweet spot within you that made your entire core quake. 

Ezra was good. 

His name was heavy on your tongue as you shattered, your inner walls clenching around his fingers, thighs trapping his face between your legs. 

“I need…” You panted out, breath hitching as he curled his fingers within you. “Fuck!” You shouted, nearly ripping his hair out as you felt a dam break as your vision blurred from the sudden burst of molten desire. Ezra was undeterred, his tongue sweeping up every drop of you. 

“More.” You urged, writhing beneath him. “Ezra, please.” 

“I might hurt you.” Ezra warned you, dragging his hands down your thighs as he nipped at the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “I don’t… I don’t know if I control myself.” 

“Forget about my leg,” You tugged at his hair. “And fuck me.” 

Ezra squeezed your hip and barked out, “On your knees.” 

You waited until he let go of you before you gracelessly flopping over on the sofa, knees planted firmly on the cushion as you grabbed at the metal shaft that made up the back of the sofa. 

“You smell so fucking good like this,” Ezra breathed out, hands sliding over your bare hips as he crowded close to you. “It’s been so long.” He pressed his lips to the back of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Same.” You laughed breathlessly, reaching behind you to grab at his hair. “I don’t break easy.” 

“You’ve never fucked a werewolf before.” Ezra murmured, curling his fingers loosely around your throat, keeping you pinned back against his chest as his cock slid between your oversensitive folds. “Have you?”

“Not yet.” You gritted out, curling your fingers around his forearm, thankful that he was able to keep you upright. He was strong, but the fingers wrapped around your throat were gentle. 

The head of his cock caught against your entrance and Ezra’s hips bucked forward, pressing into you. 

You moaned, completely caught up in the sensation of his thick cock filling you. The stretch was just this side of too much — especially in this angle. 

Ezra pulled back, his cock nearly slipping from you entirely before slamming back into you. His thrusts were brutal — all that strength and power that was hidden in his wiry build. He was reaching spots no one else had ever hit. 

He released his tight grip on your hip, slipping his hand between your thighs to stroke your aching clit. You clenched around him in response, making him feel even thicker as he drove into you. Again and again. 

Your nails bit into his forearm, leaving crescent moon shapes in his skin as you clung to him. You were so close, perched right on the precipice of another orgasm. 

“Come.” Ezra’s fingers curled around your jaw, his lips close to your ear. “I want to feel you come. The sweet clench of your cunt around my cock.” He mouthed a row of kisses down your neck, growling against the crook of your neck as your body obeyed him. 

He didn’t relent, even as your body pulsed around his cock. “Fuck.” He grunted out, his teeth scraping your skin. 

“Ezra.” You moaned out, your eyes falling closed as you basked in the overwhelming sensation of him fucking into you. 

His grip loosened at your jaw as he started to slide out of you, but you reached behind you, grabbing at his ass — desperately trying to keep him right there. 

Something snapped. Some frayed cord of control that he had been clinging to. 

You grabbed at the back of the sofa for support as he roughly grabbed at your hips. He bottomed out once, twice, three times before he growled out your name and came. 

Ezra curled his arm around your waist, keeping you pinned to him as he rearranged the two of you. He kept the softening length of his cock buried within you as he sank down onto the sofa with you resting back against his chest. 

“You’re very strong,” You mumbled, scratching your nails through the hair on his forearm as you looked down at the arm he had tightly curled around you. 

He huffed, a throaty chuckle escaping him as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. “One perk of this damnable curse.” He brushed his thumb over your stomach gently. 

“Is the sex a perk too?” You questioned, closing your eyes as you leaned back against him. “Because, I’m not sure I want to leave at all now.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Ezra kissed your shoulder. “I’ve kept my distance. From the others.” He sighed heavily. “You don’t want to become like me, little lamb.”

“I never said that I do.” You pointed out. 

“No, I suppose you didn’t.” He shifted beneath you, whispering a quick apology when you whimpered at the movement. 

“I’m okay.” You promised, trailing your fingers up the side of his thigh. “Overwhelmed.”

“Two days.”

“Hmm?”

“You can safely stay for two more days, but then you must leave. It gets harder to maintain this the nearer we draw to the full moon.” Ezra told you, nuzzling at the crook of your neck. 

“Two days.” You agreed solemnly. 

Ezra returned just after nightfall with a stack of research notes and his well-loved copy of Frankenstein. 

“Did you know she dedicated herself to getting her husband’s works published.” You mused, looking up from the notes on lunaxium to watch Ezra as he consumed Percy’s book of poems. 

“Hmm?”

“Mary.” You explained. “As accomplished as she was, she also worked to ensure her husband’s writing would be read.”

“Indeed.” Ezra tucked the red ribbon into the page he was reading and sat it aside. “I believe their romance blossomed on her mother’s grave, no? A rather odd pair.”

“His works are dreadfully romantic, for such a macabre couple.” You pointed out, flipping over another page of notes, copying down a comment on your own notations. 

“The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?” Ezra recited, drumming his fingers against the cover. “I had forgotten that was dear Percy.” He sank back against the wall, pushing fingers through his unruly hair. “I miss the sea.” 

“I’d bring it back in a bottle if I could.” You told him, chewing on your bottom lip. “I meant what I said before. I can come back.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, moonbeam.” He let the word slip off his tongue like it was sugar-sweet. “You will grow bored of the to-and-fro.” He pursed his lips. “Though I am much appreciative of the offer. You should go back to your friends.” 

“I have one friend in this galaxy Ezra and oftentimes I’m certain they want to ring my neck.” You shook your head. “You deserve to have a friend too.” 

“I will never be able to leave,” He reminded you. “And you can never stay.”

“There’s still an in-between.” Your brows rose hopefully. “A new moon, perhaps? When the moon is there, but not visible.”

“You’re persistent.”

“I’ve been told that before.” You smirked a little. “What would you like me to bring back when I return after the full moon?”

Ezra exhaled heavily, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I would be forever indebted to you if you might get your hands on a copy of War & Peace. Dreadfully long, but I hunger for some longevity in my literature.”

“Done.” 

He snapped his fingers, “Cheese.” 

You arched a brow. “I have cheese.”

“Real cheese?” Ezra corrected. “That wretched aero cheese is nauseating.” He blanched, watching you as you rose from your seat. 

You hobbled out of the room, into the corridor where the hyperfreeze unit was mounted in the interior wall beside the coolant system. You returned moments later with a block of Reggianito. 

“You’re in luck.” You said, sinking down onto the floor beside him. “I have a hook-up on Sector Block G7.” 

Ezra broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth, sinking back against the wall with a satisfied moan. “It will be safe for you to return in a fortnight.” 

You slapped his leg playfully, “You’ll let me return if I bring cheese?”

He grinned and continued. “If you come then, you’ll have a fortnight to stay, should you choose to.” 

“That should give me enough time to find War & Peace for you and settle my debts.” 

Ezra took another bite of cheese, before passing it back to you. “Do they still make those honeysticks?” He questioned. “Little tubes with honey collected from…” He squinted, “I can’t remember the planet.”

“I can look.” You wrapped the cheese back in the cloth, before sitting it aside. “How will you be when I return?” You questioned. 

“A little worse for wear,” Ezra shrugged a shoulder, resting his hand on your thigh. “The lunaxium helps.”

“Is it… is it like a drug?”

“I suppose.” Ezra dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “There’s this hunger,” He explained, knocking his fist against his sternum. “This clawing sensation. It gets worse closer to the full moon. I lose my mind.” He shook his head. “I tried to wean myself off two years ago. Just to feel something.”

“What happened?” You rested your hand over his. 

“It triggered the beast.” He answered with a frown. “Middle of the cycle and violent.” Ezra tilted his head to look at you. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t.” You shook your head slowly, interlacing your fingers with his. “Maybe this will be good for you. Help you keep your humanity.”

“How so?”

“The others, the ones that were already here.” Your brows furrowed together as you turned to stare at him, “Did they lose their humanity because they lost touch with other humans?”

Ezra blinked, “You, moonbeam, are a clever one.”

“I read a lot.” You smiled at him, “And you’re  in luck — I have always loved monster stories.”

#pedro pascal x reader #ezra x reader #ezra (prospect) #ezra (prospect) x reader

[the-broken-truth]

Hiiii!! It’s not really an request but I actually want to know your opinion. Overall, what’s your opinion about Alexandra Lykaios-Romanescu, my OC that interacts with Greek gods? Do you think I can improve more on her? What makes you interested about her?

And besides Artemis and Athena, that I wrote already her interactions with them, which gods would be interesting for me to write with her? (I already have Poseidon in mind for the next one)

Thats it I guess! Bye the way, I loved the Yandere Platonic Miguel O’Hara imagines you wrote!!

Broken Truth (Reads the ask): Huh. Questions, huh? Alright, I'm game to answer them:

My Personal Opinion of Alexia Lykaios-Romanescu is that she is rather well written. She's not a demi-god but she has the ability to see the Gods for what they really are; her Divine Eyes make it to where nothing is hidden from her and I really like that aspect of her. I don't think anything needs to be changed about this character, she's just fine the way she is.

As for interactions with the Gods of Greece, I think Hades & Persephone, Hera, and Demeter should have interactions with Alexia as well. I would love to read interactions between Alexia and Cerberus - it would be adorable.

Also, I'm glad to know you like my Miguel O'Hara Imagines. If you have a request for one - just send it my way. Talk to you later, my friend.

#broken answers

[mfingenius]

Hi! I love your fic about the Sex Tape of Captive Prince, could you write a continuation, please? I have many questions, like, why Govart did that to Laurent and Damen?

WThis is happening at the same time as the other part, but from Laurent’s pov...

::::::::

Laurent leaves school early. He can’t stand the way people keep looking at him, how Damen keeps trying to talk to him. He can’t do it, he can’t. Damen is the first person he’s ever dated, the only person he’s ever fallen in love with. He doesn’t want to face the fact that Damen filmed him and sent it out.

“Can I come in?” Auguste must’ve left early, too, because he shouldn’t have been home yet.

Laurent nods uselessly. He’s sitting on his bed, hands on his lap, staring at nothing. He hasn’t moved in a really long time.

“You okay?” Auguste asks.

Laurent doesn’t respond.

“I love you,” Auguste offers, and Laurent’s suddenly crying, sobbing, heartbroken and anxious and still a helpless child. Auguste wraps him in a hug, and Laurent’s safe, even if he’s not okay, because Auguste will love him through anything, and that’s as much as Laurent needs. “It’s alright. I love you so much Laurent. It’s going to be alright.

*

Despite thinking that he can never show his face again, he does. He shows up at school the next day, and then the next one after that. He’s dying of shame, cheeks red and nearly always on the verge of crying, but at least he doesn’t have to talk to Damen.

He avoids him at any and all costs, even stops going to Auguste’s class just so he doesn’t have to face him again. The fact that everyone’s seen - and heard - him having sex is constantly on his mind, and it makes him feel... used. Dirty, even though having sex is not something to be ashamed of.

“He didn’t do it,” Nicaise tells him, when he catches Laurent staring at Damen again. It’s been three days since their sex tape first got sent out, and everyone’s still talking about it.

Laurent hasn’t talked to anyone, hasn’t said a word. He’d cried for an embarrassingly long time in Auguste’s arms, and then in Nicaise’s. For all him and Nicaise insult each other, they’re friends, real friends, and Nicaise had let him cry on his shoulder for as long as he needed. He’d punched one of the football players in the face after he’d made a comment about how good Laurent is at ‘taking it’.

“What?” Laurent shifts his eyes to him.

“He didn’t do it.” Nicaise says. “The giant animal. He’s too pathetically in love with you to do anything of the sort.”

Laurent’s heart clenches in hope. He wants, more than anything else, for Damen to not have done this, because that way he’s at least not been betrayed by the person he loves.

“It was his bedroom,” He says finally, stabbing the salad on his plate with a fork. He’s not eating it, but he can at least take out some feeling on it. “Who else could’ve filmed it?”

“Frat houses aren’t exactly the epitome of privacy.” Nicaise sounds skeptic. “And it’s not like Damianos is a prude, alright. He has other sex tapes. He asked all of his previous partners, or they asked him. He would’ve talked to you.”

And really, Laurent doesn’t want to think about Damen’s exes. He knows he has his long - long - past, and he doesn’t mind; it used to make him a little self-conscious, his lack of experience, but Damen has never made him felt bad about it.

“How would you even know that?” He asks. He didn’t know that; he hasn’t asked, either, and it’s not like he and Damen talk about his past experience unless Laurent explicitly brings it up, but he still feels the spark of jealousy.

“I know things,” Nicaise shrugs. When Laurent gives him a look he rolls his eyes. “Lykaios wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

Laurent hums lightly, shoulders dropping. Nicaise rolls his eyes again. 

“Laurent,” he says, in a tone of voice that makes Laurent look at him. “He didn’t do it. Do you want to keep being miserable thinking he did, or do you want to find out who actually did?”

Laurent looks back at Damen again - Damen, who’s trying desperately to catch his eyes, who looks so fucking sad anytime Laurent finds another way to slip away again, Damen who holds Laurent close and whispers sweet things in his ear when he has an anxiety attack that seem to somehow calm him right down. 

“I want to find out who did it,” He says finally.

“Alright,” Nicaise shrugs. “Let’s go.”

*

They talk to a lot of people. Laurent and Nicaise aren’t widely liked, but they’ve enough people willing to tell them things not to need to be liked. Laurent knows most of everything about everyone, and he always, always has the last word. It’ll be no different now.

Most of the information is useless. They get bits and pieces, of people who wanted to get back at Laurent - unsurprising - some who don’t like Damen - very, very few - and some who are just shitty enough to do it without reason.

Laurent’s about to give up when someone mentions it.

“Your brother,” Pallas tells him. He feels guilty for being the one to play the video, even if it wasn’t on purpose, so he’s been ranting for some time now. “Something happened, Friday before the party. I don’t know what, but when Govart got to practice that day he was furious. Kept talking about how he was going to get back at Auguste, how he had no right-”

“What?” Laurent asks sharply. No one had mentioned that. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Pallas says, apologetic. “But he was furious. Then this happened, and yesterday during practice he was whistling.”

It’s not evidence, not really, but it’s enough for Laurent.

“Thank you, Pallas.” He says, and he walks away.

*

Auguste is a good teacher. A good, good professor, Laurent knows. He finds out things about his students - a lot of things, because everyone trusts him to tell him anything - and he never uses it against them. Laurent knows that - in more than one occasion - he’s found students with drugs, or stealing, or doing a multitude of other things they’re not supposed to, and he never reports it like he’s supposed to. He helps them. 

Auguste must’ve found something on Govart. And if he confiscated it, if he didn’t report it, it must be at their house.

Laurent is not one to enjoy to break into Auguste’s privacy - he loves his brother more than anyone, and trusts him to tell him anything he needs to know - but he doesn’t want to tell Auguste what he’s looking for. It’ll make Auguste feel guilty.

He searches his brother’s bedroom, doesn’t take long to find what is undeniably Govart’s.

Laurent stares.

*

“They’re not mine,” Govart snarls. “I didn’t - someone put them there-”

“Sir, cooperate and this will go easier on all of us.” The cop that is handcuffing Govart’s hands behind his back is frowning. Laurent had heard, of course, that if you wanted a little extra kick, you could get it from Govart. The amount of drugs he’d found in the house - and then the cops had found in his locker after an ‘anonymous tip’ - were something unreal.

“Get off me,” Govart snarls again, struggles against the handcuffs, but the only thing he’s doing is attracting more attention to his arrest. They’re in the middle of the hall, and Laurent is staring openly, smirk small on his lips.

“Sir, calm down.” The cop tells him. “Or I’ll have to use force.”

Govart curses and argues the entire time, but he lets himself be led away from his locker. Laurent watches with great satisfaction.

*

“Have you gotten rid of the camera?” Laurent asks.

Damen stands from the bed so fast it must be dizzying. The moment his eyes land on Laurent, his entire demeanor changes, face hopeful and open. “Laurent.”

Laurent is trying to pretend he’s fine, but he has his arms wrapped around himself, and being in Damen’s room - knowing Govart was able to put a camera there and not get caught - makes him feel vaguely sick.

“I didn’t do it,” Damen says immediately, with an undertone of urgency that makes Laurent’s heart clench. “I never would’ve - I don’t - I never would’ve done anything like that to anyone, least of all you, I love you so much sweetheart-”

“I know,” Laurent says quietly. “I love you, too.”

And he does, more than anything or anyone else. This time spent apart has only shown him how much he wants to be with Damen, by his side, them, together, against anything or anyone else, it doesn’t matter. It’s them.

“You know?” Damen asks.

Laurent nods and takes a step closer cautiously, uncertainly. He doesn’t know if Damen will be angry at him for not speaking to him, for doing this on his own. Part of him tells him he’s being unreasonable - Damen’s rarely angry with him - but another part tells him he’s ridiculous to have suspected of him in the first place.

“I - thought it was you, at first,” He admits lightly, mouth twisting, guilt and regret in his tone. “I thought that maybe - that that was the whole point of it.” The terrifying thought that Damen had only been dating him as a conquest, only to fuck him, show his friends, and then leave him, had been eating away at him. “Nicaise told me to pull my head out of my ass and see how stupidly in love you with me you were.”

“So I - I watched it again.” It had been sickening, to watch it again. Something he loved, something he enjoyed, something so private being exposed to the rest of the school and twisted into something that it wasn’t. “I recognized - the clothes I was wearing, at the beginning. It was from Friday’s party, so it could’ve been literally anyone who put the camera in your room. “Nicaise helped me narrow it down.”

“You know who it was, then?” Damen asks, fists already clenching. Every muscle in his body is clenched tight, and, in any other context, Laurent would’ve been pushing him into bed now.

“Govart,”

“Fuck,” Damen breathes. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“No need,” Laurent says. “I got him expelled.”

It had been quick work, after he’d been arrested. Gods forbid their university was involved in drug dealing.

“You did?” Damen sounds surprised and unsurprised both at the same time. “Fuck, you’re amazing. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too.” Laurent smiles lightly. He shifts uncertainly, and then speaks again. “Can you - hold me? I just - I want to-”

He doesn’t know how to put it into words.

“Of course,” Damen says.  “Here?”

And they could go to Laurent’s apartment, but Laurent doesn’t want to be scared of Damen’s room forever. He nods lightly, and so Damen sits on the bed with his legs spread, letting Laurent settle between them. Laurent curls into his chest, and Damen wraps one hand around his waist posessively and the other one around knees, so that he’s wrapped around him. Laurent exhales, relieved.

----------------------------------------

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#lamen #fanfic #mine

[hellguarded-a]

hellhounds are creatures of fear!  by default, they serve hades as retrieves of lost souls and even living beings that need it  ( for better or for worse ).  they’re generally looked after by the  lykaios  ( vaguely translated as  wolfmen,  they’re hades’ houndmasters on which i’ll write a separate post later )  but rogue / independent ones exist.  once their training is done they can be hired as other demons for various purposes, but many use them to collect the souls from their contracts so that they don’t have to do the dirty work themselves.

they’re inherently neither good or evil, it depends on how they’re raised.  if they’re benevolent, they can appear before lost travellers and guide them to safety.  if they’re malevolent, they’ll do just the opposite.  but they’ve also been seen to just  appear  without doing nothing;  but the more supersitious folks associate those sightings with whatever tragedy followed afterwards.  making them some sorts of bad omens.

no matter what, many witnesses claim to have felt incredible  fear  when encountering a hellhound, and they’re known to be able to kill with just that ---  instilling fear in someone.  many also say that ever since meeting a hellhound, they keep seeing them in the shadows, in the corner of their eye, stalking them.

#≥ file 073: CERBERUS // page 3: additional notes #( i lov when my son is scary n imposing when ppl dont know him but he'd literally just roll over for belly rubs ) #( he's the oldest member of the gonchiye after the horsemen so he's got a lot of respect in that regard and at least early on ) #( many ppl avoided him ) #( then they got to know him n all ) #( n then he got collared n called a failure a bunch so then he lost all that respect again ) #( lmao )

[definitely-not-a-student]

Travel Log Stop 1: Theater at Epidaurus.

My name is Markos Lykaios, and as I write this, it is the year 198 B.C. I am preparing to depart on an arduous journey to sell my wares throughout the Mediterranean. Given that it will be some time before I return to my home in Athens, I promised to write of my travels for my wife and child. As I had a few spare hours before the evening, I determined to enjoy one last play.

Luckily, tonight featured the play “Hercules” by Euripides. Although I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by a plethora of theaters, I chose to attend my favorite one: The Theater at Epidaurus on the Sanctuary of Asklepios. Much as I enjoy the works of Euripides, the theater is just as worthy of attention itself. It is dedicated to Apollo and his son Asklepios, a god of medicine (UNESCO Centre, 2020). The massive sanctuary contains temples to Artemis and Asklepios, a variety of recreational and medicinal facilities, and (most tantalizingly) the theater. Because they had not performed “Hercules” for some time, nearly every seat was filled. The sounds of twelve to fourteen thousand men and women filled the air (Epidaurus, 2015)

This theater is one of the greatest products of our brilliant architects. If you have never had the good fortune of visiting it, the Theater at Epidaurus is a massive, outdoor theater built in a circular shape (Encyclopedia Britannica ImageQuest, 2016).

Its design endows it with exemplary acoustics. Coupled with the other offerings of the sanctuary, it drew massive crowds of men and women alike (Katz, 1998). All of this complimented the play itself.

“Hercules,” although more than two centuries older than myself, remains the masterpiece it was written as. The play’s three male actors performed every role as though it were real, adding to the wonderful illusion (Woodruff, 2016). Meanwhile, the chorus commented on the play and explained it, all without ever stealing the scene. The players’ masks clearly displayed their emotion while the cylindrical mouths amplified their voices for the furthest parts of the audience to hear (Encyclopedia Britannica ImageQuest, 2016).

 After its completion, I reflected on the play. Whether it is religious, political, or comedic, there is always something informative to be found. That is why I, along with so many others, flock to see performances. When my son is older, I will take him along as well. However, as dusk approached, I returned to spend one last night at home before heading to the port in the morning.

#history #kincheloe

[shackledspectre]

Eight people i’d like to get to know better.

ONE   /   ( ALIAS / NAME ) : My online handle has been Lyka (short for Lykaios) for like...ever. But I’ll also answer to Ace

TWO   /   ( BIRTHDAY ) : December 19th, 1991

THREE   /   ( ZODIAC SIGN ) : Sagittarius, Sheep/Goat

FOUR   /   ( HEIGHT ) : 5′4″

FIVE   /   ( HOBBIES ) : Oh jeez uh...drawing, writing, watching doll customization videos, learning about theme park history (and never going to them), reading...does going to burlesque shows with friends count as a hobby?

SIX   /   ( FAVOURITE COLOUR ) : love TEAL, though any shade of blue is great. I’m also a fan of red, green, and purple.

SEVEN   /   ( FAVOURITE BOOKS ) : I don’t think I have a favorite book. I like reading and all, but that actually makes it hard to pick just one favorite book.

EIGHT   /   ( LAST SONG LISTENED TO ) : Mr. Blue -  Catherine Feeny

NINE   /   ( LAST FILM OR SHOW WATCHED ) : A Patch of Fog, It’s on Netflix and features Stephen Graham so I watched it out of curiosity and now...I love Robert, you terrible gremlin.

TEN   /   ( INSPIRATION FOR MUSE ) : I’ve always loved A Christmas Carol, but this new version really endeared me to the character of Jacob Marley, though he was already my favorite character. And of course, this version aired in the US on my birthday, so I feel a connection lol

ELEVEN   /   ( STORY BEHIND URL ) : I feel like that doesn’t need to much explanation. Jacob is covered in chains, and I love alliteration so like...there you go

Tagged By: @complctely​ Tagging: Honestly, I want to get to know all of you

#( Rag and Bone Rambling ) Out of Character #I don't think I ever really introduced myself. Gosh...