#canis watches black sails

[sameteeth]

in s3ep2, eleanor tells mrs. hudson she doesnt come from privilege, which mrs. hudson immediately denies. but i think its SOOO telling of eleanor's character! she sees herself as a woman in a world full of men, which she is, but she completely ignores the class and racial divides she obviously benefits from. she claims she has no privilege to mrs. hudson, who comes from no money and works as a chambermaid to woodes rodgers, leaving behind her beloved children to make sure eleanor has clean clothes and to empty her chamberpot. eleanor had power on nassau, power she wielded for her own benefit and to the severe detriment of others. obviously she experienced misogyny, but she was never forced into poverty, never forced into sex work, never forced into service of any kind, because her father was wealthy and she was born into a higher class. her experiences of misogyny and oppression are vastly different than mrs. hudson's. but for her to tell a chambermaid she experienced no privilege? it's laughably untrue. eleanor oversaw and directly profitted from the trade of hundreds if not thousands of slaves on nassau, was raised by "chattel property of the guthrie estate" mr. scott, who is never even given a name in his own tongue (on screen, at least), never showed kindness to anyone but those who put money in her pocket because she was born with that money and that trade empire already in the guthrie name. she had to fight to get it, and fight she did, but the fact that those things were so close to her reach just by virtue of the circumstances of her birth? that's privilege, whether or not she sees it that way

[365days365movies]

Horror October IV: The Wolf Man (1941) - Recap: Part One

It’s a full moon on Tumblr tonight.

The full moon’s light has long been a subject of fascination for mankind. Gods and monsters alike fuel or depend upon the lunar cycle, according to mythologies across the globe. Why? The Sun is brighter, and moonlight is literally just sunlight regardless. Well, of all the questions I’ve ever asked on this blog, that may be the easiest to answer. The Moon, after all is a beacon in the darkness.

The light of a full moon brightens up the gloomy black night, and allows us to find our way through the perilous wilds. But we aren’t the only ones who depend upon its light to survive in the shadowy wood. After all, light only accentuates the shadows, and those shadows have bred a terrifying monster in folklore. For a great danger lurks amongst the trees. And on the winds, their ghostly howls sail nightly, spreading out over the landscape like a blanket of peril.

Wolves: one of man’s oldest rivals.

We have a complicated relationship with the wolf, especially the gray wolf (Canis lupus). Native to Eurasia and North America, much of our species’ early development was accompanied by the wolf. A social predator like ourselves, wolves were our chief competitors, and we were theirs. And, since ecology was our driving force back then, that led to intraspecific competition between man and wolf. Ever since, this wild canine has pervaded our cultural consciousness.

This was definitely helped by European folklore, amongst the most widespread folklore globally, and teeming with the danger of our forested opponents. In Norse mythology, the giant wolf Fenris will help to end the world. A boy learns not to lie in Aesop’s tales, when he is swallowed alive by a wolf. And the Brothers Grimm immortalize the Big Bad Wolf as arguably the greatest fairy tale villain, watching on with hungry, glowing eyes.

And yet, the power and light of the moon has birthed an even more foul and terrifying enemy. As we saw the wolf as nature’s most powerful warrior, some people took on the visage of wolves in battle. But folklore took this a step further, and asked a question: what if man and wolf became one being? 

The Ancient Greeks posed that question, as did those who came before and after them. This man-becomes-wolf story was often a punishment from the gods, or from nature itself. Christianity came into Europe, and blamed pagan belief and curses for inflicting this upon men. The source turned from manmade to natural, and the victims from warriors to the innocent. Now, under the light of a full moon, an innocent man could become a violent, hungry monster. 

And thus, the legend of the werewolf is born.

Werewolves, or lycanthropes, have multiple cultural sources, and their associated tropes are numerous. However, since 15th century witch trials in France, a few things have remained the same. Usually, they’re associated with magic (especially non-Christian and pagan sources; read a lot into that, honestly). A werewolf bites and bestows the curse upon someone, usually innocent (and usually male, weirdly), and they would “transform” under the light of a full moon. And of course, they’re injured by silver, which wasn't “figured out” until the 1800s.

I say “transform” in quotes up there because some people accused of being werewolves in real life were most likely either mentally ill, or (more likely) high as BALLS on a fungal rot called ergot. Basically, some guys ate forest acid and ran around on all fours, and werewolves exist now. That’s a gross oversimplification, but you get the general idea.

This wasn’t exactly made better by the fact that wolf attacks were fairly commonplace in Europe at the time. Legendarily, the Beast of Gévaudan killed about FIVE HUNDRED people from 1764-1767, and was thought by many to be a werewolf. To this day, we have NO IDEA what it actually was, but many historians believed that it was a wolf or population of wolves living in the area, although there are other possibilities as well.

In any case, the werewolf myth was alive and well, until eventually drifting its way into fiction and monster stories. And then, of course, the 20th century roles around, and the art of film comes to prominence. And while vampires and Frankenstein’s monster made it to film first, the werewolf got its day right after them, in a silent 1913 film called...well, The Werewolf.

While the film itself is now lost, more came soon after it, and the werewolf hit it kinda big with Universal’s 1935 film Werewolf in London. This movie was on the relative heels of Frankenstein and Dracula, but it honestly wasn’t very successful. It would take another 6 years for the werewolf to make bank at the box office. That would be with legendary character actor Lon Chaney, Jr. at the wheel as the titular monster, The Wolf Man.

And that, I think is a good place to start this movie!

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap: Part One

We begin in the same way your high school teacher told you not to start essays: with a dictionary definition. In this case, we define the term lycanthropy for the audience, and learn that sightings have been seen in a village near Talbot Castle. We then cut to Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney Jr.), being driven home to said Talbot Castle.

Larry meets his father, Sir. John Talbot (Claude Rains), as well as his old childhood friend Colonel Paul Montford (Ralph Bellamy). Apparently, Paul and Larry both have American accents, while Sir Talbot is British. I don’t know if this takes place in the UK or in the USA, but given that Paul is a constable, and they’re in a GODDAMN CASTLE...this is weird. Yeah, that about covers it.

Anyway, Larry is here after many years of being estranged from his father, who is...seven years older than him. The casting here is weirdly inconsistent. Anyway, Larry’s brother John has recently died in a hunting accident, bringing the prodigal son back home. He and his father reconcile, spending some time fixing a powerful telescope mounted in the castle. And, of course, Larry can’t resist using it to spy on a woman in the village below.

Said woman is Gwen Conliffe (Evelyn Ankers), our inevitable love-interest of the evening. He immediately goes there and IMMEDIATELY creeps her out by admitting that he’s been fucking spying on her. And because it’s the 1940s, it fucking WORKS one her somehow. What woman doesn’t love a peeping Tom, after all. She replies by showing him a few interesting canes, including a silver-topped cane with a wolf ornament. Foreshadowing, we meet again.

True to 1940s form, he asks her on a date. She refuses, twice. He says he’ll meet her at 8. Typical. Also, extremely problematic, but we have other things to deal with right now. Larry returns home, and speaks with his father about werewolves before heading back out to meet Gwen. She AGAIN tells him no, but he again ignores that. And somehow, this results in Gwen introducing him to her friend, Jenny Williams (Fay Helms), and he goes on a walk with BOTH of them. Goddamn it, 1941.

The three walk through the woods, on their way to meet a fortune teller in the forest, because that’s what you do on a Saturday night. They walk past a patch of wolfsbane, and Jenny repeats a rhyme about werewolves that Gwen had said earlier. 

Even a man who is pure in heart, And says his prayers by night, May become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms And the autumn moon is bright.

This is a werewolf-loving town, I guess. They drop Jenny off at the house of the fortune-teller, Bela (Bela Lugosi), who...huh. Apparently, Bela Lugosi’s in this movie! He reads her palm after the two have left, and finds...

Well, shit. That’s not great, probably. The fortune teller tells Jenny to get out of there, and a terrified Jenny runs into the woods, followed by the howling of wolves. The fortune teller’s acting strange, so Imma call it: he’s a werewolf. Meanwhile, Larry and Gwen are flirting by a tree, even though Gwen’s engaged, which Larry sees as a minor inconvenience, the douche. They’re interrupted by Jenny’s screams.

Larry finds her being attacked by a very good boy. Yeah, it’s supposed to be a wolf, but it’s clearly a dog looking for treats in Jenny’s pocket, and I love him. Larry wrestles with the wolf and kills him with his cane, but not before being bitten on the chest. So, yeah, it’s werewolf time for good old creepy Larry.

With the help of the fortune-teller’s wife, Maleva (Maria Ouspenskaya), Larry is bought back home. It’s revealed by Montford’s assistant Twiddle (Forrester Harvey) that Jenny is dead, killed by the wolf. Looks like the body of Bela is also dead from blows with a sharp instrument. Specifically, it’s the silver-handled cane that Larry used to beat the werewolf with. Foreshadowing...I see you there, hiding in the corner. You’re gonna have to come out soon.

The next morning, Larry is seen by Dr. Lloyd (Warren William), and appears to be entirely fine. They reveal that Bela was found dead, with your stick by the body. However, Larry is confused, as all he saw there was a...look, Bela’s the werewolf, OK. And now, it’s gonna be Larry. The bite wound from the wolf is gone, and everybody thinks he’s crazy as a result. But, again...werewolf. You’d think people in a werewolf crazy town would’ve figured that out by now.

Bela is buried, and Larry leaves in order to see the body of Bela. Maleva is there to say a non-Christian prayer over his body, which incenses the local priest. Larry watches on from the shadows, and waits until she leaves to see Bela’s body herself. He then heads to Gwen’s to pay his respects to her after what happened to her friend, only to see Jenny’s mother verbally assaulting her father, blaming Jenny and her indiscretions for causing the death of her daughter. Larry fends them off, and goes in to meet Gwen, as well as her fiancée, Frank Andrews (Patric Knowles).

After Frank’s dog incessantly barks at him, Larry leaves, and Frank warns Gwen to be careful around him, as he senses something tragic about him. That night, though, the couple heads to a carnival being held by a traveling group of Romani, and invites Larry to come along. After an interesting scene involving a shooting game with a fake wolf, which Larry is unable to shoot, he leaves and encounters Maleva behind the caravan.

That’s when Maleva lays it all out: Bela was a werewolf, now Larry’s a werewolf, only silver can stop werewolves forever, the pentagram is the sign of the werewolf, and she gives Larry a charm to protect him from his own curse. Damn; speedy exposition in 2 minutes.

Just then, word spreads through the camp, and the Romani pack up and take OFF. Larry, thinking he won’t need the charm, gives it to Jenny for her protection. He pauses by a tree and has a feverish series of visions, seemingly of the future where he will attack Gwen. He quickly gets home, and notices that he’s begun to grow more hair on his arms and legs. His voice has also started to change, and he’s starting to feel funny around girls. And then things get weird...

Good place to pause! See you in Part 2!

[apprenticeofcups]

Teratopathy - Ch 12 🍋 [The Arcana AU]

Fairy-tale-inspired Monster AU commissioned by @canistheapprentice​ (what?) 

Ch 12, “The Raven”: As it happens, Canis isn’t the only one who likes a bite now and then.

Pairings: Canis/Julian Words: 3470 Warnings because they bang in this one - light d/s, hair-pulling, finger-sucking, light choking

More About Canis | On AO3 | Ch 1 | Ch 11 | Ch 13

“No, that’s your sun sign.” Crossing his arms, Canis waited while Julian fumbled for his key. “Your rising sign has to do with the time you were born. It’s more…the world’s reaction to you. Not just who you are.”

Holding open the back door, Julian gestured him up the stairs. “And that would be?”

“Between nine and ten at night while the sun is in Pisces…” Canis had sketched out so many charts with the aid of his huge, purple-and-gold star-book he knew the thing by rote. “Libra.” Hiking up the narrow spiral stairs to the rooms above the office, he tossed their much-loved picnic-and-stargazing blanket onto the tired, saggy leather couch and fell backward onto it. “Charming, persuasive…”

“Oh?” Stripping off his coat and tossing it on the sun-bleached armchair piled with more discarded clothes, Julian dropped onto the couch next to him, stretching out between him and the cushions, one leg hanging off the end by about a foot. “Are you sure you’ve got your times right?”

“Indecisive,” Canis went on pointedly, sitting up and straddling his hips. “Bad with relationships.”

“That sounds more like it.” Unlacing his boots with one hand, Julian leaned up to kiss him, running the other hand up his back.

“Gentle, too.” Softly, Canis cupped his cheeks, brushing the hair back from his eyes, arching his back ever so slightly to grind against his lap. “And accommodating.”

“Ah, but you already knew that.” Trailing kisses down his neck, Julian was careful to avoid the bite. “Remember?”

“So you said.” Undoing his cravat in one swift pull, Canis nudged open his collar, tracing over the skin of his throat before nipping under his jaw. Julian shivered, stifling a moan in his shoulder. Undoing the buttons of his shirt and waistcoat, Canis murmured, “But you have yet to really prove it.”

Slipping both hands under his blouse, Julian felt up his sides, soft leather fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps across his ribs. “Oh, please—” Kissing the hollow of his neck, messier and more insistent, Julian mumbled, “Please—”

“Please?” Tipping his face up with two fingers, Canis ground lower and harder on his lap. “Do you want to?”

“I—ohh—” Pressing into his hand, Julian sucked on the tips of his fingers, hips rolling up from the couch.

“Julian.” Pulling his hand away, Canis caught his head, holding him up and looking him firmly in the eye. “Do you want this?”

“I do,” he panted, pawing at Canis’ back, straining to kiss him. “I do, I—” He paused, then his face fell, and he let out his breath, arms going limp around Canis’ waist. “I do,” he said again, this time without desperation. “There’s…something I have to tell you, first.”

“What is it?” Canis asked, trying and failing not to jump to the wildest possible conclusions.

Sliding off the couch, Julian brushed himself off, tossing his boots into the corner. “I need you to promise—well, I supposed I really can’t ask that of you—” Undoing the rest of his buttons, he hesitated, shirt falling open to the dusting of dark red hair across his chest and the pendant of his necklace, a sharp, curved tooth the size of a raspberry, deep white-veined amethyst carved with a sigil. “I—I never meant—it’s just—” Floundering, he sighed, shoulders sinking. “Well—you’ll see.”

Before Canis could ask, there was a sound like the wind hitting a sail, and the necklace fell to the floor. Blue-black wings unfurled from Julian’s back, identical in shape to Malak’s, but impossibly huge, longer than he was tall, primary feathers brushing the walls at either end of the room. As Canis watched, he pulled off his gloves, burying his face in his hands. More feathers covered his forearms, black, scaly patches interrupting the pale skin of his wrists and hands, and his nails were talons—curved, hard, sharp, and pitch-black.

“Oh, Julian…” While it certainly hadn’t been what he expected, Canis had one too many demon-bites and werewolves coming to tea to be completely gobsmacked. Pushing off the couch, he gently guided Julian’s hands away from his face, laying a hand on his chest. “…Is that it?”

“Is that—” Julian stare at him, wings drawing in again. “What were you expecting?”

“Not this,” Canis admitted, sliding an arm around his waist. More feathers, softer and shorter like those on his arms, covered his back. “I understand why you reacted the way you did, but…this isn’t so bad.”

“We were in public, and—” Wincing, Julian ran a hand over his cheek, careful to keep the sharp tips of his nails off the skin. “The, uh, necklace—it only hides them, so I don’t have to wear a bedsheet everywhere—” He laughed ruefully, avoiding Canis’ eyes. “I didn’t—wasn’t sure how you’d feel, grabbing a handful of feathers.”

“It would’ve been a surprise.” Kissing his cheek, Canis stroked between his shoulder blades, feeling the powerful muscles attachments shudder. “I’m glad we waited ‘til you felt comfortable telling me—but this doesn’t change anything.”

Looking down at him, Julian raised an eyebrow. “No?”

Holding his gaze, Canis shoved a hand down the front of his trousers, biting his lip. “Any more feathers I should know about?”

Julian gasped, cheeks reddening as he leaned into Canis’ palm. “N-no—”

Leaning up to kiss him, one hand wrapped around his nape, Canis licked across his bottom lip, drawing out a long moan. Suddenly, everything went dark and a few degrees warmer, as the huge black wings wrapped around them reflexively. Pressed to Julian’s chest, Canis giggled. “That’s fun.”

“Sorry, sorry—” Folding them away against his back, Julian huffed. “It’s, uh—you may have to tie them down.”

Perking up, Canis pulled the hand out of his pants, teasing up his shaft with two fingers as he did so. “Really?”

Julian shivered, blush spreading down his chest, pulling Canis close by the small of his back. “…if I ask nicely?”

“Mm…” Tasting his fingers, Canis trailed them across Julian’s chest, heading to the bedroom. “We’ll see…”

-

As it happened, the mechanics of rolling into bed with someone sporting twenty-odd feet of wings weren’t nearly as complicated as anticipated. They adjusted swiftly and automatically when Canis pushed him down on the rumpled covers, tucking out of the way as he straddled Julian’s waist, untying his petal-pink top so it fell off him in a cascade of ribbons. The ropes, three thick coils of red silk hidden away in the battered nightstand, were waiting, in case he needed them.

Already panting, Julian ran a hand up his stomach, teasing at a rose-quartz nipple-stud with his thumb, and Canis gasped, grabbing a handful of his own hair. Flicking his tongue over the other pink-studded barbell, Julian tugged at his belt, a bright scrap of purple satin knotted around his hips. Breathlessly, Canis arched his back, pushing his hips forward. “Go ahead.”

Sharp talons made quick work of the tight knots, and the belt and pants fell loose around Canis’ waist. Before he could get any further, though, Canis pushed him away, his back bouncing on the mattress, and leaned low over his chest, kissing behind his ear. “So,” he murmured, tracing patterns on Julian’s chest. “What do you like, Doctor?” Grinding in his lap, he felt Julian’s cock twitch against his ass, and giggled. “Is that what you like to be called?”

“Not usually,” Julian admitted, flushed red to the tips of his ears. “A-a little of this, a little of that…” Rubbing Canis’ thighs, he shivered. “If, uh, ‘this’ is torture and humiliation, and ‘that’ is…pain.”

Eyes lighting up, Canis took a handful of his hair, tangling his fingers in the dark red curls. “Is that so?” Julian’s breath quickened in anticipation, and he gave a yank, stomach fluttering when Julian let out a moan, eyes rolling back. “Oh, my…”

“S-so a little of this,” Julian corrected, squirming underneath him, “a lot of that.”

Canis twisted his hair, and he groaned again, pawing blindly at the front of Canis’ pants. “What about talking?” Kissing down his neck, Canis nipped at the thin skin behind his ear. “Do you like to ask for what you want?”

“I’ll beg—” Eagerly, Julian kissed him, over and over, licking desperately into his mouth. “I’ll beg—I’ll say anything you want me to say—”

“Oh, I see…” Pulling away teasingly, Canis bit his lip. “You’ll beg?”

“Yes—yes—” Whimpering, Julian peppered his chest with kisses, plucking gently at both barbells. “I’ll—I’ll do anything—”

“Oh—” Shuddering, Canis dug his nails into Julian’s arms, eyelids fluttering. “Anything?” Face buried in his chest, Julian could only moan to the affirmative, hands sliding down the back of Canis’ pants and cupping his ass. “You want me to bite you?” Again, he moaned, grip tightening. “Scratch you?” His hips shuddered up from the bed, the front of his trousers tented and damp. “Hit you?” Julian’s head lolled back helplessly, one clawed hand flying to his throat. Canis perked up. “Oh, is that what you want?” Smacking Julian’s hand away, he wrapped his fingers around the base of his throat, guiding him onto his back with only the smallest effort, every muscle taut and quivering under his palm. “Do you want me to choke you?”

Whining in the back of his throat, Julian pawed at his sides, and Canis shook his head. “No, you said you would beg…”

“Nn—please—” Spine arching up from the mattress, Julian tugged on his own hair. “Please—”

“Oh, you can do better than that,” Canis cooed, giving a gentle squeeze.

Breath hitching, Julian stammered, “Please—please—please choke me, god, please—I-I’ll be good—”

“Mm, you are good, Julian…” Pressing tightly on the sides of his neck, Canis let out a soft gasp, watching him writhe and buck on the sheets. “So sweet and polite.”

Julian went totally limp when he let go, groaning into the pillow. Slipping off his pants, Canis rolled to one side, yanking him up by the hair. Obediently, Julian straddled him, kissing him messily and smoothing his hair, his knees tight on Canis’ hips. Feeling his face while Julian kissed fervidly down his chest, Canis laughed. “Sweet boy, are you drooling?”

Julian froze, peeking up worriedly through his lashes. “I-I’m sorry—”

“Oh, no, no…” Wiping the saliva from his cheek, Canis smeared it across Julian’s mouth. “You’re so cute…so eager to please…”

“Mm-hmm—” His mouth fell open, reaching for Canis’ fingers as they passed.

“Like a little puppy.” A shiver ran down his spine in a visible tremor of feathers, and Canis smiled. “You like that? ‘Puppy’?”

“N—n—” Swallowing, Julian felt up Canis’ thigh, palming his cock shyly. “N-never—been called that—before—”

“Oh—” Sharply, Canis slapped his hand away. “I didn’t say you could touch.” Sitting up, he undid Julian’s belt, yanking his pants partly down his thighs. “Been called what?”

“Hah—” Julian grabbed handfuls of the sheets when Canis pulled his cock free of his trousers, hard and dribbling on the tousled covers.

Stroking him with agonizing slowness, Canis murmured, “Do you like it?”

“Hn—”

“Say it.”

Moaning, Julian kissed him passionately; abruptly, Canis yanked him away by the hair. “Bad puppy. I didn’t say you could touch.”

Twisting in his grip, Julian let out a whine, thrusting into his hand.

“Say it,” Canis coaxed in a singsong voice, releasing his cock and running his slick hand over Julian’s stomach.

“I—like it—” Julian sobbed, squirming when Canis let him go. “I-I’m yours—your puppy—”

“Good boy…” Lying back and pulling him down by the nape, Canis bit into his shoulder, sucking the trembling muscle ‘til he left a dark bruise. “Do you want to touch?”

“Yes—yes—” Rocking earnestly against his hips, Julian tried to wipe his watering mouth on his shoulder, groaning into the bruised spot. “Please let me get you off—please—use me—”

“Show me.” Nails digging into the back of his neck, Canis forced two fingers into his mouth, wet and hungry, driving in up to the knuckle. Clenching handfuls of the sheets, Julian sucked on him with choking, wanton moans, a thin trickle of saliva running off his chin, dotting on Canis’ chest. Curling on the bedspread, Canis panted, “Oh, sweet boy…you’re so desperate…oh, you make me so hard—” Pressing his cock into Julian’s thigh and stroking himself with his free hand, he gasped. “So needy…I j-just want to sit on your cute little face…”

Shuddering, Julian surged forward, forcing Canis’ fingers to the back of his throat ‘til he gagged. “Oh?” Dragging his nails down Julian’s thigh, Canis bit his lip. “Would you like that, puppy? You want to suck me off?”

“Mm-hmm—mm-hmm—”

“Want me to use you, fuck your mouth ‘til I’m done with you?”

Whining around his fingers, Julian nodded.

“Do you want to swallow my cum?” Licking his lips, Canis fondled one gold-pierced nipple. “Or do you want it on your face, messy boy?”

Rutting against his hips, Julian let out a muffled wail.

Yanking his fingers away, Canis shoved him down onto the bed, straddling his shoulders and forcing into his mouth with a long, indulgent sigh, rubbing his own thighs eagerly. Pinned to the sheets, Julian sucked on him happily, laving over the soft skin with his tongue, his chin and chest glistening with drool and precum.

“G-good—boy—” Bouncing on his chest, Canis felt movement behind him and glanced over one shoulder. One of Julian’s hands was still tangled in the covers, the other palming blindly at his cock. Frowning, Canis clamped his heels around Julian’s arms, wrenching a handful of his hair. “Don’t touch yourself, puppy—” he panted, between the spine-curling waves from the mouth working around him. Catching Julian’s hand on the second try, he guided the long, grabbing talons to the small of his back, holding them gently in place. “You t-tap me—if you want—to stop—” He gasped for breath, quivering from the strain of holding himself together. “O-one for yes, two for n-no—three f-for—stop—understand?”

One light tap against his back. Throwing back his head, he cried out, shivering all over. “J-just like that—”

Low, heady moans vibrating in his chest, Julian’s head bobbed, taking him deeper, throat tightening around him.

“G-good boy—oh, good—fuck—oh, J-Julian—” Back arching, hands buried in his own hair, Canis fucked ravenously into his mouth until his head dropped back, hips twitching uncontrollably as he came with a long cry, all over Julian’s face. Dropping back onto his elbows, he watched with hooded eyes as Julian licked his face clean, chest heaving, wiping the cum off his cheek and lapping it off his palm in between ragged breaths.

“Don’t get up, puppy,” he breathed, and Julian went obediently flat on the sheets. Moving down to straddle his lap, Canis ground back against his cock, relishing the feeling of long, hard, and pulsing between his ass cheeks while Julian sobbed and writhed against him. With a flick of his hand, glowing golden cuffs materialized around Julian’s wrists, a delicate magical tether drawing his arms up and over his head, even less give than an ordinary chain when he tugged on it. Raking his nails down Julian’s chest, Canis eased down onto his cock with a sharp, lascivious gasp. “Mm…I’m not done with you, yet.”

-

It was a while before Julian could talk again, head nestled on Canis’ chest, wings spread out behind him like a fallen angel in a Renaissance painting. Mostly, he traced gentle patterns around the splash of freckles on Canis’ chest, making soft, croaky noises of acknowledgement while Canis stroked his hair and murmured his praises, the sheets around them still damp with sweat and everything else. Taking a deep breath, Julian ran a hand over the long red welts carved into his chest and smiled.

“Are you alright?” Kissing the top of his head, Canis hooked the escaping comforter with his foot and pulled it up around them. “Do you need anything?”

“On the contrary.” Curling around him, Julian sighed. “I could die right here.”

Shaking his head, Canis played with his fingers, subtly examining the patches of tough, scaly black on the pads of his fingers, palm, and wrist. “So, not too bad, then…”

“That was…” With a residual shiver and a rustle of feathers, Julian kissed under his jaw. “Intense, for a first go. Not to mention I’m an, uh, unconventional partner, even for someone with experience.”

“I have a lot of experience.” Canis kissed his palm. “You might be toward the top of the list, but…I’ve done unconventional before.”

“Aha.” Trailing one hand over his stomach a little lamentingly, Julian snorted. “Sometimes I miss being closer to the bottom—pun absolutely intended.”

Exasperated, Canis giggled, reaching over to pet the blue-black feathers covering his back. Julian tensed against him, wings folding in, and he stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s alright.” Julian kissed behind his ear. “I don’t mind.”

Carefully, Canis felt over his back. The feathers along his spine were downier and softer, the wings stiffer and glossy, primaries as long as his arm. Where they grew from his shoulder blades, the muscle attachments were tight, knotted, and powerful. Marveling at them, Canis asked, “So you haven’t always been..." For the life of him, he couldn't think of a word, not one that encompassed everything. "...like this?”

“No.” It wasn’t curt, just quiet.

Pulling his hand away, Canis snuggled into the pillows—and one wing unfolded, draping over them both like a blanket. He smiled. “You really don’t mind the petting.”

“Mm…” Grinning into his shoulder, Julian wrapped an arm around his waist. “I don’t get much attention there, for obvious reasons.”

“I see.” Canis resumed stroking between his shoulders, feeling him melt into the mattress.

“Seven years,” Julian said into the crook of his neck, dulcet voice sending the slightest tingle through his bite.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Canis kissed the side of his head. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“No, I, I told myself I’d give you an explanation.” Julian closed his eyes. “If you didn’t run screaming the moment I showed you.”

“You’re not that scary,” Canis declared, hooking one leg over his hip. “Just a big, skinny bird-man.”

Laughing, Julian relaxed into him. “It’s…a curse. Years ago, when the plague swept through from the west…” A somber hollowness crept into his voice. “I have a sister. She’s probably around your age. She caught a septic strain—much faster than the common plague, more, ah—more lethal.” Taking his hand, Julian took a breath. “By the time she was showing symptoms, there was nothing I could do. I was lost, desperate. I tracked down something…otherworldly, to help me save her. They said it would cost me everything that made me human, but…it seemed like a small price to pay.”

It felt like he wanted to say more, or wanted Canis to say something, but instead, it just hung in the air.

“She’s alive,” he went on after a long moment. “She’ll live a long, healthy life. That’s what matters.”

Thinking, Canis played with his curls. “…Well, it could’ve been much worse.” Shrugging, he scooted down to lay his head on Julian’s chest. “Humanity has its perks, but it’s a little overrated.”

Julian hesitated, then laughed, freely and relieved. “Oh, well, in that case.”

“I’ve done my fair share of rituals,” Canis pointed out, teasing at the hair on his chest. “You could’ve lost your heart, your mind, been forced to sacrifice some poor animal…” Nuzzling into Julian’s neck, he sighed. “You’re still kind, intelligent…handsome…”

“From the front, at least,” Julian muttered ruefully.

“I don’t think so.” Wiggling one arm out from under the huge black wing, Canis ran a hand over the coverts. “You may not like them, but I think your wings are gorgeous.” He gasped suddenly, looking up at Julian, who’d flushed bright red again. “Can you fly?”

He made a face. “Sure, but I really don’t—I mean, not usually—”

“Would you show me, sometime?” Eagerly, Canis pawed at his chest. “I can hide you with magic—you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else seeing.”

Biting his lip, Julian frowned. “This…really doesn’t bother you.”

Softly, Canis kissed him, breathing in the warm smell of old leather, comforting as the gentle hands on his back. Lips pressed to Julian’s cheek, he smiled. “You’ll have to try a lot harder to scare me.”

“In that case, my dear, daring magician.” Melting into him, Julian kissed his temple. “It would be my pleasure.” ☕

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter |  On AO3

[eleanorsparkz]

A Storm is Rising

Vikings (Ivar x Reader)

Chapter 4

Ivar's voice tears you out of your dream. The first thing you think: "What happened last night? How did I get here?" You look around and notice the smoke rising into the air everywhere. They started with the plan. Your head still feels heavy and filled with water. You are strolling towards Ivar and Hvitserk to see what they are doing. They walk around and give orders or check if everything works out. "What canI do?" you ask with a typical sleepy voice and rub your sensitive eyes. "Have you ever heard that saying? 'The early bird catches the worm'?" Ivar greets you with a teasing grin. "Yes, but the second mouse gets the cheese. Well, how can I help?" Ivar smiles. He loves it when you are quick-witted and fool around with him. He looks at you. "Get sober." he just says and then goes on. Hvitserk and you roll your eyes at the same time. Then he looks at you and grins. "Don't look at me like that!" you warn. He holds his hands up innocently. "Why?". "Because you look at me like you know something I don't." He laughs out loud. "You don't remember yesterday night, do you?” Your eyes widen with panic. If you drink you can tell real senseless rubbish or embarrassing things that lie on your heart but would otherwise never say. "What did I say?" you ask but he just keeps laughing. "If only you could see your face!" he continues to laugh and bends over to lean on his knees. "Tell me!". " Nope. ". You hit him on the shoulder and he runs away laughing.    "I swear by the gods I will kill you! Slowly and painfully!” You run after him and try to catch him. "I'll kill you". Ivar watches the whole thing from afar. Deep in thought.

****

Ivar's plan worked. The Christians are running into a trap. They all believe that you have given up and sailed away. You are all waiting for your mission, you are in the canalization of York. The rats run between your feet and flee upwards. You take your sword and put your hands folded on the handle. You begin to pray quietly and many join you. "All-Father, Make me fast and accurate, Let my blade strike true, Make my arm swifter than any who would seek to destroy me, Grant me victory o'er my foes and when my death comes,let not my last thought be "if I had only...".but rather let the Halls of Valhalla ring with my name, and let me die atop a mountain of enemy corpses." after you have finished the prayer it does not take long and Ivar roars to attack. You all storm out and use the moment of surprise. You kill one after the other. Your sword cuts through their leather armor like water. The blood splashes everywhere, on the walls, the floor, your hands and in your face sticks the warm Christian blood. Ivar is at your side throwing blades as he moves slowly. Archers defending the obvious target. And also you block attacks aimed at him. You can see Hvitserk cheerfully and with a murderous gaze cutting his way through the Christians. Then your eyes remain on a Christian. His eyes shimmer blue, his hair is black and he acts like a god of war. He protects the king, Aethelwulf. Suddenly he sees you and looks at you. Everything seems to be passing in slow motion at this moment. He looked angry at first, but now his gaze is full of interest and his eyes are suddenly so soft. You can no longer look at him as you defend yourself against an attack. You duck through under his sword blow and slit his throat in the same breath. And so you dance through the battlefield.

You stand beside Ivar on a higher view at the wall and look down into the fighting screaming crowd.  You shoot down Christians from up there and cover Hvitserk, who rages narrow-mindedly through the crowd. The blood on your armor and skin has dried and begins to crumble and itch. The cold air makes your breath visible. Your eyes start to burn from the icy draught. Ivar stares with a satisfying smile down to the Christian with the black hair. He now sits on a horse and fights your men while he calls something in his language. They aim at him but you don't let go of the arrow. Something is holding you back. Ivar looks at you. His gaze follows yours and he recognizes the Christian who petrifies you. His horse falls because he is killed by arrows and his rider falls from this height on his back. Nevertheless he quickly recalls himself and reaches for his sword, parries and keeps your men away. Ivar holds one hand up and stops you and the others. You relax your bow. And with a skeptical look you wait for Ivar's action. "He is a great warrior! Give him my horse," he commands. You lift your brow in surprise. They gave him Ivar's horse and he held himself long but he was the last, the others fled among them Aethelwulf and his son. At the end they dragged him down. He roars and defends himself but they all keep him down. You are still watching how they tie him up and lead him away.

Hope you liked it!

Sorry if my english sometimes doesn’t make sense or is wrong.

[draqcnheartstrinq]

As The Waves Crash Down (part 2)

Sailor!Sirius Black x Reader

Summery: Maybe a regular walk on the beach could become so much more…

Word count: 1.432

Note: I feel like this part is a little cheesy, but oh well! The next part wil probably be the last? I’m not really sure yet... Enjoy this one though!

Part 1 Part 3

The smell of cafeïne lingered inside the coffeeshop, quiet mumbling came from other customers, a warm sense flooded every inch of you. Canis was stretched out on the wooden floor, resting from his tiring walk along the seaside as you and the handsome young man decided to share a hot drink and a comfortable talk. Seated in the booth right next to the full length window you both had an amazing view of all the boats in the slightly waving water.

You watched the man’s hands slide around his cup, warming themselves back up from the cold air outside.

“Please, Ula, tell me your real name.” The way his eyes met yours expectantly was almost puppylike. It was adorable, soft. You wouldn’t describe him as those two terms in general though, he looked handsome, exciting, laid back, a little mischievous even.

“It’s (Y/N)”, you hesitantly answered before awaiting his response. “(Y/N)”, he repeated, almost whispered before putting his steaming cup to his lips. When the hot liquid slid down his throat you focussed your gaze on his Adam’s apple bobbing up and back down again. “A beautiful name for a beautiful person.” You rolled your eyes at his cliché answer but still couldn’t keep your smile from spreading wide across your face. “Well, what’s yours then, Mr. Sailor?” He chuckled when hearing the mocking nickname slip from your lips. “Sirius, but you can call me yours.” Again, you let your eyes roll back at his ‘smooth’ answer. If it would have been any other guy, you would think of him as rude or too straight forward and would’ve probably already turned him down by now. But for some peculiar reason it just made you like Sirius that little bit more. You thought it was his aura, the vibe that lingered around him, the charismatic smirk he gave you every now and then. On the other side of the wooden table sat Sirius, admiring the way you stared out of the window, how you tapped your nails against the wooden surface and how serene your facial features seemed to be. He could look at them all day, not averting his eyes ones. But he quickly decided against doing so as he could come over as a total creep.

“Where did you go?” you blurted out of nowhere. The question obviously surprised him at first, his eyes widened, his brows shot up, his mouth moved slightly agape. The startled expression swiftly changed back to his usual relaxed demeanor when he saw your innocent eyes looking back towards him. “With my sailing boat you mean?” he chuckled. “Yeah, where did you go off to for so long?” The curiosity in your voice was layered in obvious amounts and even a little fascination dripped from your voice.

“I go anywhere but nowhere in particular. I follow the streams, chase the horizon and go wherever my subconscious self takes me.” “Where did it take you this time?” Sirius was quiet for a while, pondering and considering all the answers he could give. Or he wasn’t sure about the answer he wanted to give. “At first, it took me southwards towards the tropical lands, the hot climates, the beautiful islands I guess. Afterwards it took me right back to this beach, where I met my stunning Ula.” His eyes met yours in a hurried check of your reaction, he looked worried at what you would say next. Would you be weirded out? Seeing the usually smooth Sirius like this, literally on the edge of his chair, was totally out of character. You made him nervous, something you thought was impossible for a man like him. Usually so carefree and out in the open. “You only talked to me ones, we exchanged about five sentences”, you said in an unamused tone, not believing the possibility that he could’ve come all the way back to this particular beach just so he could see “his Ula” again. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be intrigued” he answered in a hushed voice as he leaned forward over the table to catch your eyes in his. How he had a way with words and gestures, it pulled you into his grasp, exposed you entirely for him to explore, but still you didn’t want to give in.

“Well then, Sirius. Tell me, why did you come back? You were intrigued… and then? What did you expect from turning around and heading back to this place?”

You could almost feel his thoughts going at unbelievable speed. His eyes narrowed, scanned every little detail of your face, went from your lips, to the tip of your nose and back to the depths of your eyes where they always seemed to get back to. You thought he had simply forgotten about your question until he answered in his usual smooth way again.

“I was hoping I would see you again, hoping we would run into each other like before. When I saw Canis strolling towards me across the sand I just couldn’t miss my chance." His eyes looked like sparkling grey orbs whilst he recited the memory, smiling and grinning again. “You don’t believe me, do you?” “Not quite”, you stated without hesitating. It all seemed so unbelievable; your dog runs of, leads you to a handsome stranger, the man gives you an adorable nickname, he sails away before you get to know him, still a weird attraction keeps growing between the two of you, eventually he sails back, the only reason being you and now you’re sitting together in this little coffee shop right next to the foggy window looking over the calming waves outside. It sounded all a bit ridiculous if you had to be honest, the situation could’ve come straight out of a romcom. Sirius sighs, combing his hand through his unruly hair. He looks gracious but defeated at the same time.

“A penny for your thoughts”, he softly says before sliding an actual penny across the table. You smirk, looking up at him and back down where you start to fidget with the copper coin.

“I was thinking about how ridiculous this is, the way we met.” “How we only spoke to each other ones but still can’t keep one another out of our minds…” “Exactly”, you answer and smile, still looking down at your fumbling hands. He lays his hands onto yours, stopping your restless fingers, making your gaze meet his. But he doesn’t say a word. “A penny for your thoughts” you say back to him whilst taking one of his hands, carefully exposing his palm and laying the coin tenderly on top of it, closing his fist and keeping it warm between yours. He chuckles before answering: “I want to take you with me, sailing I mean.”

Your eyes widen at this sudden confession. It slightly warms your heart, relieving you in some kind of way, but together with the pleasant feelings come many questions rushing inside your head. “How…But…Why? I’ve never gone sailing before! Why would you take me? We barely know each other. What about my job? I can’t just leave on a trip with a rando-”

His chuckles make you stop your rambling. “Of course I’m not going to steal you away right this second, Ula. I was thinking about next week or in two weeks, I’ll give you all the time you need. To answer your question: Why? I just thought it would be a unique way of getting to know a one of a kind person.” You stay motionless, looking at him in awe. “If you don’t want to I’m not making you, but know that you’re always welcome to take me up on my off-” “No! I mean, I would like that, it’s simply a lot to take in at once”, you nod and furrow your brows, “Thank you though, for the offer.” “With pleasure.”

Your dog moves from his sleeping position on the ground to resting his head on Sirius’ lap. Again, just like the first time you met on the docks, Canis looks perfectly comfortable in Sirius’ presence, which he normally isn’t with any other stranger. Your stare lands back onto the pendant Sirius had hung on the dog collar, which had previously hung on his necklace. The little golden dog, now prominently lying against his jeans, almost perfectly resembled Canis’ breed. You grin. “What a coincidence, isn’t it?” you point towards the little pendant. “Yeah, you could definitely say that”, he answers and fondly smiles when staring into your eyes again.

Part 3

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[sameteeth]

is billy the bosun again after he comes back from being dead. its not super clear but also they kinda drop ship politics after s1... like whos master gunner... whos the carpenter... does logan get replaced as armorer ??¿? whos the cook?? it cant be silver, but we see him squeezing mucus from eels (hagfish?) in the doldrums... (for an unclear purpose?) ...

[sameteeth]

absolutely insane to me that silver's conversation w muldoon before he dies is one of truth and reassurance - silver admits he's terrified of being forced to rely on the crew and feels he needs to be strong and not need help to be useful and necessary and muldoon tells him that none of that matters, he's useful in a way different than a normal seaman would be and even if he wasnt the crew would STILL support and help him - and then muldoon is killed.

[sameteeth]

in s3e4, when silver is taken from the cages to speak to madi, he says he has 2 dozen men in cages (4 having been killed already) ... granted this is post-becalming and 2 men were killed there. flint kills one man in the storm when he cuts free the fore topgallant. one guy goes falls into the ocean when billy and the others on the yards when they get dunked. and muldoon dies. so that puts us at a conservative estimate of 34 walrusmen ± 3 if you think silver included himself, billy, and flint in his estimate of the men in the cages. which doesnt seem to be NEARLY enough for a ship of that size. the walrus is a fully rigged barque from what i can tell - triple masted, square rigged, with the mizzenmast partly fore-and-aft rigged. the wiki lists the walrus as having 60-70 men which makes more sense, but pirate crews were noted to have an excess of men to reduce work (compared to the navy, where ships would only be manned w necessary numbers of men). i guess they could have managed thru the storm w only ~35 men? more may have died offscreen from the storm or starved i suppose

[sameteeth]

something that i think is really interesting about billy's view of flint in s3 is that he thinks flint's death (if it's in a self-sacrificial way) will not absolve him of his sins in life but that it will make up for the hurt he's caused. or at least that billy wants it to. he pushes flint to take the maroon queen hostage so that flint will die, but flint will die for the crew. billy says in s3e6 "with all the shit that he's done, the things he's gotten away with, [flint dying to free them from the maroons] would have been fair. that would have been right" and that he wants to see "the moment the world finally catches up to [flint]" if/when he dies dueling teach. billy has a very simple idea of justice - he wants flint to die for the death and destruction he has caused, no matter how. that will make the world right, that the narrative will be balanced again.

but what billy doesn't know, and what makes me INSANE about this show is that the full quote from billy is is "I think part of the reason I've been able to stand by his [flint's] side is that I wanted to make sure I've got a good view of the moment the world finally catches up to him... and this story starts to make sense again." but to flint, what he has done is in service of his own justice. justice for the deaths of thomas and miranda and james mcgraw, for the theft of his home in london and again his home in nassau. but to billy, HIS narrative identifies flint as the villain. as the monster. for billy to get justice, flint must die. but it's SUCH a good line, because it also prompts the viewer to think - in OUR narrative, which follows flint and silver mostly, flint must succeed. we want him to beat teach and take the fleet back and overthrow the british empire. flint is shown to be a murderer but he is also shown to be deeply deeply human and we are set up to sympathize him. but it makes you consider what other voices we aren't hearing. who else has been hurt by flint's actions? what narratives have flint as the villain ? none of the characters in black sails are the heroes in every story - but to who are they the villains?

[sameteeth]

[ image description:

3 screenshots of max and anne's conversation in the cave in black sails season 3 episode 3. all screenshots show anne, standing in the dark with only a single beam of light across the frame, and closed captions along the bottom. she moves from the dark on the left to further to the right with each screenshot, with the first screenshot being her completely consumed by darkness and the final screenshot showing her silhouette outlined by the beam of light.

the first screenshot's closed captions are of max speaking - she says "you should stay...". the second screenshot continues max's statement: "To see it be divided evenly". the third screenshot is of anne speaking - the closed captions read "I trust you." end image description ]

something something in the dark there is possibility

[sameteeth]

i love teach's weird "older brother of ur best friend who absolutely HATES you" vibe wrt jack and anne lmao

[sameteeth]

the flint coming out/silvers worst possible reaction convo is one of the few times we actually see flint like. uncomfortable? or nervous i guess? when silver says he doesn't think the pattern of flint's closest person/partner dying will apply to him because of recent events, flint's response ("it is .. natural for men new to power to assume that it has no limits. trust me - it does.") seems strange. he doesn't argue against seeking out his own tragedies as he did before, or deny the pattern, or tell silver to stop blaming him for the deaths of his partners. he tells silver he isn't as powerful as he might feel at that moment. he's defensive, thrown off-balance by the vulnerability of sharing his most guarded heart and secret, only for silver to throw it back in his face. this conversation is significant for a number of reasons, but one of which is that it highlights flint's devotion to silver (he tells silver he is Entitled to the truth) and silver's reticence to genuine connection with flint. he tells flint he's sorry, but then ruthlessly points out a pattern he sees as a potential danger to him. silver is STILL acting in his own self interest here, almost defensively, whereas flint has given himself entirely over to silver. what happens makes me think of this post - flint has such personal authenticity, he KNOWS what he stands for, he has cast his lot, his narrative is fixed, that he is able to give his truth to silver. whereas silver is still playing at both sides. his identity has coagulated into silver, but he's not Long John Silver yet. he doubts this war, he doubts flint and madi's motivations. why expose a weakness when there's no need? all he sees of flint's confession is a potential threat to him. and then there's flint's response in the face of silver coolly explaining why he will survive flint's self-inflicted tragedy, a weak attempt at silver's feelings of strength, a defensive response to what flint perceives to be an attack from silver.. which silver IMMEDIATELY overturns with his stunt with dobbs, using the men as pawns in his dance with flint, proving to flint that silver is strong, that silver will survive flint. that silver will hurt flint. and all flint has to offer is an uncertain but (to me) very genuine attempt at comfort in the face of silver's ironclad defense of his own strength. that even if they agree silver has such powerful influence over the men, flint can still stand with him, against him if they have to.

[sameteeth]

i love the theme of death in s3 - it opens w blackbeard talking about promises of forever being fake, a shot of a ticking pocketwatch in episode 7 being the Opening Shot of the episode, the season ending w charles vane dying .. its clear the golden age of piracy is over, and it couldn't have lasted forever. but the age of england's rule also can't last forever

[sameteeth]

also - what is miranda trying to tell flint? is it in any of the scripts? do we have access to any of the scripts? i can only find transcripts but im also not looking very hard lol

[sameteeth]

charles vane is sooo teach's boy.... he literally complains men who are comfortable wont depose a shitty captain -> vane calls flint lame for wanting a life of comfort

[sameteeth]

blackbeard's introduction being him talking about forever being a falsehood both in the sense that he cannot be a husband forever, but also in reference to the shrapnel in his chest... his time on this show being so limited and ended by his brutal and dragged out death

AND THEN AN IMMEDIATE CUT TO FLINT WALKING WITHOUT FLINCHING TOWARDS A GUN WHICH MISFIRES BY CHANCE