#deucalion family

[analikestodream]

Christimas Eve at the Hotel Deucalion.

Colored pencil and pen on paper.

30/09/23

I found this drawing today and remembered I had never post it here lol

[godsofhumanity]

Deucalion: Do you have a superpower? Epimetheus: Yep! It’s hindsight. Deucalion: …that’s not going to help us. Epimetheus: Yes, I see that now.

[loganwritesprobably]

Can I interest anyone

In the beginnings of my plans for a Teen Wolf Rewrite?

S1 all the way to the movie

[nonesingsowildlywell]

here are my If The Swifts Were Jewish Headcanons! mostly pesach ones because I am excited!

1. Baby Dave sings ma nishtanah (the four questions) every year, when she was born Hawthorne was sad that she would be taking over so sometimes they do it together

2. Homer prepares for the seder by thinking of sarcastic comments and the best ways to tease everyone, but he also has a really good dvar torah planned

3. Helena can’t always make it in (because of extreme weather events), so Cat and Dave send her a package way in advance with a mini seder plate and matzah and messages from the whole family

4. Hawthorne really really really likes those fruit slice candy things, they’re all he eats on Pesach

5. Morrigan is invited over for a seder one year, and after she gets the gist of what’s going on, she recreates barad (the hail plague) with inferno and an ice cube. everyone is very impressed.

6. Cat has at least three ugly pesach sweaters

7. Every year there is a huge argument over who is the wise son, the wicked son, the simple son, and the son who does not know how to ask. But they all fall asleep before they can decide who’s who

8. Hawthorne finds the afikomen, but only because Helena is away

9. Dearborn is SO MAD that Hawthorne has to miss classes, but Miss Cheery and murgatroyd manage to convince her not to shave his eyebrows off

and! bonus Deucalion headcanon!

10. The smoking parlor produces matzah ball soup smoke, spring flowers smoke, and saltwater smoke. horseradish smoke and vacuum cleaner smoke were briefly produced, but were not fan favorites

[spookyblazecoffee]

Theo: *on the phone* Just snap his kneecaps and he’ll talk, I’m at a parent teacher conference. Theo: Anyways, you said Camden is enjoying finger painting! That's great. The teacher: He is, and Isla is... intense, I’m guessing she gets that from you. Theo: No, she actually gets it from my husband, why do you think she gets it from me? The teacher: N-no reason. Theo: Okay. Goodbye. The teacher: Goodbye sir.

[nerdherderette]

The Inheritance

Derek Hale, the Viscount Hemming and only son of the Third Earl of Beacon, was London's most notorious rake. His disinclination to appear with the same partner at social events was well-known; his discountenance to wed, even more so. Which is why no one was more surprised than Stiles when the dashing viscount—and Stiles' once childhood friend—presented him with a proposal he couldn't refuse.

[excerpt]: "Is Graceview Hall your only responsibility? What about love? Your family?" Derek jerked back in shock. She, of all people, knew what happened when he last fell in love. "You are four and twenty," Lady Belmont continued. "You cannot remain on your current path, carousing and bedding anyone who catches your eye. Why, even Lord Deucalion wed this past summer, and he was a reprobate of the first order." Derek may have owed his great-aunt what little remained of his dignity. This, however, was asking too much. "I will never enter the marriage mart," he swore.

For the amazing (and incredibly patient) @elisela, who challenged me with several things:

1. To write a historical romance

2. Make it a Sterek arranged marriage

3. Sprinkle in a bit of Marrish

4. And make it Friends-to-Lovers

I cut my teeth on Harlequin romances and this is an utterly self-indulgent homage to the genre. While it took me several outlines (and as many discarded drafts) to figure out how to make a friends-to-lovers scenario work, I finally came up with a story I'm excited to share! Thank you, elisela, for generously donating to FTH and for giving me something so amazing to work with!😘

Part of @fandomtrumpshate 2023. Posting on AO3

Please note: The image used to create the book cover is based on an AI generated image that was subsequently manipulated and then edited to make the cover. It's described in the tags but may be missed, and I don't want people to mistakenly reblog who didn't see the tags and who don't want any AI on their blogs

[evermore-grimoire]

The Evermore Grimoire: Astrology

Aquarius (January 20th - February 18th) is the eleventh astrological sign and is equatorial constellation of the zodiac, between Capricornus and Pisces. In Greek mythology, Aquarius is sometimes associated with Deucalion, the son of Prometheus who built a ship with his wife Pyrrha to survive an imminent flood. They sailed for nine days before washing ashore on Mount Parnassus. Traits associated with Aquarius include being independent, enigmatical and unique. There is no one quite like an Aquarius, and because each is so incredibly individual, it can be tough to describe them as a group. They don't like labels, and may shy away from any adjective (even the good ones you might bestow upon them). Aquarians have deep passion, but they know jumping into something too quickly can cause more harm than good. They are often big-picture thinkers who can see connections in a way that eludes others. However Aquarians can sometimes seem as if they don't care about their individual relationships, or they are holding something else at a higher value. For example, an Aquarian may cancel at the last minute because a friend or family member is in need. It's not personal, nor it's not a bad thing. Regardless, they always believe in the innate goodness of people. An Aquarian will never doubt you, even when you doubt yourself. Their ability to see the best in all people, even if people don't see those qualities in themselves. Overall Aquarians just love to lift people up and lighten the mood in the process.

artwork by Yaroslava Apollonova

[teenwolf-meta]

If Scott could go back in time and not take the bite…would he?

Thank you for this ask! I'm sorry it took me so long to answer it, but I wanted to give it the attention it deserves. I love this question because it involves a bunch of questions and possibilities.

We know, for instance, that when Derek tells Scott there's a potential cure for the bite in season one, Scott's very interested, for pretty understandable reasons: there's a violent Alpha trying to make him murder his friends, a loose cannon of a werewolf stalking him, and his girlfriend's family is hunting him, and will kill him if they find out his secret. 

I have to think that Scott wonders what would have happened if Derek hadn't betrayed him and if the cure had worked. Jackson would never have become the kanima, Matt would never have gone on his killing spree. Erica and Boyd would be alive. With no Alpha in town, Gerard would have no reason to stick around. Victoria would never have tried to murder Scott. The Alpha pack would have had no reason to come. The Nemeton never would have been awakened, the nogitsune wouldn't have been freed, Allison wouldn't have been killed, the deadpool would never had been activated, and so on. 

Of course, things aren't always simple. Isaac might have remained in an abusive household, the Argent Code would have remained unchanged, the Alpha pack would still have been at large, Jennifer might still have come to town, and most immediately, Peter would have still been targeting Lydia to make his return. The escalation of the situation in Beacon Hills also resulted in meaningful victories; Gerard, Jennifer, Deucalion, various assassins, and the Dread Doctors were all stopped, just to name a few. Without Scott and the pack, Malia might have been killed by her father, or remained a coyote forever. Scott might never have met Kira, or Parrish, or become so close with Liam. 

I think Scott would be reluctant to mess with the timeline because he knows the consequences are difficult to anticipate, and usually big. You can see that attitude in things like his and Lydia's exhaustion in 6b, when they're trying to figure out what to do about the anuk-ite (6x11):

LYDIA: We opened a door to another world... and something came out with us. Now we need the Hellhound to stop it. MALIA: So we put it back. We've put things back before… Why are you two looking at each other like there's something you know that I don't know? SCOTT: [sighs] It might not be that simple. LYDIA: We saved Stiles. We brought everyone back, but that's not how it was supposed to happen. There's always a price to pay. SCOTT: We learned that from the Nemeton.

In the same vein, I definitely don't see Scott going back to the night of the pilot and choosing not to sneak out. If Peter hadn't bitten Scott, he would have bitten someone else; he was looking for a minion to help him kill and make himself more powerful. Scott wouldn't want to condemn anyone else to that. Scott is also extraordinarily talented at refusing to break; someone else probably wouldn't have been able to resist Peter's thrall. Things could have been so much worse if Peter had bitten someone else that night.

The last question I think your question gets at, anon, is whether Scott ever becomes comfortable with being a werewolf, since that discomfort would be part of why he'd want to undo the bite in the first place.

This anxiety is misrepresented by hateful or misinformed parts of fandom as Scott not understanding what it is to be a werewolf, or they claim that he's resentful of and dismissive of werewolves as a whole. So before I continue, I just want to stress that that's not what I'm saying, and that's just not true at all. Scott is, for instance, not against Isaac/Erica/Boyd being bit because he hates werewolves. He's worried about them being hurt, either by Derek or by hunters or other werewolves--which they all are. When he bites Liam, he's quick to assure him that's he's "not a monster" (4x04), even as he laments the pain and danger he's brought on Liam's head, and while he worries that he himself is becoming "more of a monster" (4x08).

Scott isn't negative about being a werewolf per se. From the beginning, there are moments of excitement and happiness that Scott experiences from being a werewolf, starting in season 1 and really picking up, I think, in the first episode of season 2, when Scott excitedly races through the woods and leaps over the ravine on his way to see Allison. Yeah, maybe he only has to sneak around because he's a werewolf in the first place, but I'd argue that we see Scott clearly enjoying being a werewolf for its own sake in that moment. Scott even seems cautiously optimistic about his future as he comforts a grieving Allison: "Everything's gonna be okay. We're gonna find Lydia, and it's all gonna be good. Just think about it: no Peter, no psycho werewolf killings... Your dad and me... Well, that's a work in progress" (2x01).

But, of course, the fragile peace doesn't last. Over and over, we see every aspect of Scott's life—his loved ones, his family, his future—threatened or damaged or destroyed because of the fact that he's a werewolf. Scott himself is stabbed, shot, poisoned, electrocuted and otherwise tortured, when he's not hurting himself. Scott is also hyper aware of his increased capacity to hurt people as a werewolf; it's literally his worst nightmare (4x08).

Unsurprisingly, Scott becomes suicidal. The show handles it most directly in 3x05 and 3x06, but it isn't really resolved, and by the time Scott is murdered, Posey has said Scott was "ready to die." After he's resurrected, Scott's self-esteem doesn't seem to have improved much: he throws himself into constant danger, and is ready to square off with even the Beast of Gévaudan, even knowing how hopeless it is. After his friends show up to help him, Braeden asks if he seriously thought he had a chance against the Beast.

"No," Scott replies glibly (5x18).

By 6a, it's treated as almost a background element. When Scott squares off with Douglas alone in the woods, Douglas sneers, "I don't know whether it's stupidity or suicide."

In response, Scott shrugs. "Maybe both" (6x10).

I confess this lack of resolution has always frustrated me. I appreciate that the finale emphasized Scott's thriving friendships and relationships, and there's been some excellent meta done about Scott and self-harm in the finale, but it also felt like a bit of a bleak choice to have the finale show Scott engaging in dramatic self-harm, and leave him embroiled in a seemingly endless war.

Which is why I really appreciated that the movie showed a Scott who seems to have found a balance between pursuing his dreams and helping those in need, in a way that makes the most of the fact that he's a werewolf. Most significantly, for the purpose of this ask, I loved that when the nogitsune mockingly asks, "Tell me, Scott McCall, what is the sound of a wolf who is ready to die?"

Scott can finally answer, "I'd tell you, but I'm not ready to die."

[lycoperdales]

People that think Scott would ever abandon Stiles because of what happened in season 5 or season 3b make me cackle. Scott??? Turn away from a possible murderer?????? Let me just give you his track record.

- Peter Hale: Tried to make Scott kill all of his friend by forcing him to shift against his will, wake up in the middle of the forest with no recollection all while Scott was trying to understand what werewolf even was. = Amicable relationship, never forced him to part from his nephew, only ever truly fought him when he wanted to hurt others.

-Jackson: All round asshole, killed people in his sleep, literally bullied Scott and threatened to ‘out’ him to a family of werewolf hunters. = More than amicable relationship, Scott defended Jackson more than once and was the one of the only people that fought to save him.

-Gerard: do I even need to say anything.= Found a way to subdue him without killing him (#chemist Scott), didn’t harbour any bad feelings towards Chris when he healed his father in season 6

-Chris Argent: Shot him in the fucking arm for no reason, threatened to blow his brains out for being together with his daughter= literal besties

-Victoria Argent: tried to suffocate him to death= didn’t say anything to ANYONE because he didn’t want to tarnish her memory

-Deucalion: calls himself “The Demon Wolf”= besties, Scott’s trust in his goodness turned him into a pacifist and an ally on multiple occasions.

-Theo: isolated him from his pack before killing him= Didn’t completely freak out on Liam for reviving him even though Theo killed him less than six months ago. One can argue that he would’ve totally housed Theo if he knew Theo was homeless

Y’all think he would kick Stiles out for supposedly bashing one dudes brains out with a wrench??? One pesky murder??????

Scott is the walking personification of “but mother I can fix him”, he was overwhelmed at the moment with a bunch of teenagers dying and Malia wanting to kill her mum and Kira wanting to fight everyone and now Stiles supposedly killed someone. His reaction was understandable and he handled it like a champ I’d say. But he would NEVER EVER abandon his brother, murder and miscommunication be damned.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ Show Me How ❞

Deucalion x werewolf!male!reader | nsfw, smut, the beginnings are a bit more horror-themed (body horror for r! turning into a werewolf) | sub. bttm. reader (AMAB) | wc: 6k | not proofread

warnings: r! gets a panic attack, short description of vomiting, piquerism, handjobs, impact play, s*xual rewards, s*xual punishments, degradation, overstimulation, edging

req: Just hear me out on Deucalion the man's a whole dilf like cmon okay okay like y/n (amab pls) is a new werewolf like he just recently got bitten, and he was a complete dumbass, like he was freaked out the whole time n Deucalion ended up finding him in some random cave covered in blood (not his own though) he decided to help him out with learning how to control things and stuff being all strict and stuff, Deucalion would give him like rewards when he does things right, like maybe a good hand job or something n when he would mess up he would like punish him like omg what if he hits him with his cane or sum or the little blade he has on the end of it oh and like a bit of degrading maybe or overstim or edging.

part 2

A freshly turned wolf was a beast not many could take down. Many hunters, from mighty families such as the Argents, had lost a barrage of their kin to these wild beasts.

Fuelled with the Moon’s anguish and shame; these ' puppies ' cut down any who dares assault their senses with their scent or heartbeat. That being said, Deucalion wasn't surprised when news of a group of hunters decimated by a newly turned wolf reached his ears. The hunters weren't even a worthy threat to him, he had half a mind to let Ennis deal with it with as much glee as he wished. He was, however, intrigued at the prowess and potential this rogue wolf showed. Kali's claws ticked against the cracked linoleum and dirt floor whilst Ennis' nose took a lungful of the scent of fear and desperation. "He was alone, completely alone," Ennis sounded impressed.

"These hunters were young, cocky," Kali retorts with no natural edge in her voice.

"It isn't much to marvel at". Deucalion huffs through his nose and taps his cane. He emerges from the shadows of the abandoned warehouse.

"Kali, don't be so critical, it's not every day you turn into a werewolf". He tilts his head as the metallic tang of blood further invades his nostrils.

Deucalion could taste the viscous liquid in his mouth.

"He took out 14 trained hunters. Young or not, it's not often a puppy so vicious is placed on our laps. There is potential," Deucalion's nose points to the still-hot-edged hole in the corrugated tin wall. Blood stained the razor edges with pieces of what used to be a sweater danced listlessly in the night breeze. "Let's give the poor boy our thanks," Deucalion says. Ennis grins with his bottom canine and pokes his upper lip. Kali makes her way out from the clawed-out hole-in-the-wall and towards the forest it frames. A growl rumbles in Ennis' throat but as quick as it came it was gone and he bounds towards the woods as well.

Deucalion wraps his hands around the top of his cane, shoulders adjusting themselves as he feels the bones in his face shift to make way for a more monstrous visage. That was of less importance, the way his neck thickens with muscles was what he had aimed for.

The beast of an alpha unhinges his jaw and throws his head back to release a bloodcurdling song and his generals turn it into a symphony of horror.

The wood creatures scurry. Those without wings find themselves burrowing into the ground or hiding in the hollows of trees. One, however, stayed frozen in his stone fortress.

With your arms wrapped tightly around your legs and your head between your knees, you stayed rigid despite the howling that reaches your pointed ears. Your mouth was agape and drool was dripping down but your fangs were uncomfortably piercing your upper lips every time you attempted to close them.

It was a pathetic sight but no one was here to see your shame except for that dead coyote that lay inches away from your feet and — Oh, god, you were going to throw up.

The sound continues to echo and you clasp your hands over your ears. Your claws dig into your scalp as you squeeze your eyes tightly. Somewhere inside of you, something thrashes violently at the rope you call self-restraint.

It’s compelled to follow the call. It knows there’s safety in numbers but it's so primal you feel as though it’s something akin to a caveman more than anything poetic.

A moronic impulse just to survive. To find more like you but that was just the blood lust talking to you, of that you were certain.

You were a danger to people. You could never rejoin society. You were a monster.

‘They deserved it,’ something growls into your ear. You swear you can feel its breath and the stench of gore and blood that burns your cheek. The claws dig deeper into your head as your heartbeat quickens.

‘They wanted to hurt us, kill us, we returned the favour’. You think you're ultimately losing it at this point. Perhaps in some feeble attempt to grasp this batshit insane scenario of you gaining some supernatural ability to kill 14 people — and a coyote — your brain has fragmented to cope.

Beads of red soak your hair and traverse the slopes and planes of your head to your neck. It further soaks your ripped sweater, and the weight of it makes your skin crawl. The tip of your curved claws floats just inches from your skull. Then, bile rises to your throat and your body swings forward in a tumultuous motion. Knees banging onto the floor and palms ripping open on the jagged earth; your mouth burns as lunch reintroduces itself.

Your chin was already soaked from saliva and hastily wiped away gore so, at this point, the coyote was looking better than you and it was mauled to death. The howling reaches your ears again. Your head hangs, eyes burning viciously as the beast within you digs its teeth into your shoulder. Its mouth fills with blood as it laughs. It's a sickening sound that muffles your hearing. It was far too proud to admit it's drowning in your blood as it cackled. A reflection of you, yes? That's Kali's initial thoughts when she finds you. Too lost in your own world to even notice her shadow as it casts over you. This was the "beast" that ripped apart those hunters? On his hands and knees with his own vomit inches away. She wasn't convinced. Then, a shadow consumes hers. She turns her shoulders away and her ruby eyes veil themselves as Deucalion passes her. Ennis is further away from the mouth of the cave, senses sharpening to ensure that they are uninterrupted. Deucalion's shoes come into your peripheral. Your eyes zero in on the scratches on the leather, the creases where he'd bend them. They smell worn but not old enough to indicate he was someone who took care of his things so meticulously. He wasn't careless or crass though he was no gentleman either. The tip of his cane is capped with red. The plastic itches your skin as it trails up the bulging veins of your neck. The sting of metal causes your nose to twitch but the man before you, his presence is so heavy your thighs give out.

A sense of mirth fills him as you settle on your calves, head so obediently balancing on his cane as if entranced by the sight of him. The truth is, it's his scent that makes your heart calm. His and the other two Alphas but mostly his. That hindbrain personality of yours wants nothing more than to show off your stomach.

It knows the safety these alphas can provide and the dangers if they choose to reject you. "Rough night?" He jests with no expectations of laughter. Deucalion's cane meets the ground and your head lolls forward. "I must say, you don’t look like someone who's capable of such carnage. A lot to, stomach in?”

Your brows furrow and you lick your lips for a moment to open your mouth but freeze as you realise your teeth are no longer so sharp it cuts your tongue or gums. Running your tongue over your teeth, however, elicits a more visceral disgust as you find bits of fur and blood so no answer comes from you.

The Alpha — how you know his title is a mystery to yourself — tilts his head in the direction of the coyote.

“Such brutality. Surely, it didn’t mean to offend you,” Kali fails to suppress the tugs of a smile. She’s quite an intimidating figure as she stands at the mouth of the cave with her red eyes and dark hair.

“. . .It. . .” Deucalion faces you, silent.

A gulp, a breath, then an answer from your dyed lips: “It growled. . .at me”.

There’s a beat of silence, the forest does not extend its courtesy to fill it with ambience. Deucalion breathes sharply through his nose, a huff of laughter that makes Kali’s unimpressed gaze turn indignant.

“It challenged you and you rose to the occasion.”

You would argue it was just scared of a monster trying to crawl into its cave but this man flashes his teeth in a smile and the words die in your throat.

“Deucalion,” Kali whispers urgently.

“He’s an Omega. A Rouge — He didn’t raise to any occasion,” Deucalion squares his shoulders and the way the black shirt hugs him calls for your attention.

His shoulders are broad, chest firm and studiously presented with his perfect posture. Everything about his torso seemed unjustly perfect and your fingers twitch to feel every curve and bulge of muscles he is clearly packing.

“He has potential. Any newly turned wolf can maul a coyote, perhaps a camper or two, but to successfully decimate an entire group of hunters? That takes more than luck, dearest Kali, that? That takes talent”.

Your breath hitches as the shoes within your peripheral crease. Deucalion’s crouching, you wonder if he has a short Achilles tendon but all thoughts fly out of your brain as he grabs a fistful of your hair.

He pulls and pulls until your neck and shoulders are arched, teeth-gritting and eyes stinging at the strength he is casually displaying.

“Some new blood will do wonders for our pack. I have plans for this”

He leans in and you hold your breath as his breath spreads over your throat. Something in his chest rumbles, the display is forced but he knows you would have just as easily obeyed if asked. This was an excuse to show you his prowess — and to touch you.

“. . .precious puppy".

It seemed a mystery to you. One moment you were kneeling at his feet in a cave and now you were watching him folding his jacket over the chair. It had been exactly 3 months since they found you and took you in as the only Beta of the pack. Deucalion whispers that he has a plan for you but Kali seems unconvinced at the entire plot. Though, as unwilling as she was, Kali trained you with Ennis without fail. "Deucalion's orders", Ennis answered after you had completed a particularly gruelling endurance test. You force your arms to wipe the sweat off your brow, stretching out your legs in front of you as Ennis tosses a towel your way. "But. . .what am I training for?" Kali rolls her eyes, her pin-straight hair impeccably swaying with every shake of her head. Seriously, she looked like she belonged in a shampoo commercial.

"A test. Deucalion will test you, he says. Don't ask why", Kali wonders about it herself. What happened to the ' All Alpha ' pack that Deucalion boasted about? Weakening the link now seemed unreasonable. There was nothing special about you, Kali's eyes convey those very words despite her mouth not once parting. Judging by Ennis' shrug when you gave him a questioning look, it seemed as though this was something even his generals of pain had no inkling of. That conversation was 2-days ago. Today, a random breezy Wednesday of all days, he had called for you into his office. His room was dark. Ennis' lessons about using your newfound heightened senses came in handy. The icy blues of your eyes dart here and there in an attempt to spot Deucalion. How strange, where could he hide? There was a desk across the door and a few shelving cabinets behind that. A few rugs and some office chairs where office chairs are usually found.

Seriously, a man of his stature should not be able to hide so well. A whizzing sound reaches your ears too late and then a sharp sting is felt on your leg. Hissing, you turn frantically to find the source. Your cut was already healing but the surprise of it left you more startled than you'd like to be. "Even with eyes, people can still be so blind", Deucalion's voice calls from behind you. Spinning, you try to put him in your sights but he's already moving into the darker shadows. "(Y/N), I expected better from you." He's observing the edge of his blade. The scent of you fills invades his senses and Deucalion turns his back towards you to gently place his cane atop his desk. "I . . . I need to work on it, I know", your words lack conviction. Like you're unsure of what you're saying. You are. Did it have to be so obvious though? Deucalion motions you forward with a curl of his finger. The sound of your footsteps pauses a few paces from him. So he turns and he can see the rush of blood to your face, the way your heart picks up its pace just fuels his ego and fills his cock. Even with his eyes, the world had never bared more to him than before.

He could no longer gaze at the light dancing on water, watch the sunset paint the skies with its final bow to the world or even gaze at anything people could consider beautiful. But he was stronger for it. A demon wolf like himself; what right did he have gazing at anything remotely beautiful?

Meanwhile, in your corner of the world, the sight of the low v-line cut of his shirt has you gulping thickly. The venom enhanced your biology, that was a given. Ennis tells you about your heightened senses along with your endurance, durability and all that. He even tells you about a wolf's metabolism. How gaining muscles comes easy to werewolves but surely, even without being born as a wolf, Deucalion would still be a goddamn underwear model. His strong arms brace themselves on the edge of the desk and his hips lean backwards. His shoulders raising causes the flesh of his tits to squeeze together. 'Oh Christ', you thought as you avert your eyes. They were right there, practically looking at you first! The jump of your heartbeat prods him to ask; "Is this the reason you struggle to learn your lessons, (Y/N)?"

He can taste your arousal on his tongue. It burns as his lips part into a toothy smile. It's far too charming. Once again, he'd make such a good underwear model it's quite frankly ridiculous.

"Do you what would've happened if my blade was coated with wolfsbane?" Your mouth opens but all that comes out are pathetic ' uhms ' and ' uhs '. Deucalion's smile sours and he pushes himself from the table to instead circle you. Despite his presence being very tangible right now, your stomach twists every time he slinks out of view. He's a true wolf; a hunter in every sense of the word.

Realistically, every footfall should make a noise despite the rug muffling it. Your sensitive ears should hear the gentle crush of fibres below his soles. Nothing. His gait is so eerily ghostlike your ears try to pick up on anything else. A shadow slips on your right and your eyes chase him but that was reprimanded with another stinging. Your yelp makes him reply with a condescending tutting noise. So incredibly British it would be comical if it wasn't so degrading and hot.

The sleeve of your shirt soaks up the blood that manages to thread out from the now-healed cut. "That's twice now you've been cut with wolfsbane", his voice echoes from everywhere and each time you turn to chase another cut forms on your body. It's humiliating. Painful. Tear-inducing. You were being punished like a bad dog. Pain dished out in tiny but venomous lashes that couldn't really hurt you but the aftershocks make your breath turn ragged.

"You killed 14 trained killers that were blooded into their families by the time they were 15 years old. You were enrolled in university" You scoff, twisting your neck and hissing as you were swiped at. The back of your shirt is decorated by the slices just like the back of your jeans and thighs and sides and neck. . .

"I dropped out", you should bite your tongue. Deucalion's dark chuckle earns shivers up your spine but no lashing. "You've the energy to be quip but can't answer a simple question every werewolf knows", your jaw clenches, "I'm new to this!" His cane makes contact with your thighs, the flexible metal meeting flesh and your hand moves faster than your brain can respond. The cane strains between your hand and Deucalion's, a wrench from you and suddenly he steps closer. It seemed as though you were intent on suffocating him with you. The carpet is stained with splatters of your blood and now, your claws dig into your palm as it holds his cane. Defiantly, you meet his gaze. Those pretty lashes that frame your eyes are now buried by your furrowed brows. He can tell your eyes are glowing. The grinding of your fangs as they tear through your gums makes him flash his teeth in a warning.

Those pillowy lips shield that brash display but you still hold your gaze. So defiant, annoyed, humiliated? Deucalion has killed far more talented werewolves for less disrespect. None have ever faced him so crassly. "Is this what they were greeted with?" Your silence lights a fire within him. Pathetic enough you don't even know what wolfsbane does to your kind, but now you dare halt his lessons to stare him down? "A silent killer. A puppy who massacred trained killers by himself left nothing but torn limbs and innards. Is that who is in front of me now? A monster, who doesn't even know what can kill him and what can't. Do you know what people call that?"

Deucalion pulls his cane free from your grasp and in a swift motion points the blade under your jaw. Gasping, your feet pace backwards but Deucalion simply marches forward. Tiny as the blade is, with an arm rippling with supernatural strength even a sharpened stick can be deadly. Perhaps you'd really crossed a line. Ennis and Kali had been ' nice ' to you out of obligation. Deucalion, so far, had simply watched from afar as you trained. You were still so human despite the weeks that have passed. Perhaps the pack hadn't been clear enough with the pecking order. That had to be fixed. If Deucalion's plans were to work, he'd need you to fully understand the gravity of your change.

The edge of his desk digs into your ass and you've half a mind to turn and crawl over it to put more distance. Something tells you turning your back on Deucalion was a death sentence. So you don't. You freeze as the tip of his blade digs into the underside of your chin. "An idiot. A moron. A beast that only functions on impulse. The only thing that separates us from common wolves is the fact that we're smart, eliminating that element means you're nothing more than a common bitch on the side of the streets". His hand slams next to you. You're so close to him that you can see his red eyes through the dark lenses that balance so studiously on his nose bridge. "My pack has no room for mindless, moronic, mutts", Deucalion twists the cane and the grimace on your face does little to soften the snarl that threatens to contort his visage. He can feel the way your flesh desperately tries to heal the wound. Trying to close around his knife and stop the stuttering stream of red that wets his fingers. His nostrils flare. All he can smell is you. On the carpet, on the microscopic canyons of his skin that flood with your crimson. God, the sweat that teases him as it slips down your chest has him feeling as though he is basking under the summer sun. His insides were burning and he retaliated by hitching the blade deeper into you. " Ah! " His knee forces your legs apart and jerks upwards. The feeble attempts at pushing it away are cut short as he forces your neck to stretch further and further away, back bowing and arching into him as your hands scramble to balance yourself. "This gets you hard?"

There was no way to hide. His knee digs into your crotch and you've no way to even muffle the noise that slips out. It's high and whiny, and the stretching of your neck does little to help. Deucalion scoffs at the lack of denial. "Unbelievable", he pretends to sound mad but Deucalion can barely fight back a grin. "Don't tell me the reason you fail to even answer a simple question is because Ennis and Kali don't rub your slutty cock enough?" He doesn't wait to hear a response. Deucalion simply places a hand on your waist and begins moving your hips. It's a bumpy ride and your hips move so mechanically it reminds you of embarrassingly grinding on a pillow to "practice" riding.

It makes you less heated and more reclusive. Deucalion doesn't give in to the resistance you give him and simply applies more strength to move those impressive hips on his leg. "Fuck", you wish the ground would swallow you whole. This was anything but sexy, actually, everything so far has NOT been sexy but fuck why was your dick filling up? Your transformation must have heightened your penchant for pain too because this is ridiculous. Is it because your fear has lessened? Now, a cut won't get infected or need to be tended to thanks to your supernatural healing. Even so, fear was still very much in the equation. Deucalion was one intimidating man and a frightening werewolf. Gazing up at the ceiling you stiffen your hips but Deucalion digs his nails into your skin and you gasp. "Shit!" Deucalion relishes the way your entire body seemed to jerk and twitch. He's especially keen on the way the tent in your jeans strains further.

"Poor puppy, all trapped in those constricting jeans". The breath of relief comes after your head limply hangs as your chin is finally free. Deucalion makes a show of placing his cane right next to you, right within reach if you dared to disrespect him again.

You let your gaze linger on it though something else calls for your attention and somehow, it's not the raging hard-on you have being grinded on. Deucalion's lips crash into yours, and the prickling sensation of his beard has you whimpering. With both hands on you he all but manhandles you down until you're laid on the desk. He bites down on your lower lip meanly, making you gasp and moan as he palms your crotch. "Fuck, fuck", you're more than confused but a part of you is so pleased with this turn of events. Not just because your throat wasn't ripped apart by Deucalion or the fact that you're getting action from a man worthy of being plastered on a Calvin Klein billboard. It's the scent of satisfaction that's coming off of him in waves. The barely there rumbling in his chest sounds like a purr. The big hands that move and puppeteer you. The body that eclipses the ceiling from you. Deucalion is your alpha. The strongest. The deadliest. Fuck, even a devoted priest would drop to their knees in your position. "Wolfsbane is poison", Deucalion might as well give this a go. Even a slut deserves a fair chance at education. Your eyes are fuzzy, barely there, but they sharpen into focus as he undoes your pants. There's no grace in the way he pulls your cock into the open. He grasps your length firmly, bordering on pain judging from your hiss.

"You do know what poison does to someone, yes?" You nod frantically. Those rigid hips suddenly began canting upwards, thrusting up into his fists as Deucalion bared his teeth to your throat. Instinctually, you moan and turn your head to the side. Submitting to your alpha with no verbal command. Seems as though you knew hierarchy after all. "Good boy", his voice dropped octaves and you're desperate in your need for release. There's something heavy in the air, burning delicious of bergamot and pine. Curls of wood shavings appear as your claws dig into the desk. "Aconit Napel Bleu Nordique, it's a favourite of hunters", Deucalion's voice silences the noises around you. He's effectively made so you only see, hear, smell and feel him. His thumb presses on your wet slit and you curse, unable to move as he continues to mottle your neck with his fangs. "Focus, you're obviously in need of extra help in the learning department, don't make me go back to before", your eyes split open and the cane next to you seems to mock you as it shimmers wetly with your blood. "Puh - poison, bad, mfh! Wolfs, wolfsbane", Deucalion would coo but you haven't deserved that just yet. "Tell me the name of it", your confusion is palpable. "Wolfsbane", he pulls away from you. His hands leave your cock twitching on your stomach as he sighs. "The scientific name, puppy. I just said it", he takes his shades off and neatly places it next to his cane. Fuck. You get on your elbows, reeling from the too much pleasure transitioning to not enough pleasure. He's patient as he adjusts his sleeves and spreads your legs. You mistake it as him simply being kind. Big mistake.

A claw traces the underside of your cock. "Name?" "Wuh - Wait! I -", he frowns. The claw is now just under the mushroom head and your heart triples in speed. "(Y/N)". "A - Accut - No, uhm, Accunit Napal Blue Nordic?"

God, Deucalion thinks. He better be glad he's as endearing as he is stupid.

He wraps his fingers around your dick and pumps nice and slow. The sagging of your body on his desk almost makes him feel pity. "Now I know you know the answer to this next question", dread fills you once again but Deucalion rub his palm across your tip and your toes curl. "I heard Kali teach you a lesson on it. The types of wolfsbane. You did wonderfully then and you'll do the same now". That lesson had been damn near 3 weeks ago! It wasn't like they provided lecture slides for you in this pack. You chew on the insides of your cheeks, chest heaving as you try to push the pleasure away to think. Fuck, how could think right now!? How the hell does Deucalion know how to give hand jobs this good!? He squeezes and you squeak at his reminder. "Purple", that was easy and so Deucalion simply loosens his grip. "Blue?" He cocks a brow. "Are you asking me or telling me, puppy?" You take a breath, " M'tellin".

Deucalion begins stroking you at a steady pace. Your precum wets his palm enough but he spits on your dick (with insane accuracy) and the sloppy sensation makes you groan in ecstasy. "Fuck, another one - Nghah! Fuck! Yellow!" "Gooood boy". Deucalion rewards you. His hand must've been crafted by some sort of sex god because the way he has you writhing and moaning is not normal. Deucalion says nothing, simply looking down at you as you let out wanton moans. He's suddenly struck with the want to see you in every detail. His vision is warped and bloodied. More like a tactile vision, beauty is no longer at the forefront. He thought he had accepted it. But now he wants to see it all. The fading bruise on your hips that is shaped like his hands. The hickeys on your neck, the bitemarks, the scratches — even if the only thing left is the shredded threads. He wonders how handsome you look with your face all screwed up in pleasure. Deucalion decides to distract his thoughts with your taste instead. He leans over you, claiming your lips and swallowing the sinful noises. When you cum, it's no surprise that you cum hard. You swear you saw nothing but white and separate from the kiss to call out for him. Deucalion continues jerking you off despite you cringing and attempting to twist away from him. "Uh-ah, you were so good, puppy. You should be rewarded for every correct answer, don't you think so?" "I - I need a second to breathe — !" "Nonsense, I can't possibly be that cruel to you, puppy".

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Last Chance Lost Fic - FOUND

Peter takes Stiles under his wing and protects him.a Steter fic. They go meet Deucalion at a gay club as a way to pass along the message that Derek wants to meet. It's definitely a series of fics. Stiles has contacts at the FBI who alert him when a convicted felon who targeted his family when he was little gets out of jail then skips out and makes his way to BH. The felon threatened his mother, and the sheriff put them in protective custody for a while. Stiles has to kill him, he also refuses to let the pack or Peter get involved. There's a police safehouse that they use as a meeting place between the alpha pack and the hale pack.

@iwannahibernate says its this one!

A Sliver of Sunlight by LeeBlack

(17/17 I 37,331 I Mature I Steter)

The last thing that Stiles expected to see after coming into his room was Peter Hale, back from the dead and apparently sane. Well, relatively sane, all things considered.

And with everything that had happened in Beacon Hills recently, was it really so impossible to believe that, without the Alpha power trip, Peter was the sort of person who couldn't be trusted but was too interesting to be ignored?

[loganwritesprobably]

Specific Teen Wolf niches that I am personally campaigning for more fics/art of:

Stiles crossed over with the Mikaelson family, in any capacity, from the vampire diaries/the originals

Stiles IS a Mikaelson

Spark Stiles with magical mother/grandmother who knew the Mikaelsons

Famous Hales know famous Mikaelsons (bonus points for Peter/Elijah (b)romance)

Mikaelsons are the big bad of the week but become fond of (insert pack member here)

Bonus points here for crossover ships and funny comments about Isaac getting along with Kol

Stiles/Claudia/Noah being somehow connected to the old Blackwood pack (Deucalion's pack, that's my favourite surname for him)

I enjoy Uncle Deucalion

On the Deucalion note - him being Derek's father like was originally planned by Jeff, with bonus points for not having Talia be evil, just a complex character

Jeff Davis is a coward for not committing to this and I love the different things you can do with Cora - same dad as Laura, also Deucalion's, different dad all together

Jennifer being actually redeemed cause she was done dirty considering the other characters that got redeemed during the show

Bonus points for her being a lesbian/having been in a relationship of some sort with Kali - defined or not

This is LESS niche than the others but - the Hale house getting rebuilt

I like the Hales, and them being able to see their new pack in a home something like their old one, and having space for old pack members to come stay

PLEASE add more of your own because I just need more stupid niches like these to enjoy - I may also add more as time goes on

[incorrectnevermoor]

HELLO

I’m here to bother you because I have a question >:D

What do you think happened to Jack’s parents?

There’s never been any mention of them really.

Istg if this has already been answered in the books and I’ve skipped over it 😭

HEY!

It hasn’t been mentioned!

This is actually a very good question, considering Jack’s school is a boarding school, so his usual residence would be the Graysmark School for Bright Young Men, but he does mention that he’s been living at the Deucalion for “the past few years”, so it’d be safe to assume that he straight up doesn’t have another home, or at least, that he doesn’t go there.

I think the most popular theory is that he’s an orphan, since there’s no real mention or name for his parents, but I’d like to propose an alternative that’s a tad bit angstier: due to his knack, which we know he dislikes, his parents sent him over to Jupiter, so that they wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Allow me to elaborate on this. When we first meet Jack, he immediately dislikes Morrigan, correct? He doesn’t know anything about her other than the fact that she’s now his uncle’s protégé. Why would that be? Sure, we could chalk it up to him being a kid, but he’s around 13 in Nevermoor, I think that’s a little older than the time kids just decide they don’t like someone. No, what if he felt that way out of fear? What if he felt like, after his parents shipped him off, the only family he had contact with was trying to replace him?

It’d make for him to avoid his knack like he does, too. If he got basically pawned off because of it, wouldn’t it make sense that he’d try to use it as little as possible, like with his eyepatch? Sure, Jupiter is also a witness, he could teach Jack how to move past the discomfort and time things out in a way that’s sustainable. But would Jack want to learn? If his knack was deemed too much work for even his parents, would he even want to try and master it?

Food for thought.

[harlstiel]

TELL ME WHY I'M ARGUING WITH A KATE-ARGENT-APOLOGIST ON TIKTOK RN-

The post was on of those "I am your father" "nuh uh" slideshows with Gerard and Chris and someone in the comments asked "Where’s Kate?" And as a joke, I said "dead, hopefully"

And they went on this long, illegible tangent about how Kate was loyal to Gerard, how they hope she survived after Season 6, that she was a good aunt, and HOW MUCH THEY LOVE HER...

Like, bestie, did we watch the same show? The one where Kate was proven to have sexually assaulted a teenage boy, burned his family alive, tortured him, etc...

And then, when it's revealed she didn't die in season 4, turns him BACK into a teenage boy, tries to turn Scott into a Berserker, and tries killing them all again.

And kidnaps Derek AGAIN IN SEASON 6.

Not to mention that, when it was all said and done, she and Gerard were going to kill each other in the finale anyway. That doesn't seem very loyal to me.

Like, I get liking certain villains like Theo and Deucalion because they were iconic and had development. I also get liking ones that were just plain evil and had no development like VOID because he was also iconic.

But Kate? No. Not iconic, and frankly, you shouldn't LIKE CHILD-MOLESTING ARSONISTS.

What is wrong with people?

[reveluving]

masterlist ; reve's quirky reverie (fall '23 special!)

about :

— come & venture into the darker, sinister or more erotic side of the blog with yours truly for this year's month of the spooky! 🕷

— randomly uploaded between oct & nov!

pick your poison :

the bump in the night ; rick flag x f!reader (ft. flag family)

a/n: tooth-rotting fluff, reverse comfort & humour [main]

top notes ; peter hale x f!reader x deucalion

a/n: blood kink (implied smut; minors DNI!), strong language & minor character death [main]

if the skirt fits ; andy barber x f!reader

a/n: costume kink (mild smut; minors DNI!), fluff & mild humour [main]

can't take my eyes off you ; clyde logan x f!reader

a/n: smut/implied smut(?), tooth-rotting fluff & humour

eight o'clock ; batfamily x batmom!reader

a/n: major character death, reverse comfort w/ a bittersweet ending [main]

all! are based on fics I have made in the past (except for clyde logan!), which can be found by clicking the [main]. canon or not to my series, that's up to you! and as usual, this masterlist is for 18+ only.

disclaimer! as someone who has never experienced fall nor celebrate Halloween, I heavily rely on research in my writing (i.e. shows/movies, books). still, I hope you can find enjoyment in my work!

˚ · . curious about past fics or any other characters I write for? come & check out my full m.list!

[winwin17]

Been thinking about symbolisms to represent Morrigan and Jupiter.

Jupiter can be represented by a compass. It symbolizes his adventurous nature and his involvement in the League of Explorers. It also stands for his strong moral compass. To Morrigan as his Wunsoc candidate and more or less his adopted daughter, he always points "true North" (pun not necessarily intended, but it's there). In other words, he is always reliable as someone who is faithful and will always try his very best to guide her in the right direction.

Morrigan, on the other hand, can be represented by an anchor. Before coming to Nevermoor, she undoubtedly felt temporary, just a passing shadow that will be gone and forgotten when her short lifespan is over. But after coming to Nevermoor, she begins to get a sense of permanence. She decides to make the Deucalion her home, and realizes that these people are her family. She gains a place in Unit 919, which promises her "brothers and sisters for life." And to Jupiter, as her patron and practically her adopted father, she anchors him to a sense of meaning and purpose. His wanderer's heart is anchored by the newfound responsibility and love Morrigan brings into his life. Never before has he been invested in something so meaningful, although for a time the League of Explorers was the most important thing to him. So now as Morrigan settles into a place of permanence and belonging for herself, she also anchors Jupiter to the most meaningful purpose he's ever had as well. It establishes a sense of stability previously unknown to either of them.

The symbolism: compass and anchor.

The strange little girl with the black eyes and her mad ginger patron.