#relations. ( “LYKAIOS” );

[kuroneko1815]

Theodore: The Lykaios family are mere Counts!

Marquis Ellen: Shhh! (Covers his grandson’s mouth) They’re crazy and insanely monstrously strong. Especially the Countess! And that doesn’t even begin to speak of the army at their back!

Marquis Ellen who was from the same generation as the Count and Countess remembered all that had happened between them with great difficulty. The trauma in him as deep as Duke Eckart’s was when it came to the late Empress.

It was during a family meal that the Marquis had discovered that the Crown Prince’s Aide was related to Lady Iris Lykaios born as the youngest Lady Cameron.

He suddenly has a memory float to the top of his mind of how he’d woken up to a bloody pile of severed heads, that he recognized to be the assassins he’d sent after Cedric and Callisto, neatly arranged on his bed.

Now that he thought more of it, he could now easily believe that it was Cedric Porter who’d done that and not the ‘barbarian’ Crown Prince who seemed genuinely confused when he’d confronted him.

-

-

Cedric: I’m not bloodthirsty, I’m really not. (A bloody mountain of corpses behind him that he has buried and sodded so that it would turn in to a proper mound.)

Callisto who stood beside him nodded approvingly at his handiwork, even though there was some mild disappointment there: You’re really not. This is so tame and gentle.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What PJO cabins do you think the HP kids other than Harry would be in? I feel like maybe it'd be either Apollo or Athena for Ron, and perhaps Ares (or Athena, if Ron's a child of Apollo) for Hermione?

(I accidentally sent an unfinished ask last time)

Well, I'm not going to give as deep of an analysis, but sure, this is fun.

Harry was mentioned here, where I settled on Apollo cabin, but a more distant descendant of Hades.

The Weasely twins have to be related to Hermes in this AU; there is no other option. And because Hermes is a god of way too many things, I think it works well with the other Weasley children as well:

Bill - Hermes is the god of travelers & wit

Charlie - Hermes is the god of shepherds. What is a dragon tamer if not a dragon shepherd?

Percy - well, Hermes is also the god of language & oratory, which Percy is involved with as an undersecretary in the Ministry.

Ron - Well, I already mentioned Hermes is the god of wit & cunning, which I think applies to Ron.

Ginny - Herems also happens to be the god of athletes.

Basically, I want all the Weasleys to stay siblings, also on the godly side of things. Though, like with Harry, I don't really want to remove either of their parents, so let's make Hermes Arthur's dad, or something.

Hermione - Athena is a classic choice for her, and I think it fits for her wit and learning side + the dash of ruthlessness that Athena is associated with as a war goddess.

Fleur - has to be a daughter/granddaughter of Aphrodite with the veela magic.

Draco - I'm going, Dionysus, because Draco is a theater kid if I've ever seen one. I think if Hogwarts had a drama class, it would've improved his life dramatically. Also, he gives me the vibe. (But I like his relationship with Lucius... we'll need to find a solution for that)

Severus - I considered Athena, for craftsmanship, wit, and warfare aspects.

Sirius - I'm kinda leaning toward Ares. Violence & bloodshed, these things that are the epitome of what we see of the Black family in canon. His animagus form is linked to the Grim, a harbinger of death. I just like this for him. Plus, it'll be fun, because in this AU, I want Bellatrix to also be a daughter of Ares, so it'll be fun. (Also, Ares is associated with dogs).

Lupin - Like, Zeus is known for his association with wolves; Zeus Lykaios is one of his epithets. "Lykaios", meaning wolf, and the origin of the word "Lycanthropy". That being said, Apollo is also associated with wolves and is a better fit for Remus, probably. (Though the Zeus Lykaios is fun).

Tom Riddle - He was a tough one for me. I think the funest way to go for this AU, is Apollo. a) for the connection to Harry. b) Beauty, plague & knowledge being among Apollo's domains. c) Association with snakes. d) Prophecy. Though I can see Posidon perhaps, mostly for vibes (earthquakes & destruction) rather than a deep analysis.

Albus - I kinda wanna go Zeus. Like, it fits his behaviour, his arrogance, and he is skilled. Idk, it makes sense to me.

Again, this is something quick and fun and not to be taken too seriously.

[the-good-spartan]

A Few Notes on 427 BCE: The transfer of the Kingship at Sparta.

In the summer of 427 BCE, the Spartan army marched on Attika to ravage the land for the fourth time in the Arkhidamian War, but unlike the previous three occasions, they were led by an Agiad war-leader, Kleomenes. [Thuc 3.26]

Arkhidamos II, sole Eurypontid king since somewhere around 469 BCE, was probably seriously ill at this time – extrapolated from the fact that he was succeeded by his son Agis II, and the following year, the summer of 426, Agis was the War-King.

One king – the senior king - was always the war-king, so the fact that Agis didn’t lead that army in 427 means that Arkhidamos must still have been alive but couldn’t lead the army as he’d done for many years beforehand.

Kleomenes was the exiled [Agiad] king Pleistoanax’s brother, and was serving as regent to Pleistoanax’s son, Pausanias, who was underage – perhaps meaning below the age of twenty, when an ordinary Spartan could gain full citizenship if he’d met the stringent criteria related to his education, wealth and socialisation; though the eldest sons of Spartan king’s didn’t attend the agoge, so they may have had a different age requirement.

Please note that this is a guess based on almost pure academic speculation. There is a deep lack of evidence around all this topic.

Pleistoanax had been in exile for a long time. In 446, during the Second Sacred War [a series of battles between Athens, Sparta and allies on both sides, for control of Delphi] Pleistoanax invaded Attika, going as far as Eleusis and Thria, before turning back. He was believed to have been bribed into retreating. [Thuc. 2.21]

Cartledge, quoting Gomme, suggests that, ‘The real bribe, however, may not have been monetary, but “the offer to surrender, or discuss the surrender of, Megara, Troizen and Achaia,”’ [S&L:ARH pg. 197] places taken during the Sacred Wars.

In the winter of 446-445, Athens and Sparta agreed the 30 Years Peace which lasted until the outbreak of the Arkhidamian War. Pleistoanax was exiled before this, probably in 445 BCE. [Thuc. 2.21.]

For context, in 418 BCE, Agis II did the same thing, accepting a four-month treaty with Argos without consulting the ephors and gerousia then returned ‘the finest army ever seen in Hellas’ to Sparta. The authorities at home were livid - they threatened to burn down Agis’ house and fine him 100,000 drachmae. He managed to avoid this outcome, but the next time he marched out with the army, he had to take ten commissioners with him, and if he wanted to withdraw his troops from enemy territory, the ten had to agree. This was completely unprecedented. The War-King had always been the absolute authority when on campaign. [Thuc 5.63]. But, all things considered, he was lucky that his victory at the Battle of Mantinea let him off the hook.

Thucydides tells us that Pleistoanax took refuge on Mount Lykaion (in Arkadia), sacred to Zeus Lykaios, where he lived in a house that was built half inside the sanctuary, ‘because he was afraid of the Spartans.’ [Thuc 5.16]

We don’t know when Pleistoanax returned to Sparta with any precision, but it was almost certainly later in 427 BCE, and I’d personally put money on it being only possible after Arkhidamos’ death. It’s said that ‘they brought him back with the same dances and sacrifices as when they inaugurated the kings at the original foundation of Sparta.’ [Thuc 5.17]

The fact that he wasn’t made War-King, despite his seniority both in personal age and the seniority of the Agiad line, suggests that he was considered a ‘new king’, rather than a restored one; but perhaps it was the cause of his exile which prevented him being made the War-King as was his ancestral right.

His return was apparently difficult for him. The Spartans, understandably, didn’t trust him at all.

When speaking of the push for the Peace [of Nikias, in 421], Thucydides tells us that Pleistoanax was very eager for the peace to be agreed, because his opponents were causing his ‘embarrassment.’ Every time Sparta had a set-back in the war, they put it down to his ‘illegal’ return, accusing him and another brother, Aristokles, of bribing the Pythia to repeatedly tell Spartan delegates seeking guidance from Apollo that ‘they must bring back the seed of the demigod son of Zeus from a foreign land to their own, or they would always plough with a silver ploughshare.’ [Thuc 5.16-7] The son of Zeus is Herakles, from whom both the Spartan royal houses traced their lineage.

Quoted Sources:

Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War, translated by Martin Hammond.

Paul Cartledge, Sparta and Lakonia: A regional history 1300 - 362 BCE.

[teasandcardigans]

talking to the moon

characters: juno lykaios (oc)

cw: trauma, ptsd, nightmares, bad family relations

challenged myself to write a no-dialogue piece to kick off 2025! got to explore one of my favorite ocs and her backstory, hope it’s not too sad!

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

Juno felt cold stone under their palms. It was cold in a way that wasn’t natural, as if all the fear and dread in this place had seeped into the rock to make the atmosphere as chilling as possible. How did she get out here? It didn’t matter. It was a matter of time before someone noticed and tracked her down.

They stood and stumbled, clinging to the freezing wall to stay upright. The room warped, everything seeming unstable as Juno tried to get down the corridor. Where did it end? Where was the door? Moonlight bled in through the windows, the bars a cruel tease at the world outside. To the woods Juno could disappear into.

Someone screamed. Deep, gut-wrenching scream that had Juno whipping around to find the source. They were in pain. They needed help. Visions of being cut open and sewn back together flashed in their mind. Juno tried to yell out, but nothing came. Clutching at their throat, they felt sutures up their neck. Again and again, they tried to scream and nothing came. Panic started to swell in Juno’s chest, clouding their mind. They had to leave. Someone was going to find them.

Pitching through the hall, Juno heard the scream again, but louder. They were going the wrong way- or the right way? If Juno saved them, she would be caught, too. She needed out. Everything was spinning. Sweat dripped down her skin. Everything was wrong.

Juno pressed themselves against the wall, praying for balance. Then a vice grip came around their wrist and they were jerking away, seeing a cell behind them. Inside was a gaunt, almost undead looking thing. It was almost human, a hoarse moan coming from them as they reached through the cell bars for her again. Juno went for the opposite wall, but felt cold iron slam into their back as the stone dissolved into ash.

Spinning around, Juno saw they were in the cell block. Gnarled, wrinkled hands reached out into the corridor. Reaching for her. Each face was more dead than the last. She had to get out of this place.

She searched for an exit, running to the end of the hall as the floor slid beneath her feet. Jagged nails caught her shirt and shredded it. From the other side, the smell of rotting flesh closed around her ankle. Juno jerked away from them both, but it all kept coming. The walls were closing in on themselves. She was going to be crushed and whatever was still intact would be ripped apart by these dying imprisoned things.

Juno couldn’t breathe as the stone walls got closer to her, pressing into her cheek and back and every part of her as the creatures clawed at her skin too. She was going to die like this.

She was going to die, gruesome and alone and no one was ever going to know.

Juno gasped in air and suddenly everything was gone. It was almost like floating until their eyes ripped open, seeing the darkness of their apartment around them. Were the walls closing in on them here, too? Panic gripped them. Juno ripped the blanket off them, stumbling off the couch and towards the only light in this shoebox.

It took a few tries before they tore the window open, crawling out onto the fire escape and heaving gasps that puffed out breaths of smoke. Metal bit into their knees and palms as they dragged themselves to the railing, trying to tell herself it was a nightmare. It wasn’t real. That place was gone, obliterated by daemons.

Pulling themselves up to the railing, Juno hung her head over it, staring at the sidewalk below. Part of her wanted to throw herself onto it. Make this miserable existence of “department recovery” end. But she didn’t. She let herself catch her breath, watching drops of sweat drip off her skin into the night air. Juno didn’t cry. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t worth crying over.

When their heart had slowed, they sunk down to the landing of the fire escape. The night air was cold on their skin. Vampires couldn’t get cold, not like humans did, but the breeze against her exposed arms was enough to chill the sweat lingering there. Enough to make Juno crave the very human desire for warmth in nothing more than a tank top and thin pajama pants.

She was a wreck. As much as no one would be able to see it, as hard as they could try to hide it, the feeling of being trapped only continued to plague her. The walls of her dingy department-provided apartment would close in around them, trapping Juno is a dark, impenetrable cell once again. The city wasn’t big enough for her to feel free in. Not while the department was still keeping her on close watch. Them and every other prisoner who wanted to tear that bitch limb from limb.

She hadn’t bothered to learn their names. Who any of them were, what their lives were like before that hellhole. Korax probably had known them all. Probably had carried them back to their cells like he had done for her, told them that it wasn’t that bad if they could only see it his way. His way was years of imprisonment warped to be something domestic and marital when all it ever had been was manipulation to make him a perfect henchman. The way he stood by her, through it all, through the fact that he watched her torture and experiment on people, living beings just like him, and still he defended her. Protected her even until the end. Korax would have followed her into a burning building if given the chance, just to be crushed by the rubble and burned in the flames of her destruction.

Juno looked out across the city, burying the pit of nausea rising in their throat. Were the other captives dumped here as well? Had the department scattered them across the country or deposited them back to their families, broken and unsalvageable as she was? Did they have families to return to at all? Had their families searched for them, devastated by loss of their loved one?

They knew their family hadn’t searched for them. It had been almost thirty years with almost no contact. Juno had tried after the dust of turning had settled. Her parents hadn’t wanted them around. She was dangerous. Uncontrolled. They hadn’t seen their siblings in over two decades, as much as she had wished to force herself back into their lives. It had been better that way.

Was that how Aksana picked her? Had the psychopath known there would be no one coming? No one to report them missing when she provoked them in the alley that night? A lifetime had passed since then. She had been exposed to a world they never knew existed, evil that festered in darkness Juno had become so accustomed to. No one could’ve found her even if they had tried.

It was almost funny. While they never would’ve been able to save her had they known or cared at all, but her family had kept her sane. Kept her from giving in to the angrier part of herself. Kept them from killing Aksana when they had the chance. They were already a murderer, willing in it or not. Another body didn’t need to plague their conscious. If only her family could see her now, right? A well-adjusted, perfectly normal member of empowered society, with an apartment and city-skyline view to prove it. Yeah, right.

As Juno stared at the stars, she wondered if any of her siblings were looking at them, wherever they were, too. Did they think of them as often as they thought of them? Juno wondered what their lives turned out to be. If Steph was looking at the stars too, if she had built the software she had always wanted to. When she admired the night sky, did she remember the drives from school, screaming music in Juno’s rusted almost-dead car?

If Lucas had been able to manage both university and empowered studies, if he had married his girlfriend. Would they have had children? He would be a great dad. Would he show them the stars? Hold them and point out the constellations that Juno had shown him and their younger counterparts once, laid out in the grass of their backyard. When little Ilya had clung onto her, still so timid. Had she grown into herself now? Juno wondered if she had inherited their father’s magic just like she had taken all his other traits.

All of her siblings, the ones she had raised like her own children, were grown, with families and lives of their own. When they took in the night sky, did they remember her? The one that would’ve given everything for them? Did they remember Juno? Ilya and Ander were both so young when Juno’s world had been uprooted. Their parents probably told them she ran away. In ways, Juno had. It was better than them knowing what had really happened.

A selfish part of her heart wanted them to talk about her, for Theo to tell stories of them like he did all his tall tales, recounting the moments shared, the times Juno had taken them all on adventures of their own in a car that was hellbent to kill them all, and prayed she wasn’t some taboo subject of her family. That they remembered her fondly.

She wanted to find them again, bring her family together, show them that she wasn’t that vampire her father saw in the containment cell, half-blind in hunger and desperation. Tears stung her eyes at the thought that that was the last version of her he saw. They remembered calling after him as he walked away. What did he tell their mother? Despite everything Juno had done to keep her humanity intact, would she remember her eldest as some crazed, beastly thing?

A sob choked Juno, catching in her throat and making her sputter. The thought of her family remembering her as a monster, after years of her life showing the gentlest parts of her soul, softening herself to be their safest place to land, would they only know her as a murderer? Was her father haunted by the way she screamed for him to come back, to not leave her behind, like the way she was forced to remember the horror in his gaze when he took in her blood-stained clothes or the fangs that wouldn’t retract?

Raking a hand through their hair, Juno curled their legs into her chest and let herself cry. How did she become this? A prisoner in every sense, damned to be alone. They didn’t ask to be turned in the back of that bar, they didn’t know bloodlust had set in until they woke up shaking and ravenous in a containment cell. They didn’t raise her hand to be Aksana’s next pet project and be hauled off to Europe, and they didn’t ask William Solaire to take pity on them and offer them a clan. Fuck having a clan. She didn’t want a replacement family for the one they’d lost. They wanted theirs back. They had no one to turn to, no one to ease away the fear and isolation of her life.

Juno laid against the railing and cried harder than she had in years. The emotions were jagged and raw, tearing up their insides as they clawed their way out of her. They felt weak, so small and helpless like little Ilya clinging to them when she was just barely a person. Why was no one there for her? What did Juno do to deserve all this?

Caught up in her emotions, they didn’t hear the disturbance until a lower level window was creaking open. Juno sucked in the sob she was about to let out, their breath ragged. There were a few steps, the rhythmic flick of a lighter, and the sharp inhale of breath before they got the courage to peek over the edge like a child.

They must have heard her as their head tilted up to look above, but Juno didn’t want to be seen like this. Not looking so frail and broken. Instinct took over and they were inside again before she even saw the stranger’s eyes, the window slammed shut so hard it echoed.

She curled into the windowsill, staring at the moon high in the sky. Her only confidant, the only one with her through it all. The moon watched their turning, their rampage, the fight and the torture. It observed silently as she grieved and raged about the downfall of her own existence. The moon had never helped her. If anything, it was a bad omen on her life, but Juno still felt comfort in it’s light.

They let their tear-swollen eyes fall closed, arms wrapped tightly around themselves. If Juno fell asleep here and the sunlight burned them alive tomorrow, so be it. She left herself in the moon’s hands.

[lykaios2]

welcome to the blog!

feel free to look around!

here's my introduction! ♡learn a bit more about me if you'd like♡

here for the writing? you can find all my works on my ☆masterlist☆ (please take a second to look through here, I do have other works that I have made in the past! it's a little extensive, so you might find something you like)

want to make a request? make sure it doesn't get rejected by ♤reading the rules first♤ (requests are closed as of right now. sorry!)

~~~~~~~

general tags:

#lykaios thinks - random thoughts, not particularly related to anything

#lykaios writes - my writing works, although I quite often forget to tag my stuff with this one so I suggest looking at my masterlist since I update that more

#lykaios draws - I do art sometimes! it should be under this tag, although at the moment there isn't much since this is a more writing focused blog. the drawing is usually personal projects

[apricusnights]

Olympus Tournament Story: Fuel to the fire.

Sunil: "Has anyone seen Puck?"

Cerise: "Not recently. Last I heard he was going off to grab some food and probably flirt with everyone along the way."

Night: "Yeah sounds about right. Still, with those two weirdos from Fae causing him to panic a few times I do sort of wonder if something more is going on."

Hugo: "Weirdos making another weirdo panic isn't that strange. I can't give a shit right now, I gotta focus on the semis and the finals."

Night: "Assuming you get to the finals."

Hugo: "Least I bothered to fight, you're the only one here who wussed out."

Cerise: "Alright alright shut up the both of you. Sunil, Night, and I can go look for Puck."

Sunil: "No, Hugo is right about preparing for the semis and finals. You're in them as well. I'll go with Night, you two can keep training. Come on."

Night: "Where do we even start? This ship is huge.."

Night and Sunil split up to try and track down where Puck may have gone. Unfortunately as Night thought, the size of the ship made trying to find one person just about as easy as finding a needle in a haystack. To make matters worse, Puck wasn't answering his aShine.

The two decide to shift focus and attempt to locate the competitors from Fae. Something that does seem slightly easier but upon reaching where they should be, Sunil and Night discover the door open and no one inside. There are however small signs of a struggle which further intensifies the need to find their missing friend.

Night: "You think they kidnapped him?"

Sunil: "Pretty sure they've been trying to do that this whole time. He's from Fae, no idea why those two would go out of their way for him though."

Night: "Didn't you say he made some kind of deal with Hades? Maybe it has something to do with that."

Sunil: "He did but I can't remember what he told me about it. It's like the more time goes by the easier it is to forget any details regarding that."

Night: "Well that just means Hades is probably still alive somewhere, not really a comforting thought."

Sunil: "No but I don't think he's part of whatever this is. Check it out.."

Night: "No bags anywhere, closets are empty. You think they called for transportation?"

Sunil: "Probably. The Fae leaders were never here so the fighters couldn't have left like that. They'd have to have called someone.."

Night: "There are a billion helipads on this ship and a billion escape crafts. How do we find em before they leave?"

Evander: "Excuse my interruption but I overheard your predicament. I do believe I can be of assistance. Allow me to introduce myself, Evander Lykaios. Pleasure.

Night: "I know you, you're one of the fighters and you're on the Crepusculum Hecaball team. Why would you want to help?"

Sunil: "Doesn't matter. We probably don't have much time before those two losers from Fae leave with Puck."

Evander: "Precisely. Lucky for you I'm something of a problem solver." Bringing up his equipment which looked like a far more advanced aShine. "There is a small emergency ping hidden from most channels. It's currently located near one of the helipads in section fourteen. Air traffic indicates a helicopter on it's way. I assume this is where your missing friend is."

Sunil, Night, and Evander rush through the ship using Evander's convenient but somewhat strange knowledge of paths to take and elevators to use so they may avoid most people.

Evander: "Well would you look at that, competitors from Fae attempting to abduct an Apricus Citizen. This won't look particularly good for relations now will it?"

Sunil: "Let him go you freaks.."

Night: "Uh you realize we don't have weapons.."

Sunil: "Neither do they.."

Tarseed and Mariposa however seemed content enough to fight without weapons. Mariposa still had plenty of tricks up their sleeve and all they had to do was wait for transport and they create a diversion so they could escape with the currently unconscious Puck.

No one seemed to notice Evander pressing a button on his equipment which seemed to be recording the entire situation and even broadcasting it to certain people.

Evander himself was enough to deal with Tarseed as his combat experience and augmentations made him the superior fighter. Mariposa however was handing both Night and Sunil using several gadgets so as explosives and smoke grenades.

As the fights went on a helicopter had landed and the door slid open. Tarseed managed to use one of Mariposa's smoke bombs to slip away from Evander and attempt to load Puck into the helicopter.

Mariposa activated something resembling a an electric field which temporarily incapacitated Night, and Sunil. Mariposa and Tarseed made their way to the helicopter but were shocked when Evander's partner Kara appeared on the helipad.

Kara made her way over and smashed the electric device before punching through the helicopter and pulling the pilot out. In a panic Tarseed jumped to the controls and began to take off. All of the action must have shaken Puck awake as he struggled against his bounds.

Puck managed to kick Mariposa out of the helicopter though Mariposa hung on as the craft began to gain altitude. Puck stood looking out of the door but suddenly noticed several chains wrap around the helicopter's tail, preventing it from rising. Evander and Kara held on to the chains as Puck took a breath and jumped out.

Sunil managed to catch Puck though it wasn't a particularly graceful landing. Mariposa decided to cut their losses and managed to break the chains holding the helicopter down, allowing the two Fae competitors to escape.

Tournament personnel rushed to the helipad to check on everyone though by the time they arrived Kara and Evander had left. Puck, Sunil, and Night were all brought down for medical evaluations and to explain what had just happened.

Sunil: "Well, never expected Crepusculum to show up and help us out."

Puck hadn't said anything but he seemed to have a strange feeling about all of this.

Night: "Evander was right though. This isn't exactly going to look good when it comes to international relations.."

Sunil: "Why were they after you anyway?"

Puck: "Long story.."

Somewhere on another deck

Evander: "We got him back, don't worry about it."

???: "Good, make sure he gets back to Apricus in one piece. He's too important to lose."

Evander: "We'll handle it. Kara is in the semi-finals, and likely the finals. Everything is going the way you said it would."

???: "Not entirely. There was a mishap with Mr. R so that piece is off the board. Nevertheless, continue on as instructed."

Evander: "Of course."

Conversation ended.

[missveryvery]

Weird take by Rupp here since there's an obvious character this could be, who is exactly what you'd think: a werewolf.

Our modern concept of the werewolf is from a very specific cult myth, like this is our oldest quintessential werewolf thing, which most people might not know but Rupp should.

The word "lycanthropy" isn't a new word, Greeks had this term. The concept is from a cult of Zeus on Mount Lykaion. King Lykaon of Arcadia was turned into a wolf by Zeus after he killed his own son and served him to Zeus, is the basic story. But then there was also a cult that had ceremonies and stuff related to this.

Some Pausanias:

"Lykaon (Lycaon) brought a human baby to the altar of Zeus Lykaios (Lycaeus), and sacrificed it, pouring out its blood upon the altar, and according to the legend immediately after the sacrifice he was changed from a man to a wolf (lykos) . . .

All through the ages, many events that have occurred in the past, and even some that occur to-day, have been generally discredited because of the lies built up on a foundation of fact. It is said, for instance, that ever since the time of Lykaon a man has changed into a wolf at the sacrifice to Zeus Lykaios, but that the change is not for life; if, when he is a wolf, he abstains from human flesh, after nine years he becomes a man again, but if he tastes human flesh he remains a beast for ever."

There's also some spooky zone where you don't cast a shadow on the mountain and if you go in there you'll die within the year. Anyway. Maybe that's who this represents.

As for why, the perspective client might have some tie to the cult or the region.

There's another Lycaon that Heracles killed, this could be a conflation of the two.

Also: werewolves are rad as hell. Sometimes people put pictures of things on things simply because they are cool.

Scene depicting Herakles attacking Nessos pursuing Deianeira. At center infernal Wolf-man, probably a daemon. Heracles armed with club and bow chases Nessos. The centaur escapes pursuing Deianeira who frightened by the hybrid creature is running away. Inside the central tondo there is the enigmatic figure of the wolf-man. According to some scholars, this figure represents the soul of a man bound to the world of the dead. The Etruscan demonizing conception transforms this figure in a man-wolf, a daemon-wolf. Therefore the “monster” could be identified as a restless soul: primarily the spirit of people who had not received a ritual burial, or who had died violently or prematurely. It must be admitted that the visual elements of the decoration on this plate do not clarify the link between the wolf-man and the other figures present in the outer zone of decoration. The wolf-man is oriented in the same direction as Herakles, Nessos, and Deianeira, moving counterclockwise, but his position in the tondo isolates him from the other narrative. It is difficult to say if he is meant to be viewed as somehow related to the scene surrounding him, or, if he belongs to a separate mythological context. Perhaps the running wolf-man could be interpreted as an indication of the fate of the characters in the outer register and read a chthonic symbolism into this figure. Nessos brings about his own death because he attempts to rape Deianeira; Herakles slays him using arrows which had been dipped in the blood of the Lernean Hydra. Deianeira in turn slays Herakles with a cloak soaked in Nessos’ poisoned blood.

Wayne L. Rupp, Shape of the Beast

Etruscan Pontic Plate Height 9.4 cm, diameter 20.0 cm. Attributed to the Tityos Painter Circa 520 BC From Vulci Rome, Villa Giulia, Museo Nazionale Etrusco

Photo credit: Egisto Sani

[hellguarded-moved]

//  tag dump 03

general ship tags cont.

relations.  ( “LYKAIOS” );

relations.  ( “EMPEROR” );

relations.  ( “GORGON” );

verses tags cont.

records.  ( “OFFICIAL” );

records.  ( “UNOFFICIAL” );

alternative records.  ( “SUMMONED” );

alternative records.  ( “HUNTED” );

alternative records.  ( “CRIMINAL” );

headcanon tags.

notes.  ( “CERBERUS” );

notes.  ( “NIHIL” );

notes.  ( “TALONSLASH” );

notes.  ( “CONQUEST” );

notes.  ( “FAMINE” );

notes.  ( “HELIOS” );

notes.  ( “STORMBRINGER” );

notes.  ( “FLAMEDANCER” );

notes.  ( “SPELLSINGER” );

notes.  ( “BLOODSCALE” );

notes.  ( “REVENANT” );

notes.  ( “CETUS” );

notes.  ( “LINCEI” );

notes.  ( “LYKAIOS” );

notes.  ( “EMPEROR” );

notes.  ( “GORGON” );

[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.

[hopelikethemoon]

Out of Reach (Ezra x Reader) ||{Moonbeam} || [smut]

Title: Out of Reach Rating: Explicit  Length: 5,500 Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, angst, smut (oral sex and regular sex), space drug use.  Notes: Proof that I do love all of you.  Part twenty-two of the Moonbeams series.

As soon as you entered the atmosphere of Lykaios, all of your nausea vanished. There was true bliss in being able to gobble down a handful of dehydrated biscuit snacks for the first time in a few days. No more shots, no more nausea tabs, and no more… leaving for the time being.

Shiva had taken it upon themselves to stock your transport with two months of food, mostly to avoid interacting with Quinn. There was something new to feel guilty about. If Quinn hadn’t had to reveal his true identity — because of you — they would’ve been speaking.

You could only hope, but Quinn was leaving alone to go back to Ay-7 for awhile. Shiva didn’t even give him a send-off. 

You couldn’t blame them for being upset with him. Shiva, like most people, despised anyone affiliated with Fiorta. But he was still Quinn. Even if his name was actually Riordan. Except it wasn’t — he may have been born as Riordan, but he chose Quinn.

They’d get over it, sooner or later.

Your heart did somersaults when you saw that Ezra was waiting in the clearing for you. It flooded you with false hope, before you quickly reminded yourself of the reality. He was just walking through the motions.

“Welcome back, moonbeam,” Ezra drawled out as he stepped aboard the transport. “How are you feeling.”

“Good.” You answered as you sealed the door closed. “I ate.”

He smiled warmly, “I was worried about you. Nutros only do so much.” Ezra took a step towards, his eyes lowering to your stomach. “May I?”

Your hand rested against the not-so-subtle swell there, “Of course.” You mirrored his expression, smiling at him. “It’s a good thing I went back to the Block to pick up a few new shirts.”

Ezra reached out and brushed his fingers over your stomach, before spreading his hand out over the curve. “It’s surreal to think that part of me is safely nestled right here.” 

“I can’t imagine why it’s surreal,” You teased lightly, reaching out to play with the soft hair that fell across his forehead, before running your fingers down his cheek. “How are you?”

“Better now.” He told you lightly as he rubbed his fingertips over your stomach. “Can you feel them yet?” 

“Sometimes I think I can,” You told him, resting your hand over the back of his. “Little flutters, but not anything substantial.” 

Ezra lifted his gaze to meet yours, “I feel like I should kiss you right now.” He told you as he stared at your lips. 

You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, teasing your fingertips through the hair at the nape of his neck there. “Then kiss me.” 

He closed the distance between the two of you, his lips brushing over yours. But that wasn’t enough, Ezra tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip as he sought entrance. 

A soft groan escaped you as you sank into the kiss, grabbing at his shoulder for support. If you could just forget for a few moments, suspend the bitter taste of reality, you could just pretend. Ezra was always so enthusiastic when you came back, always ready to smother you with attention or recite a new line of poetry that captured his interest. 

He broke away from the kiss before you had fully savored the brief brush with your imagination, his breath dancing over your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry, I—“

You pressed your fingers to his lips and shook your head. “Not yet.” You whispered, winding your arms around his body and pressing your face into the crook of his neck. He ran his hands down your back, but his touch was awkward — like he wasn’t sure how you needed to be held. There was just enough fumble to pull you back into the bleak moment. 

“So,” You started, twisting yourself out of his embrace and putting space between the two of you. “I apologize for returning so soon. I know I said I anticipated a week.” You had made it four days — not including travel time. 

“You don’t have to apologize for that, moonbeam.” He assured you, shifting his weight from the heels of his feet to his toes and back again. He looked as awkward as you felt. 

“I know, but I told you I would give you space and I’m… Clearly not great at that.” 

The faint smile on Ezra’s lips drew into a tight thin line, “Space. Right.” He clasped his hands together, “You indicated that there was more amiss than what you revealed over the com.” 

You grimaced a little, “Would you like to go sit?” 

“Sure.” Ezra gave a stiff nod, before starting down the corridor towards your quarters, instead of the common area. 

“Ezra?” 

He glanced back at you, “What?” 

“Do you know where you’re going?” 

He stopped, turning towards you then. “Your quarters?” 

“You haven’t been on my transport before… since what happened.” You had spent your last night on Lykaios with him on his transport — before heading back to yours with Shiva the next morning. 

Ezra blinked slowly, “I haven’t.” 

You shook your head. 

“Oh.” He laughed incredulously. “I think I remember…” He looked back down the hallway towards your quarters, brows drawn together. “It’s dark.” 

“It’s alright.” You moved towards him, reaching for his hand. “I don’t expect you to remember anything.” 

Ezra shook his head, “That was weird. It was almost like…” He squeezed your hand. “Like an impression of something I once knew.” 

You brought his hand to your lips, letting it linger. “It’s a start. Another start.” 

He rubbed his thumb over the center of your palm, before guiding you down the corridor to your quarters. 

“You know,” You started. “I would’ve been a lot more nervous to tell you this before.” 

“Bad news?” He arched a brow.

“It relates to Quinn.” 

“Do I want to know?” Ezra eyed you suspiciously and ducked as you swung your hand at him. “I’m joking!”

“Am I laughing?” You protested as the corners of your lips twitched upwards.

He started laughing, “Yes!” 

You put your hands on your hips, “No I’m not.” 

Ezra scooped you up — never ceasing to impress you with his strength — before depositing you unceremoniously onto the bed. “Tell me.” 

You huffed, sinking back onto your bed and propping your legs up on his lap. “It’s not fun news, you know. It’s more like, the Corps might be after our baby.” 

“What?” He stiffened, his eyes locking onto your face. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, at my appointment the medic discovered that the baby and I aren’t entirely compatible with each other. I personally think it only occurs when I’m not on Lykaios — I never feel that bad when I’m here.” 

“But the Corps.”

“I’m getting there. The medic wanted to do some risky procedure, which I vetoed and then… I mentioned that the father wasn’t fully human. Look, you could be Zendovian, Yaelori, or any number of species that have been known to mix with humans, but… my record says the last place I jumped to was Lykaios.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he held your gaze, “And then what?”

“I lied. I said the baby was conceived on Ay-7, just to save face. Timing is off if they pull the logs, but…” You sank back and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t think they’ll be a problem.” 

“When has the Corps ever not been a problem?” He seethed. “They’ll come here and ruin everything. That’s what they do.”

“Not always. Especially… considering I discovered that all this time I knew the heir to Fiorta.” 

“Riordan Northcott vanished twenty years ago,” Ezra remarked. “Rumors always suggested he was caught with his pants down with the wrong person.”

You snorted, “That sounds about right.” You tilted your head to look at Ezra, “It’s Quinn.”

“Excuse me?” His jaw dropped. “Our Quinn?” 

You nodded slowly, “Rumors apparently weren’t largely exaggerated. He only told me the need-to-know aspects of his life, but… it makes so much sense now.” 

He was still just staring at you, “And he isn’t involved?” 

“No.” You assured him. “But he’s going to get involved to try to waylay any danger. Given all of their ventures, I can’t imagine that Lykaios or our baby is high on their radar.” 

“And this was what had you so agitated?”

“Well, yeah. Quinn is about to get himself tangled up in a situation he tried to leave because of me, Shiva won’t talk to him, and you’re…”

“Broken?”

“For lack of a better word.” You sighed heavily. “If I hadn’t gone to Arcadia, if I hadn’t made that deal, if I hadn’t… stupidly brought it up with you.” 

Ezra lifted your legs off his lap so he could move up the bed, draping himself over your body carefully. His knees pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your hips, his hands planted beside your head. 

“You have to stop blaming yourself, moonbeam.” He told you, his dark eyes fixed on yours. There was a familiar warmth there, a quiet adoration that warmed you.

“I have a lot of regrets,” You admitted, trying to will the tears you felt welling in your eyes not to fall. 

Ezra’s brows creased together, “Do you regret what we had?” 

“No,” You whispered, before you quietly corrected yourself. “A little. More so now that I know that…” You shook your head slowly. “I didn’t know how serious your condition was, Ezra. You hid it so well.” 

“If I chose not to reveal that to you, perhaps it was because it didn’t matter to me anymore. A person can overlook pain if the alternative is better than they could’ve imagined.” He drawled out, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “I may not truly know you, little lamb, but I know what the ghost of these emotions feel like.” 

You blinked slowly, causing a hot tear to slip down your cheek. “Everyone has had to make sacrifices because of me. How is that fair?” 

“Haven’t you made your own?” Ezra questioned, “You told me that you died and now you’re carrying our baby — something that is to the detriment of your own life. We all make sacrifices for those we love. We give little pieces of ourselves to the people who matter.” 

“Ezra—“

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, “I may not remember, but I do know why I would make certain decisions.”

You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, sliding your fingers over the scar that marred his skin there. “Why?”

“I feel the depths of my love for you, even still.” He murmured, his voice dropping low as he leaned down to kiss you. 

This was a dangerous game — one you ached to play. 

You raked your fingers through his hair as you tilted your chin to close the distance between your lips. Your tongue slid out, trailing across his lips as you sought out his. A needy sound rising up the back of your throat. 

Ezra moved above you, planting a knee between your thighs. 

Once again, he broke the kiss before you were ready for the moment to end, breath dancing over your tender lips. “What about slow?” 

“Fuck slow.” You hissed out, reaching down to tug at the hem of his shirt, drawing the fabric up his back. 

Ezra sank back on his legs, peeling off his shirt and tossing it aside. You sat up, reaching out to run your hands over the warm skin of his chest. 

You pressed your lips to the hollow of his throat, letting your lips linger there, before he helped you pull off your own thin sweater.  His hands roamed over your newly bared skin, sliding along the curve of your waist. 

“You’re sure?” He questioned, brows drawn together with concern as he cupped your cheek. 

“Yes,” You nodded, reaching down to unlatch the buckle of his belt, pulling it from the loops of his pants. “I need this.” 

Ezra kissed the top of your head. “Whatever you want, moonbeam.” He murmured, his voice almost too quiet to even hear. But you did. 

You tugged the zipper down and forced the closure apart so you could shove his pants down his hips and thighs. After they were shed, you laid back and let him do the same with your pants, peeling away every barrier that separated the two of you — except for his memories. That was a barrier you couldn’t breach. Not yet.

Ezra laid you back against the bed once more, draping himself over you as he claimed your mouth again. His rough hands wandered, skimming over the swell of your breast, dragging his thumb over your taut nipple, before trailing downwards to grasp at your hip as he rocked against you. 

His cock was trapped between your bodies, rigid against your thigh. He moved downwards, mouth hot against your throat, lips brushing over that spot at the crook of your neck that always seemed to draw him in. 

You let yourself get lost in the sensation. Ezra’s skilled mouth tasting every inch of you from your lips to the soft flesh of your inner thighs. 

“Look at you,” He drawled out as he parted your slick folds, brushing his thumb over clit. “Fuck, you’re soaked, little lamb.”  

It reminded you of the first time your thighs had framed his face, the first time he coaxed a release from you. Your lips parted with a breathy moan as Ezra sank two fingers into your slick center, his tongue sweeping over that aching bundle of nerves. 

Your hips arched up off the bed and his grip tightened to hold you steady. He curled his fingers within you, seeking out that sweet spot that only he seemed skilled enough to find. 

“Ezra.” You moaned, squirming beneath him as he sucked at your clit lightly. You were right on the brink, inner walls fluttering around his fingers. 

Ezra released his hold on your hip, reaching for your hand instead. It wasn’t fair — the way he slotted his fingers in between yours, the way he held your hand as he pushed you over the edge. 

It felt like bliss and agony rolled into one as you came apart at the seams, your cunt gushing around his fingers as he dragged them in and out of you. 

He took his time with you. You watched him lick his fingers clean, before he worked his tongue between your slick folds, lapping at your arousal. 

You pressed your foot against his shoulder, trying to push him away as you twitched beneath his ministrations, your clit far too sensitive to endure the teasing stroke of his tongue. “Ezra.” 

He turned his head and nipped at the inside of your thigh gently, “Tell me I never took this for granted.” He peppered kisses over your skin. “I could devote my life to making you come — just like this.”

“You took full advantage,” You told him with a lazy smirk as you watched him move back up the length of your body. You ran your thumb over his bottom lip, fresh desire burning through you as he sucked your thumb into his mouth. “As did the beast.” 

“I bet.” He released your thumb with a wet pop, before leaning in to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips and his tongue, which only fueled your need. 

You curled your leg around his hip, moaning against his mouth as his cock dragged between your sensitive folds. “Please.” 

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” You breathed out as you reached between your bodies to guide his cock to your center. “I need this. You.” 

Ezra gently cradled your jaw in his palm, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he pressed into you. His lashes fluttered, but he kept his gaze trained on you. “Fuck.” He rasped. “You feel good.” 

“So do you.” You leaned up and caught his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging gently at it before trailing kisses along his jaw. “I missed this.” 

Ezra stroked his thumb down the center of your throat, before planting both hands against the bed beside your head for leverage. He rocked forward, snapping his hips into you before drawing back and repeating the motion again and again. 

It was different — good, but different. It lacked the desperation of that first time with Ezra and it lacked the tenderness that came from loving someone. It was still him. He just couldn’t remember what came before. 

A part of you wished you had rolled over beneath him, pressed your face into the pillow and let him drive the length of his cock into you, but it hasn’t felt right. This felt right. 

Looking up at him as he rocked into you, kissing him each time he dipped down to steal another one from you. There was so much there that just was — memories or no memories. 

Tendrils of pleasure burned through you as you clenched around his cock, fingernails digging into the back of his arms as you climbed to him. 

Ezra picked up the pace, his breath coming out in labored pants as he filled you. Your name slipped past his lips as he buried himself within you and came apart. He kept himself there, rocking his hips slowly as he spilled out. 

He slid out of you far sooner than you wanted, rolling onto the bed beside you to keep from putting too much weight on your stomach. You prepared yourself for him to pull away — to put space between the two of you. But he didn’t. 

Ezra pressed his lips to the curve of your shoulder, molding his body into the shape of yours, his hand wandering over your bare skin, before settling at your stomach. “I don’t know the particular cautions around copulation during pregnancy.” He remarked, his words muffled against your shoulder.

You snorted, “Never change.” 

He tilted his head to rest his chin against your arm, flashing you a cheeky grin. “What?” 

“Copulation.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re the only man I know who would use ‘copulation’ immediately after fucking.” 

Ezra shrugged a shoulder, “It sounded right, little lamb.” He smirked a little, his fingers wandering lower. 

Your lips parted with a breathy sigh as he skimmed his fingers between the slick folds of your cunt, gathering up the mess left behind there. “Ezra.” You whispered, curling your fingers around his wrist as you pulled his hand away. 

He arched a brow as he watched you bring his fingers to your mouth, dragging your tongue over them before wrapping your lips around them. He stroked his fingers over your tongue as you let them go with a wet pop. 

“Fuck, that’s…” Instead of finishing his sentence, he kissed you. The kind of kiss that was bound to leave your lips tingling tomorrow. 

You melted into him as he kissed you, meeting his desperation with your own until you were both nose-to-nose and drawing in ragged breaths. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t be.” You murmured, kissing his shoulder as you curled your arms around him. “This… you  . You’re all I need right now, Ez.” You didn’t have to pretend. You could just fall in love with him all over again. 

Ezra tossed his satchel onto the bed beside you as he shook a handful of loose lunaxium in his palm, “You wouldn’t happen to have a mortar and pestle, would you?”

“You brought one,” You finished the last bite of fruit, before sliding out of your bed. “How is it?”

“Thought I could ignore it. We had such a good evening last night, but…” He grimaced and shook his head. 

“Would you be willing to tell me more?” You questioned as you stepped out into the corridor to retrieve the device from the fresher. “You were always downplaying it until, well… You were in rough shape.”

“Right now it’s simply just a mind-numbing headache. Everything is darkly tinged at the corners.” He took the mortar and pestle and started grinding it into a thin powder. “I am almost proud of myself for concealing it. That had to have been no easy task.” 

You watched him as he carefully lined up the lunaxium dust, before snorting it. It didn’t look particularly pleasurable at first. His brows knit together and his jaw dropped, but then his features softened. 

“Sorry,” He muttered, rubbing the back of his hand under nose. 

“No, no.” You shook your head. “It doesn’t bother me. You just always hid when you had to use it.” 

“I was probably ashamed,” Ezra admitted. “I get the impression that I didn’t like the reminders of our differences.” He rubbed at his nose again, before scooting back to lean against the wall beside you. “How are you?” 

“I slept well last night.” You told him as you picked up another piece of fruit from the dish beside you, peeling off the peel. “Someone wore me out.”

Ezra chuckled, cocking his head to the side as he looked at you, “It was quite a way to end my five year dry spell a second time.” 

You pried out a segment of the fruit, biting it in half before offering the other bite to him. “I think it was exactly what we both needed.” 

He leaned over and used his mouth to take the fruit from your fingers, licking the nectar off his bottom lip. “It didn’t feel like scratching the itch.” Ezra drawled out, rubbing his thumb over the center of his forehead. 

“Is it helping?” 

“Yeah.” Ezra exhaled slowly. “Takes a few to kick in.” He slumped back against the wall. You could tell it was working it’s magic on him. His movements seemed sluggish and relaxed. All of the tension in his body seemed to ebb away. 

“Do you think I should take lunaxium?” 

Ezra’s eyes slid to meet yours, “For what?”

You gestured to your stomach, “This little spawn of yours.” 

“Pup.” He corrected with a crooked grin. “I don’t know. You said you get sick when you’re off world?”

“Nausea, cramping, headache, general malaise.” You explained as you took another bite of fruit. “It’s getting worse every time I go back to the Block.”

“Then you should stay here,” Ezra ran his fingers down the side of your arm. “You already proved that you can endure the full moon here. That the beast knows you, little lamb.” 

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “And that’s how I know you’re not you.” 

“But I am.” Ezra insisted, leaning to rest his head against your shoulder. “I’m still the man who loves you.” 

Your expression fell, “Ezra, you’re high.” 

“So?” 

“So.” You muttered, grabbing a pillow to present him with instead of your shoulder as you started to move out of his grasp. “You barely know me.” 

Ezra stretched out on your bed, his arms wrapped around the pillow as he rested his face against it. “But I do know you. I feel you.” 

“Sleep it off, champ.” You remarked as you cleaned up the mess you’d made with the fruit, sitting the bowl of discarded peel on the little stand beside your bunk. 

“Are you listening to me?” He questioned, even as his eyes were tightly closed. 

“Yes, I am.” You sighed, dropping his satchel on the ground as you pulled the covers up and over him. “But you’re high and talking nonsense.” 

“I was confused,” Ezra mumbled. “When you brought me back to my transport. My thoughts were so disjointed and I didn’t mean… I care about you, moonbeam.” 

“It’s all been forgiven,” You assured him, brushing your fingers through the hair that fell against his temple. “Just relax. Hopefully you’ll wake up feeling better.”

“Will you stay?” He drowsily rubbed his hand over the bed beside him. 

“I’m going to call Shiva and then I’ll come back to bed.” You promised. “Just rest, Ez.” 

“I like when you call me that.” Ezra whispered, as his breathing finally evened out. 

You quietly moved across your quarters to grab your datapad out of the charging dock, before heading down the corridor to the cockpit. Shiva hadn’t had enough time to set up the comlink like the one you and Ezra used — this one required an additional boost from the nav system to siphon off the satellite grid. 

It took three rings for them to answer, “Yrica’s frosty nips. I was asleep.” 

“Shit.” You checked the time. “I forgot. So much of our time is spent inside I lose track of—“

“It’s fine.” Shiva assured you. “How are you? Did you stop puking your guts up?” 

“As soon as I re-entered the atmosphere, I felt like new again.” You rested your hand on your stomach as you kicked back in your jump seat. “I carb loaded as soon as I could.”

Shiva yawned dramatically, “I hope you hydrated too.”

“I drank plenty.” You laughed softly. “Ezra was insistent this morning… or whatever time it was. We slept for like eight hours.” 

“How’s that situation going?” 

“Well��“

“You had your second first time with him, didn’t you?” 

“Am I that obvious?” 

“No, but he is.” Shiva snickered. “Despite how deceptive the two of you were being while I was there, his interest in you was blatant.” 

“At least I’m not misreading that situation.” You propped your elbow up on the armrest of your jump seat. “It’s a delicate situation.” 

“How were things after?” 

“Great.” You shrugged. “He’s still… It’s still Ezra. He still does what I would expect from him. We cuddled and he fell asleep. I woke up a little later to use the fresher and he was just as clingy when I got back.” 

“Oh, he was ‘clingy,’ huh?” Shiva taunted.

You rolled your eyes, “And then we slept for eight hours.” You felt your cheeks warm, “You’re not going to hear me complain about the wake-up.” 

“Called it.” They laughed softly. “You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. Where is he right now?”

“Resting. Headache.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “It kills me to know how much pain he’s been in all along, but he hid it from me.” 

“Yeah, well we all hide things from the people we care about.” 

“Have you heard from Quinn?” 

“Who?”

“Shiva.”

“Fuck Quinn.” 

“He didn’t keep that from us for insidious reasons, Shiva.” You sighed heavily. “I don’t understand why you won’t at least give him a little grace.”

“I’ve given him a lot of grace.” Shiva said flatly. “I’ve hauled his ass around the galaxy and bailed him out when he’s fucked up. He could’ve told me. I wouldn’t have judged him.” 

“You wouldn’t have judged him? Like you’re not judging him right now?” 

“It’s different now. He waited too long.” 

“Shiva, I genuinely think Quinn just repressed his past. The only reason it came up was because of me. I don’t think he kept that from us as a ‘fuck you’ to either of us.” 

“Maybe he’ll prodigal son his way back into their good graces. Then I won’t have to be his emotional support person anymore.” Shiva huffed. 

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s just chomping at the bit to get back in there and have his life controlled by his ultra-conservative family.” You snapped. “Quinn definitely seems like the type to be content with that.” 

“We both know he loves glad-handing.” 

“He also loves being free to do who and what he pleases.” You sank back in your seat. “Give him an inch, Shiva. Don’t make me feel guilty over killing your friendship.”

“Then Riordan shouldn’t have lied to us.” 

“I don’t think Quinn was doing it as a slight.” You shook your head. “Just try, alright?” 

“No, but I’ll say ‘yes’ to help you sleep better at night.” 

“I’m honoured.” You quipped. “I should probably go. I promised Ezra I’d nap with him.” 

“Com me later?” 

“Yeah. Go back to sleep.” 

“I’m up now. I’ve got an AI bot to tinker with.” 

“Have fun with that.” You offered, before killing the com. You had to hold onto the hope that the two of them would fix their friendship. They’d been friends too long to see that torn apart because of you. 

Ezra was still out cold on your bed and snoring softly. He looked so relaxed — he always did when he was asleep and unbothered by the pain. You wished he’d been honest with you about all of that before. It hurt a little more to find out from a version of him that was uninhibited by emotions. 

You leaned down to pick up the contents of his satchel that had spilled out on the floor by your bed. The little pouch of lunaxium had lost a few pieces of the rock. You tucked them back into the pouch — all but one. 

If your baby was like Ezra, wouldn’t they need lunaxium too? 

Sinking down onto the side of the bed you placed the rock on your tongue, it tasted like copper and something oddly tangy. The rough texture felt strange against your tongue, but it softened into a malleable enough texture that you could swallow it.  

At least it seemed safer to try lunaxium with Ezra right beside you. It took awhile to feel anything. You’d done dust on At-7 — you knew what getting high felt like. But this was slower, it weighed down your limbs and made your insides feel… different. 

You drowsily slid under the covers beside Ezra, curling into the crook of his body, seeking his warmth as an unusual chill moved through your body. 

Everything felt a little brighter, a little louder… You could feel the life humming from within you. That star that you had plucked from the sky and swallowed. The life that had taken root within you, that was drawing from you for sustenance. 

Light twisted behind your eyes, causing you to fall upwards into an increasing brightness — like you were ascending into a supernova. Bathed in warm light. Was this what Ezra felt whenever he used lunaxium? 

You seemed more aware of your existence. Every little flutter in your womb felt like you should’ve been able to see the movement beneath your skin. If you could even see your own body. It was just light. 

“Moros holds the keys to all of our fate.” 

“Who’s there?” 

You recognised the voice. Callisto. 

“He tricked us to turn on our own brother.” She told you, her disembodied voice like a whisper against your skin. “Convinced Psophis that freedom was his, only to bind him into the form of a wolf for all eternity.”

“Can I get Ezra’s memories back?”

“They’re not gone… just out of reach.” Callisto told you. “Like your own were.” 

“But I remembered.”

“Ezra was weak. The fight was drained from him before he could cling to his mind.” 

“And I’m supposed to trust you?” 

“An enemy of my enemy is the closest of friends.” Callisto assured you. “Arcadia is out of reach for my siblings, but you…” 

“I’m not going back there,” You protested. “Not while I’m pregnant.” 

“Once the child is born,” Callisto said smoothly. “We will spare both of you, if you help to free us.” 

“And Ezra?” 

“Will be free too.” 

“But his memories.” 

“Are just out of reach.” Callisto repeated. “Promise me you’ll help to free us.” 

“I’m leery of making vows after Moros.” 

She sighed, “We’ll spare you and your child, regardless of your success.” 

“And Ezra?” 

“And Ezra.” 

“Then I’ll help.” You told her, blinking at the dark shape in the bright light that surrounded you. You could see her — the outline of her. “But I can’t make any promises.” 

“Hope is enough for me.” Callisto vanished, swept up in a breeze, taking the light with her. 

Stars cascaded above you, falling across the sky rather than downwards. Green light danced through the night sky, transforming into shimmering blue and pink shapes, before vanishing with the stars. 

You fell backwards, falling and falling until you felt the firm pressure of your mattress at your back. 

You gasped, sitting bolt upright in the bed. The movement was enough to jerk Ezra awake, a sharp growl escaping him like he was primed to attack someone. 

“It’s just me.” You assured him, meeting his wild eyes. “It’s just me. I had a nightmare.” 

Ezra kept staring at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “I thought…” He blinked, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I thought.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. “I think I was still asleep.”

“You growled.” 

Ezra laughed a little as he sank back onto the bed, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Did you think you remembered?” You questioned quietly. 

He nodded stiffly, before admitting, “For just a second.” Ezra pulled you towards him, pressing his face into your hair. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s alright,” You kissed his throat and the underside of his jaw. “It’s just out of reach.” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Exactly.”

[hellguarded-a]

NPC list! aka important characters to my muse’s story, most of them are muses of mine that i’ve played sometime in the past but can’t dedicate myself to anymore, but they’re still relevant to ignis since they’re all part of this one big universe.

TISIPHONE.

one of the three furies, primarily residing in the shadow realm of erebus. tried to shelter ignis from the life of a hound of hades, though eventually he heard the call and followed it anyway.  he’s never seen her since.  his fury bloodline is something that mainly fuels his innate need to punish crimes.

CERBERUS.

the three-headed hound was revealed to be ignis’ father only after he’d met hades and been introduced to his fate of his heir; that he was to take up the mantle of hound of hades once cerberus had perished.  however, since ignis is a crossbreed, many of his peers look down on him;  but there is no other legitimate heir.

NOCTIS.

pureblood fury, or a shadow demon, if you will.  ignis’ older half-brother, from his mother’s side. he’s been with the gonchiye for a shorter time than him, and their relation alone had earned him the moniker orthrus, which in myth’s is cerberus’ older brother, despite noctis’ apparent lack of hellhound qualities. very volatile, had to be collared from the beginning, specializes in sabotage where little strategy and subtlety is needed.

HADES ( & persephone ).

the god of the dead and king of the underworld, his loyal hounds follow his orders, and his reign over them is further spread by the employment of houndmasters, blessed by his call ---  the ability to control and summon the hellhounds at whim.

persephone had shown ignis a brighter side to things, eventually even blessing him with the floral seal upon his left shoulder that allows him to walk the mortal realm.  also his unrequited crush from his early years.  ( @skyhunted off-handedly plays persephone so i don’t officially include her as one of mine, but she’s worth mentioning. )

CALIGOS.

draconic smoke fiend, acting as one of hades’ houndmasters. this group is commonly known as the ‘lykaios,’ and they have the ability to control the hounds with little more than a whistle. they carve their own, custom whistles from the bones of deceased hellhounds or their shed horns, which allow them to imitate the call of hades, something no hellhound can resist.  they each have a hellhound partner that had imprinted on them, caligos’ being an albino hound called sídero or just sid for short.  eventually hired by lucius to track  ( and preferrably, kill, or seal him back in the underworld )  ignis after his treachery.

LUCIUS.

the horseman of conquest and pestilence, he’s the one to launch project gonchiye, rising it from the ruins of an old pit fighting compound of supernatural beings located in russia.  the organization remains situated in the country to this day, and in the horseman’s zealous pursuit of upkeeping balance and the preparation of the inevitable apocalypse, he develops a deadly virus that had been first introduced to a certain  fox  within the ring.  he’s tasked ignis with his assassination ---  and eventually targeted him for termination once he’d failed  ( twice )  and tried to escape with the virus uncontained, since he’d gotten infected himself due to exposure to the patient zero.

SHINJOU DENALI.

lightning-based kitsune, one of the two leaders of the order of the lotus. patient zero for the pestilence, raised in the fighting pits, is main target of operation stormbringer, and, unfortunately, one of ignis’ past lovers which made it difficult for the sentimental hound to actually pull the trigger.

KALISHA SATOU.

a close friend within the gonchiye ranks, kalisha is a lynx mountain nekomata of latino origins.  she’s one of the few who had been recruited by the gonchiye againist their will, and that led to her immediatelly getting collared to keep her under control.  she’s bitter and vengeful, having not yet gotten over the murder of her late husband and son, and the only thing that keeps her docile are the excessive amount of the drug within the collar. her coldblooded and otherwise quiet nature make for an excellent spy and assassin.

[nazario-sayeed]

Mardi Gras, New Orleans and Nightbound

After that Nightbound sneak peek, I started to furiously research about Mardi Gras and New Orleans. I'm obsessed and bombing @lahelalove​ and @nazariortega​ with all information I can get, but I decided to organize my thoughts and what I've learned in a few minutes. English is not my first language and this is way too much information that I'm trying to summarize, so please bear with me. I'll put the information under a cut because it turned out way longer than I previously thought. There might be some sensitive sexual content under the cut, so proceed with caution. 

First of all, the concept of Mardi Gras may not be familiar for non americans (I had no idea of what it was until a hour ago). So, what the hell is it? According to the internet, "Mardi Gras is a tradition that dates back thousands of years to pagan celebrations of spring and fertility. When Christianity arrived in Rome, religious leaders decided to incorporate these popular local traditions into the new faith, an easier task than abolishing them altogether. As a result, the excess and debauchery of the Mardi Gras season became a prelude to Lent, the 40 days of fasting and penance between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday." It is also known as Carnival or Carnaval, and the most famous celebrations around the world happen in Brazil (where I'm from so y'all don't mind if I scream), Venice and New Orleans. I can't talk for the celebration in other places, but here in Brazil it's all about celebrating the pleasures of the flesh, it's about excess. Food, drinks, sex... A few days of profanity leading up to 40 days to cleanse your soul or whatever before Easter (I'm not religious so I'm not sure how it works exactly, sorry). And for what I've read online, what happens in NOLA is not that different. Mardi Gras literally means Fat Tuesday, even though it's more focused on the food aspect of the tradition- eating fat, rich food (especially King Cake) in the days leading up to the Lent.

Although we still celebrate Mardi Gras to this day, its earliest record comes from ancient times, from the celebration of a fertility festival called Lupercalia that welcomed the arrival of Spring. This Lupercalia celebration has been described as “a drunken orgy of merrymaking held each February in Rome, after which participants fasted for 40 days.”

The word Lupercalia caught my eye when I started to research. Thanks to Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, I knew it was somehow related to wolves and fertility, and that it was celebrated on the day after Valentine's Day. Let's learn a bit about its origin and meaning: "In its classical manifestation, Lupercalia (“The Wolf Festival”) was a bizarre ritual where young men (who were called Luperci, the wolf people) would run around whipping women with goat skin thongs. (...) Some writers associated the celebration with the Luperca, the she-wolf who fed the twin founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus. Most often, however, the celebration was associated with the god Pan- the Faunus. Pan was a half-man half-goat divinity. A god of sheepherders, Pan was a divinity of the forests, wild life, and, remarkably, fertility. The sexuality of Pan would indeed explain the young men’s lashings of women at the Lupercalia festival. The whippings were supposed to induce fertility and can be seen as a symbolical sexual act. If the festival of the Lupercalia was in honor of Pan, how could we explain the name of “Wolf Festival”? Pan was not obviously associated with wolves, but rather with goats. However, the Pan celebrated in Rome was, we are told, Pan Lykaios, the wolf-Pan. St Augustine tells us that this Pan was so named because he held the key to the mystery of men becoming wolves. In other words, Pan was the master of werewolves." 

As I said before, New Orleans holds one of the biggest Mardi Gras celebration across the world- and it's definitely the most famous one in the USA. "The city is obsessed with eating, costuming, bead-tossing and parading that increases in intensity as Ash Wednesday nears. On the weekends leading up to Fat Tuesday, parades roll all over town". Does it ring any bells? In the very first chapter of Nightbound, we got to experience all of this: parades, bead-tossing and partying. I can only imagine that Mardi Gras itself will take place in tomorrow's chapter- and shit will go down. 

The festival is linked to wolves, so I think we might be getting some wolf content tomorrow (probably a Cal scene, or maybe we'll get to see some others wolves again). I doubt they would give us sex scenes two weeks in a row, but Mardi Gras is about fertility and debauchery, so maybe they will explore that side we can only hope so. Another important thing about Mardi Gras': the masks and the parades. When we found Thomas last chapter, he was in some kind of deposit and we could see Mardi Gras props on the background. Those masked skeleton things attacked us as well, which showed us that Thomas could control then. So yeah, he'll probably attack us in the middle of the parade with those things. 

I don't know if anyone read everything and to be honest I don't even know what is the point I'm trying to make with this post. I just thought all of this was interesting and hopefully someone will think the same. Maybe we'll learn more about Mardi Gras in tomorrow's chapter, but I guess I thought it would be nice to go into the chapter knowing at least a bit about all of this. 

[infinitedraconity]

So, I gave this a watch, and honestly? I was... meh about it.

I have nothing against Tribe Lykaios (the pack who participated in the episode), but they are a specific group with very particular beliefs and practices that in no way represent all therians. Vice likely picked them because their practices are a bit out there, which makes this more of a shock piece than anything else.

Therianthropy itself was sorely misrepresented as far as I'm concerned. They were very wishy-washy on the definition, as well as what it means to be a therian. Mother Gunnr says towards the beginning: "I do not believe I am a wolf. I follow its path. Its spirit guides me." She also states "We just so happen to relate to wolves." This leads me to believe that the Tribe sees the wolf as a totem or a guide rather than something they see themselves as in a literal sense. There are other parts where she says things along the lines of "I am a wolf," or talking about those who feel they should have been born as something else (which, by the wording, I assume she includes herself in this category), but whether it's the editing or the pack's words, the definition of therianthropy is very muddy.

There was a bit too much of an emphasis on letting go, as well, though I'm glad they went for the angle of "letting go of leadership" rather than "letting go of your beliefs and practices." They brought in a therapist, which I was worried for at first, but he was actually rather understanding. They didn't paint the pack members as crazy or strange (looking at you, TLC) like I feared they might, though I was not a fan of them framing Mother Gunnr's backstory as the explanation for her connection to wolves.

I guess the biggest thing I wish they had done is reached out to more therians from a greater variety of places, belief systems, and backgrounds, though I think that's honestly asking way too much of a company like Vice. It's a step up from the last bigger documentary on therians and otherkin, but it just shows that we still have a long way to go before we're correctly represented in media.

Therian News

On the 16th of February 2022, ViceTV aired the 4th episode in their “In Our Own World” series. The episode was simply titled, “Therians.” The just under an hour episode focused on a woman called Mother Gunnr who leads a pack of 20-something self-described therians.

Mother Gunnr is a mother of several children and the conflict of the episode mostly focuses around her feeling like being the pack leader (organizer, etc) and being a mom is causing her to stretch her attention to thin between her pack duties and her duties to her children. Thus she is now is thinking of stepping down.

The pack is said to have been started in 2007.

The episode brings up several events/ritual her and her pack members partake in that appear to be things uniquely created/named by the the members.

Link to Trailer on ViceTV’s Twitter account: https://twitter.com/VICETV/status/1493631190565281797

Link to ViceTV’s website where the episode can be viewed:  https://www.vicetv.com/en_us/video/therians/61d769a12fdf3c3d00546f55

Link to ViceTv’s additional tweets promoting the episode: https://twitter.com/VICETV/status/1493676495226621952

[meet-me-at-kingsmeet]

Why I don’t like the OT3 (Damen/Laurent + Erasmus)

This obviously involves shipping in the fandom so please read this post and understand I’m not making this to personally attack anyone.

Conditioning definition:

have a significant influence on or determine (the manner or outcome of something). Synonyms: constrain, control, govern, determine, decide

Bring (something) into the desired state for use. Synonyms: treat, prepare, prime, temper, process, acclimatize, acclimate, season

I’m going to be using this word a lot. It can have types of meaning, depending on how it’s used. There can be innocent, cute ways such as giving your crush a piece of candy every time they see you, so when they see you they think of candy. But we’re not talking about that. We’re discussing slavery and it’s affect on relationships. Human Conditioning is “the characteristics, key events, and situations which compose the essentials of human existence, such as birth, growth, emotionality, aspiration, conflict, and mortality.” Basically, how treatment and situations affects you as a person. It’s often talked about how it can be used sadistically against humans and their nature (i. e. slavery) (It’s quite an interesting psychological study and I recommend anyone who likes psychology learn a bit about it!).

Let me start off by saying in most fandoms I let people ship whatever they want. For the most part I don’t think most of fandom stuff is harmful (some truly can be don’t get me wrong). I’,m an extremely open minded person. Both online and irl. It is one of the things I truly actually respect about myself. Captive Prince is a bit different though. It touches sensitive subjects and already has discourse surrounding it, so I automatically am very particular about what I feel and do in the fandom (of course i sometimes mess up or change my feelings/ideas about something, I’m only human and it’s bound to happen). However I’ve come across this ship for weeks and it’s been bothering the absolute fuckery out of me and i can’t not express myself anymore on why it’s bothering me.

Now Erasmus was the only character I liked book one and half way through book two. I don’t say that lightly. I didn’t like Damen, or Laurent, or Nicaise, or anybody. Erasmus showed up and I was like “oh thank fuck finally, a character who doesn’t annoy the absolute fuckery out of me.” So he’s very special in my heart.

And… boy. BOY.

Erasmus has been trained since he was a child to be a [pleasure] slave. Now I live in an area that has a high percentage rate of human trafficking, so I’m going to talk about something that’s very upsetting and real. There was a girl whose parents sold her into human trafficking as a baby. Her whole life she was a sex slave. Yes, there are disgusting human beings out there who have sex with two year olds. And she was a victim of that. By the time she was 18/19 (around Erasmus’ age) She had been rescued. After lots of therapy and attempts to help her learn and understand how society morally is (not the trafficking society she was raised in), she still had trouble understanding what happened to her was wrong. She didn’t comprehend that being a sex slave as a child was wrong, and didn’t understand that she was rescued. It’s all she knew. There are lots more awful stories like this, too many. But human trafficking is modern sex slavery. That’s it. Period. So here is definitive example of human conditioning in sex slavery.

Akielos had this fetishized ideology that if they didn’t beat their slaves or have sex with them when they were children, that it was perfectly okay! Damen believed this 100% and didn’t even really see slaves as people (because he was raised with the idea that slaves were property). Erasmus was conditioned since a child (at least starting at age 11/12) to be a sex slave. And before that, probably a regular palace slave (it’s most likely he was born/sold into slavery at an extremely young age, especially considering how obedient he is).

That is the same exact shit this poor girl went through. At a young age, sold into [sex] slavery. Now brains work in different ways I understand this. Look at Kallias for example: Kallias was a sex slave, raised just as Erasmus, but he was a bit more rebellious. He outwardly would state/express in some way that he wanted to be with Erasmus and be free. He only remained obedient for reasons I will assume like: Wanting to remain close to Erasmus, not wanting to be punished, not being able to obtain a job and survive (Meaning, perhaps slaves can’t work if they’re disobedient, and he was also a high rank slave being Kastor’s main slave and all. He probably hoped for a bit more freedoms coming with being a High ranking noble’s). But his personality was definitely more rebellious than Erasmus’. Who was straight up obedient to a fault.

Erasmus was training to be Damen’s slave. Lykaios was also Damen’s main slave. How did Damen describe her as she was being murdered? Something along the lines of “soldiers didn’t even need to forcefully kill her. If they asked her to show her neck to cut it, she would obey.” THAT IS THE KIND OF SLAVES DAMEN OWNED. So don’t try and tell me that Erasmus, the sweet little angel who would try to not cry out when he was being tortured with fire, not because he didn’t want to be hurt, but because he wanted to obey, was not trained to the point where if Damen told Erasmus to take a sword to the throat he would (spoiler: he would).

So far: Erasmus has been trained and conditioned since childhood (an early development phase in which affects a person through the rest of their lives) to obey all royalty or higher rankings without question, specifically King Damianos.

I’ll circle back around to this but let’s turn our focus onto Laurent and Damen. The second main reason I don’t like this ot3 is because it’s so out of character. Like above and beyond. I’m gonna break it down through each character:

Laurent:

Even as a child was an introverted bookworm. Did not really have any friends besides his brother, Auguste

First sexual relationship was a nonconsensual relationship between him and his Uncle (whether Laurent was aware of it as wrong/nonconsensual during the time is unknown. Metas have talked about both cases. Personally I believe he didn’t, and was groomed prior to the relationship becoming fully sexual)

Laurent became known as “frigid” in the Kingdom for his active showing dislike of sex (at least having sexual relations himself).

Spent months accepting he loved Damianos

Still suffered from the trauma of his sexual abuse (“Yes, Uncle,” automatically getting on his hands and knees to have sex with Damen in PG, dissociating as if it was common practice when he was almost raped in PG, being shocked when Damen wanted to kiss Laurent even after Damen had finished in his mouth, etc)

Laurent is described by Damen in Summer Palace that he “kissed Damen like he never wanted to kiss anybody else”

Damen:

Owned slaves/ viewed slaves as property

Was known to be a big slut (no slut-shaming LOL this has a point)

Laurent being the only person he has ever had an emotional connection to (“It’s…it’s never like this”).

In book one actively treated/spoke to Erasmus as if Erasmus was lower rank. Attempted to protect him yes, but not to no longer be a slave, but to give him/sell him to better masters.

Laurent is an extremely sensitive and vulnerable character who, due to his prolonged abuse, has extreme difficulty with all kinds of relationships. Damen works well with Laurent because he doesn’t take shit from Laurent, even when he was a slave, and never used his size as a tactic to scare Laurent. They are equal rank, therefore they see each other  mentally as equals. There’s lots of wonderful meta’s on Damen and Laurent’s relationship so i’ll stop there.

Now why is Damen/Laurent okay but not Erasmus? Well, first of all Damen and Laurent are exact equal rank; Prince and Prince, then King and King. “but Damen was a slave too, just like Erasmus!” It’s canon that Damen never once saw himself as a slave, and laurent admitted to knowing that Damen was never truly a slave. If Damen had wanted to, he could have killed Laurent/been free. Every abusive thing laurent did was a tactic of revenge for Damen killing Auguste. If he hadn’t known it was Prince Damianos, Laurent would have let Damen go.  Secondly, Damen was not trained like Erasmus. Damen was brought up as a child that he was the prince. He is higher rank. He is boss and in charge. Damen knew this, thrived off it when he was laurent’s “slave.” Every time laurent asked him to do something he did it, but the back of his mind always said “this is survival. You are not a slave. When you are free (notice it’s ‘when’ and not ‘if’) you will have your own revenge.” This is a strong mind that was built into Damen’s brain. In fact, he had more of a confidence/control rank over Laurent because Laurent was constantly scared and saw himself as second-best (mostly not even best, just second choice).

Circling back to the beginning, Erasmus was raised as a slave. There is no “when you’re free” or “This is survival, you’ll be free soon and you’ll be a king.” No!! Erasmus’ thought process was “Don’t scream no matter how much it hurts because your masters don’t want you to scream.” Damen had to protect Erasmus because Damen knew what protecting was. Erasmus didn’t. Whatever his masters wanted he did. Even if he felt they were being abusive his only true worry was that he didn’t understand what he was doing wrong.

Damen knew the abuse was wrong and was waiting for the opportunity to be free again and take his rightful place as king. Erasmus didn’t understand what he was doing wrong to prompt the abuse. That’s the difference of their minds and how different they’ve been conditioned to think.

Laurent actively hates slavery through every book. There’s lots of great metas about how it’s because he understands what it’s like to be forced into doing things (specifically sexually), and how much of a mindfuck it is to be conditioned to think a certain (abusive)  way.

So far part II: Damen would never see himself as equal rank with Erasmus because he never once saw himself as a slave. Erasmus would always feel beneath Damen and Laurent. One, because he will always see himself as a lower rank, being trained as a slave/to think of himself as property since he was a child, and second because he was specifically trained for several years to bend completely to whatever Damianos desired. Laurent would feel uncomfortable being in a relationship with someone outside of Damen because of his past abuse. Damen would never be able to have an emotional connection with Erasmus because the only person he’s experienced that with is Laurent, who is the same rank as him, and it took three fucking books for them to gain such an intense emotional connection.

He [Erasmus] was specifically trained for several years to bend completely to whatever Damianos desired. There’s obviously a lot to go off of from this, but Erasmus will never be able to be “reconditioned” by royalty, specifically Damen, because no one will ever know if he is able to think like a free man, or if he is still only doing what his “masters” are telling him to do. (Basically, imagine you do a love spell: Do they love you because they truly love you? Or do they love you because of the spell? That’s what Erasmus’ “teaching” would be like.)

Let’s really think about this: There is nothing different between Torveld being in a relationship with Erasmus, and Damen being in a Relationship with Erasmus. It’s not good. It’ll never be equal, and Erasmus will always see himself as a lower rank. Even if he is taught not to see himself as lower.

Even if he is not taught to see himself as lower. Slavery may be gone, but even the most close in rank and best friend of Damen, Nikandros, still spoke to Damen starting his words off with “exalted”. Erasmus would say that and be reminded of his lower rank. Maybe it’s nice to think “aw but Damen would never make him say it” jkdsnfskdjc If Damen has Nik do it you b e t Erasmus would have to do it.

I’m not saying Damen/Laurent can’t be nice to Erasmus. But a relationship? No no.

But  "Erasmus could learn how to not think like a slave by hanging out with the very person who he was trained for"

See: ‘love spell’ example

Reconditioning someone’s brain can take years and constant work at it. Damen and Laurent are Kings. They don’t have time to do that. Especially when they have their own personal issues they’re still dealing with (Laurent’s past, Damen’s time as a Slave, probs other shit too). They need to focus on each other and themselves.

And this is saying that Laurent/Damen is okay with having a third person in their very special relationship:

Erasmus would act like a slave →  Laurent would feel uncomfortable → Damen wouldn’t notice immediately because of how he was raised →  Laurent would probably get upset with damen for not noticing → arguing → Erasmus becoming upset for ‘causing problems’

But LMAO: Damen was jealous/worried about Laurent hanging out alone with women in Adventures of Charls. Even with their relationship so loving and stable, and Laurent being explicitly not interested in women, Damen was still jealous. Not to mention, Laurent doesn’t seem to get jealous, but he does get insecure. Damen treating someone else the same as Laurent would probably make Laurent feel unimportant or second-choice.  

And Torveld too!! NO! That’s literally a relationship that could never be truly equal and healthy! Because he bought Erasmus as a slave. Like yeah thanks Torveld for having basic human decency and not abusing human beings just because they’re slaves but, you’re not really reaching very far! Sksgksjdskbf Like Laurent sent Erasmus to Torveld because it was the best option at the time. Not because he felt Erasmus would be freed/experience freedom. He is still a slave forced to have sex with a master (because as a slave he legally can’t say no).

I’m usually a very open and accepting person when it comes to fandom stuff. But other things just make me uncomfortable. And this is one of those things. I’ll be honest and say I ship Kallias and Erasmus hard af. I love them together. They’ve been through extremely similar experiences (born and raised as slaves). They’re best friends and love each other in every way. They’ve got that agonizing tragic ache of forbidden love which I am a sucker for. They’re the same age and rank. Kallias seems more able to jump into freedom, but he can also gentle help Erasmus understand the world. Kallias has been the only person to help Erasmus admit to wanting to see the world. Kallias could travel the world, any time with Erasmus, and they would both be so mesmerized by traveling, and there wouldn’t be “we have to stay at the palace” etc. it would be their own decisions based off what they, as free men, would want to do. Two people, who have been in love for years, finally being together as free men and traveling the world. How is that not the most romantic (and healthy) thing?!

My argument isn’t diminished because I ship them. Honestly, I’m fine with Erasmus with Kallias, or Isander, or some random guy he could meet while traveling the world, or even just being by himself and enjoying his freedom. I’m fine with any of that because it’s equal ranking and there won’t be any foul play. But being with Torveld or Damen/Laurent? Nah, it’s too ooc and unhealthy. That’s just how I feel.

[awarisbrewinghq]

AGE: thrity-five/1000+ ORIGIN: scotland SPECIES: original hybrid SEXUALITY: heterosexual PRONOUNS: he/him

notice: alasdair erikson is a council member for the hybrid faction. 

past 

Technically, Alasdair is the oldest Erikson, if you ignore the fact that he wasn’t Erik’s son. Long before anyone knew what was happening, his mother had an affair with a werewolf and she kept it quiet. It a relief for her to see that her first born shared traits with both herself and her husband. She would keep this deception until her death, she decided. His mother was a loving woman, even if her love was misguided sometimes. For the most part, Alasdair had good memories of her.

His supposed father, on the other hand, was a different story. Maybe he unconsciously knew of his wife’s lies, but he was exceptionally hard on Alasdair. He was a strict man who seemed to disagree with almost everything he did. While most people would be either encouraged to do better or discouraged and fearful because of a man like his father, Alasdair chose to do neither. As a boy and even as a man, Alasdair did whatever he liked because he didn’t agree with his father’s viewpoint and because his temper kept him from understanding the man. He also didn’t care about being a role model to his siblings. He knew that despite his indiscretions, he could count on someone to still care for him, and sometimes that was his mother.

Rarely the man his father could depend on, Alasdair didn’t find himself a wife while he was mortal, but he did stay around to help care for the family. As Alasdair would put it, his siblings were all right and he adored his sisters. He doted on them, but his love for his younger sisters and his adventurous streak lead to his biggest regret. One night, he found the courage to see a wolf shift from human form and his sisters decided to accompany him. It was amazing up until the point a rogue wolf killed the youngest Erikson. In a fit of rage, he took his sword and killed the beast, but that was when it was revealed that he, too, was a wolf.

The story afterward goes that his father lashed out at him because he represented his mother’s sins. The topic of who and what he was wasn’t taken kindly and Alasdair would have gladly taken the punishment if his father hadn’t become a danger to the rest of the family. But his mother was quicker to act. The witch did the unthinkable and created monsters out of her children to protect them from a monster. The change wasn’t easy, but Alasdair embraced what he was quickly. Becoming a hybrid meant that he was more powerful than the man who had abused him and it also gave him an excuse to do all that he wanted.

Of course, he played the role of a monster and an abomination well, leaving ruin in his wake. It would be simple to just blame it on his newfound hunger and viciousness, but deep down he knew that he felt betrayed by a lot of his family and hurt by the loss of his sister. One could say that he never recovered, because throughout the centuries, he continued to pursue the thrill of kills and the exhilaration of fights. Whether he disrupted peace time or offered his own contributions to war, if someone looked hard enough they’d find his face. He was a troublemaker because peace was too mundane.

present 

Alasdair, like most of his siblings, has done a lot in his life, and while he’s had a blast for the most part, he knows when he needs to take a break. Because he had been gone from New Orleans for too long, he decided that he would come back and visit. He figured that it would be fun, but not too stressful. It would also be good to see his old friends and maybe grow his ‘pack.’ Currently, Alasdair has chosen to live away from the Eriksons’ estate and is up to no good in the New Orleans underground; with the help of a local crime boss, he runs an illegal fight club.

personality 

The original hybrid lives up to what he is and that’s because he knows he can physically overpower any being in the world. His confidence leaks into his action as pride and he’s known to act immediately on his own ideas. Alasdair doesn’t mind being barbarous or rough when it comes to acting on his selfish desires. Despite being in this world for himself, he is a good humored and playful type of guy who is dedicated to looking for the fun in life. He’ll drag others into it, too, when he feels that they need it. Even though he portrays himself as a tough guy, though, he’s quite sensitive when it comes to matters relating to his family. It still bothers him that they’ve lost a sister and when it comes to them, he finds it difficult to keep his cool

connections 

FREYJA ERIKSON, Even before they all turned into monsters, Alasdair has felt close to her. He felt even closer after they both witnessed their youngest sister be slain by the rogue wolf. Of all his siblings, he has the hardest time arguing with her and saying no. Most of the time she ends up getting what she wants and that’s because he wants her to be happy.

DAVYN HELLSTORM, He met Davyn when the guy was still new at being a vampire, and Alasdair gave him a hard time because he was only a vampire. But still, Davyn put up with him. They became the friends who managed to fight along side each other through many wars. Even though they weren’t real brothers, Alasdair feels like Davyn is exactly the type of man he’d like to have as one.

LUNA LYKAIOS, The friendship that they have involves a lot of pushing a pulling with Luna doing most of the pushing. Even though she acts like he’s a pest and doesn’t like him, he knows that she’s a liar and that he’s amazing. Alasdair used to be in the same pack as her. When they met, he pretended like he wasn’t the original hybrid and just another normal immortal wolf, but the truth eventually came out.

alasdair is portrayed by JOSEPH MORGAN and his face claim is NON-NEGOTIABLE. he is currently TAKEN.

[verdantlyviolet]

Okay, here's what I can piece together on Zeus and the Kokkyx (Cuckoo). This is going to be a mess of copy-pasted material.

According to Birds in the Ancient World by W Geoffrey Arnott, the two species of cuckoo in ancient Greece were the Common Cuckoo (cuculus canorus) and the Great Spotted Cuckoo (clamator glandarius) but asserts that most references would be of the Common Cuckoo. Makes sense since this is the mostly widely spread and studied species. I can't link either species, or the other species of birds' nests they prefer to lay their eggs in, to Arkadia directly. Both species cover a lot of the Mediterranean.

Apostolos N Athanassakis’ translation of Hesiod Works and Days 485-590:

But here is some consolation for the man who plows late; when the cuckoo’s song is first heard among the oak leaves to the delight of mortals throughout the wide earth, then may Zeus send rain three days later, just enough to fill an ox’s hoofprint. This way the late plower will be a match for him who plows early.

… and his commentary:

The song of the cuckoo heralds the advent of spring, and for this reason this bird is greatly loved by the Greeks and figures prominently in their folk songs. The expression “We will not hear the cuckoo this year” is equivalent to “We will not survive the winter this year.” In folk songs, the expression “the cuckoo will not sing this year” means that the year will be a year of sorrow and mourning.

I'm tempted to then relate this mention of the cuckoo and oak leaves to Pausanias' description of the ritual to bring rain to Arkadia:

[...] from Hagno a spring on Mount Lykaios, which like the Danube flows with an equal volume of water in winter just as in the season of summer. Should a drought persist for a long time, and the seeds in the earth and the trees wither, then the priest of Zeus Lykaios, after praying towards the water and making the usual sacrifices, lowers an oak branch to the surface of the spring, not letting it sink deep. When the water has been stirred up there rises a vapor, like mist; after a time the mist becomes cloud, gathers to itself other clouds, and makes rain fall on the land of the Arkadians.

To expound on the cuckoo in the oak tree further, here is a screenshot taken from pg98 of Nine Essays on Homer:

And from pg105 of the same work:

In Ibycus' fragment penelopes and halycons are represented as sitting 'on the topmost leaves', literally 'petals', a topos about the nightingale, who sings 'sitting in the dense leaves (petals) of the trees' in the Odyssey (19.520). This might seem unremarkable, since many birds sit in trees, but in fact only particular creatures sit 'in the petals.' In the whole of Greek poetry outside of the Ibycus fragment, this expression is applied only to the nightingale, the swallow, the sparrow, the cuckoo, and the cicada, and only about the nightingale is it used repeatedly. In every case, the image is that of a small and fragile creature, whose delicacy is matched by the delicacy of petals in which it hides. And without exception, the creatures that sit 'in the petals' sing in a voice that is like the nightingale's in its mournful tone.

With the below note to add:

The only bird noticeably larger than a nightingale or a sparrow who is said to sit in the petals is the cuckoo in Works and Days, and it is interesting that only here is the expression qualified 'in oak leaves': a larger bird calls for sturdier 'petals.' Note also that the cuckoo is also a bird with a remarkable voice, sometimes seen as a voice of lament in the Greek poetic tradition.

While I personally prefer the idea of the cuckoo being a bird of spring, a bird of mourning singing laments at the site of a possible human sacrifice seems appropriate.

On Zeus' transformation into a cuckoo, Pausanias says:

A mountain [near Halike in Argos], called in old days Thornax; but they say that the name was changed because, according to legend, it was here that the transformation of Zeus into a cuckoo took place. Even to the present day there are sanctuaries on the tops of the mountains : on Mount Kokkux (Cuckoo) one of Zeus, on Pron one of Hera.

And the scholiast to Theocritus explains this further, which gives a much better description linking Zeus, the cuckoo, and rain brought to the summit of a mountain (though, obviously in Hermione of Argolis and not Arkadia). Here also is our pathetic description of the bird as per its delicate nature mentioned above:

He [Aristocles] reports that Zeus wishes to copulate (μιγῆναι) with Hera from the time he saw her alone, apart from the other gods. Wanting to be invisible so that he was not seen by her, he changed himself into a cuckoo and perched on the mountain which then was called Thornax, but now is called Kokkyx (Cuckoo), and that very day he caused a terrible storm to break out. Walking by herself, Hera arrived at the mountain and sat down there, where today is located the sanctuary of Hera Teleia (ὅπου νῦν ἐστιν ἱερὸν Ἥρας τελείας). She saw the cuckoo flitting about, and it perched on her lap, trembling and frozen by the storm. Looking at it, Hera pitied it and took it under her mantle. Zeus suddenly changed his form again and grasped Hera. When she refused to copulate with him because of her mother, the god promised to make her his wife. Among the Argives, who honour this goddess more than any others of the Greeks, there is in a temple a statue of Hera seated on a throne, holding in her hand a sceptre on which is perched a cuckoo.

Random extra reference about the cuckoo being the first bird announcing spring’s arrival:

Dionysius On birds 1.13 πρῶτος τῶν λοιπῶν πτηνῶν ἡμῖν τὸ ἔαρ ἀγγέλλων (cited in Thompson, p. 152). 

Google translates this to first of all the other birds to us the number of angels.

Mt. Lykaion Excavation and Survey Project, Part 1 mentions a theory of shepherds moving their flocks up the mountain for summer and down again closer to the sea for winter. This could have been heralded by the cuckoo's cry, right? It follows the migratory nature of the cuckoo anyhow. I didn't bother reading Part 2 since it was for the lower sanctuary.

I have to be honest. Based on the excavation records I've read so far, your smol birb is probably an eagle. But I feel quite attached to this little birdy after reading all the excavation notes from 1904 and 2004-10. Why are they so critical of it though? "Crudely made and insignificant" I have some words to say about that misters paper-writers! But I could not for the life of me find a single photo of this bird, and all descriptions were equally lacking. Only that it was (apparently poorly) bird shaped.

Anyway. Cuckoo. Rain. Spring. Mountains. Zeus. Arkadia? I can't link it exactly but I feel there's plenty enough to associate the cuckoo with Zeus Lykaios.

I have a few things to do today, plus it’s 430am, but I am now determined to prove that the cuckoo, the herald of rain, is absolutely @seaofwine ‘s smol birb in Arkadia.

Or at least a solid argument why it should be. Watch this space.