#but I enjoy being critical of the things I consume

[sunnyshinesunshine]

Okay so I’ve finally solidified my opinion on The Rings of Power and given that it is my opinion it is therefore very important and I’m sure everyone is dying to hear it (this is sarcasm)

I’ll start by saying I’m not a critical person when it comes to things. I consume media to enjoy myself, not to pick apart its literary or thematic flaws. It’s fine if you do, but that’s just not me.

I will also say I’ve never read the Fall of Númenor as its own story, so any Tolkien primary sources I’m vaguely alluding to (this isn’t a research paper been there done that got the high school diploma I bake cookies for a living I ain’t citing shit thanks <3) are the Silmarillion, LoTR, and The Hobbit.

I didn’t like TROP for the first season, but after catching up on S2, I’ve come to enjoy it.

S1 is the full of world building, setting up the political stage and the relationships between the characters that lead to the creation of the rings and all the other bad hullabaloo that ends in the Last Alliance.

Safe to say, I spent the whole time going ‘what? why is he/she/them saying/believing/acting like this? why is it/this portrayed like this???’ and felt very irked by the whole thing.

S2, the rings are being created, familiar events start happening, the puzzle pieces from S1 that were so unfamiliar and bothersome to me then come together to create a picture that I knew.

Once I got to thinking I realized I actually know a whole lot less about the fall of numenor and the creation of the rings than I thought I did.

When Tolkien writes about those events, he gives the broad strokes in a very history-book way. Celebrimbor creates the rings because he is deceived by Sauron. Tar-Míriel is overthrown by Ar-Pharazôn and marries him against his will. Elrond is with Gil-Galad as his herald.

These are the things, amongst others, that we know. Unlike in the Hobbit or LoTR, we aren’t given any glimpses into the heads or relationships of the characters in anything other than what amounts to almost a timeline of events.

This, of course, leaves a lot of room for Tolkien fans to ask questions. Questions that can be answered through imagination. Imagination becomes ideas, ideas become discussions, discussions become a collective understanding of what happened (fanon*. I’m talking fanon. please read the note at the end because I think fanon is awesome and deserves to be defended)

For example. We know Celebrimbor and Narvi built the Doors of Durin together and added possibly the most ridiculous riddle password possible.

When the Doors are first introduced in LoTR, it is also in the middle of Gimli and Legolas’ semi feuding, and before both of them have some serious moments regarding their histories and cultures (Khazad-Dûm and Lothlórien respectively).

All of this to conclude that at some point between Gigolas’s inter-species feuding and the password to the damn doors being ‘mellon’, as Tolkien fans, we came to the conclusion that Celebrimbor and Narvi were close friends.

Celebrimbor and Narvi are not really much more than acquaintances in TROP. And that isn’t inaccurate. The source material doesn’t have an opinion on it really.

Fanon says Celebrimbor and Narvi were pals. TROP says they weren’t. Canon doesn’t care either way.

I mention this example to explain why TROP felt so wrong especially at the beginning. Essentially we, or at least I, had this idea of how things should be, and when TROP diverged from that I felt lost and annoyed.

Now, I find watching TROP to be honestly kind of fascinating, like watching someone else painting using a model and comparing it to the painting I had already created of that same model.

It’s kind of fun. And every Elrond deserves all of us cheering him on.

*about Fanon:

I love fanon it’s awesome and great and it’s fucking collective story telling in a way that hasn’t really existed in modern times. Thousands of people from all over the world create and agree and discuss and add on to stories. The marauders fandom is almost completely fanon and that’s wonderful. Every single one of you who share your ideas about characters or settings or clothes or even (especially) who create the elleths who exist in the Silmarillion but don’t at the same time, you are awesome.

You’ve created a story and world together. Without being paid. You’ve agreed and created simply for the love of creation. And that’s so amazing.

Fanon is awesome and I don’t care for anyone who calls it cringe.

[fanon-elio]

By your side.

Part 4

Summary: You are the CEO of a big company and hired Lycaon as your personal attendant, however it seems that your wolfish butler has developed a crush on you. So while you and him were on a business trip, both of you were forced to confront your growing feelings for eachother.

Tag: Blue Letter (Hurt/comfort)

Pairing: Von Lycaon x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional and is not canon. You are responsible for the content you consume, so if the following warnings trigger you, you may read at your own risk.

Warnings: Fluff, Slow burn'ish, long fic, mutual pining, reader is smaller than lycaon, lycaon is down bad horrendous, friends to lovers type stuff, some flashbacks here and there.

Angst, Jealousy, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, Lycaon being awfully hard on himself, Guilt, body dysmorphia.

Other warnings: lowkey my first fanfiction, so bare with me here. (T^T)

Yes, this fanfiction WILL contain Nsfw in the future.

This fic was so long, I had to split it up into different parts. All the previous parts will be linked for easy accessibility

I added some throw-away characters to the story as plot devices, no they're not oc's and they hold no importance to the story other than providing character development.

This fic contains a lot of scenarios written in Lycaons pov cuz i eat this shit up for breakfast.

Hello how are you? First things first, I apologize any mistakes you may find, and constructive criticism is always appreciated. This part is a bit longer than the previous ones because if i would have split it up, the oacing would have felt weird. I hope you enjoy regardless.

"You're y/n right?" The woman asks, and you nod, a little confused as to how she knew you despite never having seen or spoken to you. She seems to have picked up on your confusion "I'm sorry, I don't mean to offend you-" you try to explain, but she interrupts you, and instead gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder "don't worry babes, I get it your cautious, but I'm totally on your side, I'm Natalie by the way" she introduced herself, pumping her lip gloss a few times "in fact, nobody has ever made my looser of a husband as mad as you, and I respect you for that big time" she said, and you let out a short chortle, more so to mask your still growing confusion "when I tell you that he got so pressed over your conversation with him after dinner, he really done called his mom to cry about it" she lets out a hearty laugh, and you followed short. But then again you couldn't help the question burning on your tongue as to why she stayed with him, if she clearly didn't like, much less loved him. "Honestly, how do you even put up with that man" you carefully asked her, rummaging through your purse for your lipstick "ugh honestly, that's a mystery to us both babes" she says while she applied another layer of lip gloss.

"To be fully honest with you babes, he actually totally catfished me on our first date" you stopped rummaging as you looked at her in disbelieve, if dear Natalie didn't have you full attention before, she definitely had it now. You turned to her, giving her your full attention as you waited for her to spill the tea to you "listen, we met over a dating app actually, and the first time I saw him I was like, where are the 6.5 foot, and your full head of hair at that you bragged about over text?" Both of you laughed as you finished applying your lipstick, now knowing why she didn't like him. You would have expected her to be just as insufferable as her husband, but instead you internally apologized to her for judging her too soon. Clearly you had no idea she was chill like that.

"But then again, I just gotta know..." you fix your earrings, then turn your head to look at the black haired woman next to you, "be honest with me, what do you even see in that man?" You inquired, all politeness be damned. She lets out a cackle "well, that depends on the day..." you give her a look, silently asking her to elaborate "...today I saw in him a brand-new eyeshadow pallet, and tomorrow maybe a new Lamborghini" she pops her lips, then shoots you a mischievous smile. "He is a hateful, desperate, and rather pathetic man" she continues, and you nod in agreement to the statement of him being hateful considering how he had treated Lycaon "clearly the dude is trying to cope with something, and if I'm fully honest with you, I'm really just sticking around cuz he pays my families bills" she finished, and you're reminded of your own financial dilemma "I know how awful it sounds but listen, I gotta make it worth my time somehow" she says, putting her hands up in an innocence feigning manner.

"But enough about me, what about you babes" you look at her again, your lipstick finding it's way back into your purse "you really won life, I mean your boyfriend is so hot, and he seems to be all over you" she says and your confusion once again resurfaces. "My boyfriend?" she mimics your confused expression as you slowly began to connect the dots in your head, "oh! no, wait, he's not my boyfriend!" You say, realization hitting you square in the face, which is now just as red as your lips while Natalie gave you an equally shocked expression. "Well babes, what are you waiting for? Hello?" She says, and you look away in embarrassment "listen, it's not like I don't want him to be" you admit "but it's... complicated" you sigh "he's my personal attendant, it would be a scandal so much is for sure" she nods along.

"Listen, people fall in love all the time, and it's rarely ever convenient" Natalie says, crossing her arm as she leans against the bathroom sink "trust me you'll regret it more if try to ignore it" she says, and you knew she was right as you let out a huff "truth is, I think I'm just scared of ruining what we have you know" she raises one of her eyebrows as a silent question "if I confess to him, and he doesn't reciprocate my feelings, not only would it ruin our friendship but also would make all of our interactions hella awkward" you say, a blush once again creeping its way onto your face as you internally beat yourself up for talking about your love life with some stranger in a bathroom "and even if he does, we could potentially risk ruining our careers." She takes a step towards you "shit sure sounds like a whole mess..." she says "but even then, at least you tried" she once again putts a hand on your shoulder "just talk with him, test the waters you know" she says and right now she reminded you so much of Zhu yuan.

The Pub sec officer kept saying the exact same things to you, something along the lines of "a conversation never hurt anybody" or "for starters, just ask him if he's into someone" speaking as if she had ever been in a relationship with someone, even though everyone knew she kept her job like a lover. She was also the one who had recommended Random play to you, dragging you there to pick out a romantic movie for quote unquote "Inspiration." Clearly she had been in kahoots with the the manager of the store, judging by how awfully enthusiastic said young woman seemed when she handed you the movie.

"I need to get back now, gotta keep my gremlin of a husband outta trouble" she says, as she walked past you, bringing your spiraling thoughts back to reality "maybe give what I told you one or two more thoughts on your way back to your prince charming" she said on her way out, doing finger guns as a silent way of encouraging you. And weirdly enough, it does.

As the door falls shut behind her, you once again turn to the mirror, looking yourself over one last time as you silently come to the conclusion to be honest with your feelings.

To both yourself and him.

You step outside the bathroom, wondering how much time had passed while you chatted with Mr. Goldman's better half. You make yourself on your way back to your table, hoping you haven't worried Lycaon too much with your rather long absence.

But it seems Lycaon has to wait for you just a while longer, as you're stopped in your tracks by a tall man.

"Excuse me miss, are you miss y/n by any chance?"

---~---

Worry began to grow in Lycaon's gut as he looked at his pocket watch. You have been gone for over 30 minutes now, and he couldn't help but think that something awful must have happened. More so because of Goldman's distinct absence in the dining hall, his table having stood empty for quite some time now. He put his watch back in his pocket, having decieded to go look for you himself.

He pushed his chair back, and stood up, gently smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed on his suit from sitting as he looked around the room. His sight being the only sense he could currently rely on since it was neither impacted by the loud noise of chattering that made his ears ring in discomfort, nor by the plethora of strong floral scents that painfully burned in his nose, and in turn made it impossible for him to distinguish the sound of your voice or the smell of your perfume from the crowd.

A few more minutes pass as he walked around the hall, still no trace from either you nor that vermin, but he swore if something had happened to you, and Goldman was to blame, he would tear out that man's throat.

"Scuse me" he heard someone from behind him saying, ripping him out of his thoughts as he turned around coming face to face with Mrs. Goldman "Sorry I didn't mean to startle you Mr. L/n" she said, and he fought as he tried to suppress his tail from wagging. "How may I help Mrs. Goldman?" He asked politely, not caring about correcting her, while he secretly ravished in the thought of being married to you.

"I just wanted to ask if you'd be so kind, and give your wife this note" she asked, secretly grinning to herself as she noted that despite calling you his wife he still hadn't correcter her. "I will see to it Mrs. Goldman" he replied, feeling admittedly a bit skeptical, "have you seen y/n by any chance?" He asked, and she shook her head "nah sorry, I left the bathroom before she did, honestly i myself am looking for my husband" she said, annoyance clear in her voice as both of them shared the hope that Mr. Goldman hasn't found you first.

Finally, he spotted you after what seemed like an hour of walking around aimlessly, his tail swishing gently behind him as he wanted to make his way over to you however, his heart sank when he noticed that you weren't alone:

You were with a man - thankfully it wasn't Mr. Goldman, instead you were talking with another thiren. You didn't seem uncomfortable in any way, in fact when the man put his hand on your shoulder, you didn't recoil nor did you seem alerted in any way, you blushed even when you chatted with him.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and shake off this awful sting he felt in his chest as he watched you.

But to no avail.

He clenched his jaw painfully and let out a deep huff as he once again felt this feeling coursing through his veins like molten iron. A feeling that he was already painfully familiar with, having felt it before when that vermin Goldman so openly and shamelessly flirted with you.

Pure jealousy.

Not even reminding himself of the moment you two shared during the speech could ease his nerves now, quite the opposite actually, it only seemed to make his situation worse.

This was supposed to be his special day with you.

His clawed fingers traced the golden tie clip gently as he recalled the memory of both of your reflections in the mirror just a few hours earlier. He is supposed to make you blush like that, like he had done in the boutique when he called you beautiful.

He felt even more insecurities bubble up from the depth of his mind as he watched the man bend down to speak something in your ear, as you played with your earring. Something you would do if you were flustered, whatever this man has said to you, it seems that you liked it.

Lycaon felt a growl bubble in his throat when he watched how close this stranger was to you - his favourite person.

He is supposed to be this close to you, like when he had embraced you after your horrible dinner with that disgusting worm. That place by your side was his.

He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he looked at you, drowning everything around you out like tunnel vision; with you at it's center as he searched for any kind of discomfort on your features, shamefully hoping to find something so he could swoop in and steal you away - steal you back.

But there was nothing.

He took a deep breath, and fixed his tie as he made his way over to you, his doubts following him every step of the way. The metall of his prosthetics clacked against the marble floor, the sound of which was, for some reason, almost defining to him as he approached slowly.

He only had himself to blame he thought. That despite the feelings he harbored for you for so unbearably long, he's never made an attempt to win your heart always valuing his professionalism over his feelings, too afraid of the possible consequences that could come from them.

Was it too late now? Did he miss his chance?

He heared you laugh, normally a sound that he craved. But now it didn't make him feel content, because it wasn't him who made you laugh. "Pardon me" he politely interrupted, fighting with himself to not bare his teeth at the other man infront of him "Ah Lycaon, perfect timing" you said "this is Mr. August" you said, and the thiren extended his hand in greeting "a pleassure meeting you" Lycaon took his hand, politely shacking it "the pleassure is all mine" he responded, even though it was the farthest thing from the truth.

You gave Lycaon a brief rundown of your conversation with Mr. August, saying that the host of tonights gala would like to have a private chat with the both of you. Mr. August was send to fetch you, and both of you got a bit lost in conversation. Lycaon nodded as he took in the information, but secretly all he could think about was how awful that man's scent clung to you.

He shouldn't smell this, he should be smelling your parfume, your shampoo or your body wash, and not another man's cologne. It taunted him with the way it wafted around his nose, like a bitter reminder that he wasn't as poised and polished as he liked to present himself. He wanted to pin you to the nearest wall, to lick you clean of that stench, and he internally scorned himself over how possesive he thought about you right now, despite lacking the courage to confess his feeling to you.

You and Lycaon followed Mr. August as he guided you down a hallway, you cautiously looked around, noticing the extravagant decor and expensive artwork hanging on the wall. On one hand you were glad to be away from the masses, and on the other you felt nervousness rise in you again. You were thankful that Lycaon was with you, since you were sure that you wouldn't have been able to face that Lady on your own. You looked at Lycaon from the corner of your eye, noting how stiff he seemed. You were aware that something was off with him, but you couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong. He had acted strange ever since he had approached you and Mr. August earlier. You pondered for a moment, could it be he was angry with you because you pretty much left him at the table, waiting for you while you chatted away with Mr. August? You swallowed thickly, that had to be it, and who could blame him that really was awful of you. Here he was supporting you the entire evening, making sure you were alright and you just leave him sitting somewhere. What a great friend you were.

You gently tugged on Lycaons sleeve trying to get his attention, and his ears perked up in suprise at the sudden sensation "I'm sorry I left you sitting at the table for so long" you apologized to him "there is no need to worry master, I'm not offended" he responded with a smile, a professional empty one.

You frowned, clearly something must have happened, you thought and dreaded the idea of Mr. Goldman having harrased him again with his usual racist antics. You swore if that was really the case, then you would make your threat of doucing that midget with your drink a reality. Maybe even giving him a good kick to where the sun doesn't shine on your way out.

You placed your hand on his forearm "are you ok?" You asked him, your voice laced with concern while he stayed silent for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by your question "everything is fine master" he replied, breaking eyecontact with you. Your own landed on his clenched fist behind his back, you wanted to reach out and hold it like he had done with yours earlier but chose against it, opting to give him some space. You gently removed your hand from his arm, and his tail dropped a bit at the lack of your touch. Mr. August stopped infront of a door "we are here, Milady is waiting inside for you" he said, and opened the door for the both of you as you stepped inside.

"I'm grateful for the oppertunity to talk with you in person, Ms. Y/n" the host spoke, her wheelchair standing next to the sofa she was sitting on "please, have a seat" she offered, and both of you sat down in the sofa across from her "allow me to properly introduce myself, my name is Clementine Walker, head and founder of Walker International Bank" she introduced herself, more so out of politeness since both you and Lycaon already knew who the Lady sitting in front of you was. She was a well known figure in New Eridu after all.

However, much like yourself she rarely ever appeared in public, choosing to dedicate most of her time to the funding of hollow related research. "I'm sorry, I don't think we are aqquainted yet" she said, her head turned towards Lycaon "it appears as such" he replied "I am Von Lycaon, I serve as Lady Y/n personal attendant" he said politely bowing his head "delighted to make your aqquaintace, Mrs. Walker" He seemed colder than usual.

Mrs. Walker turned to you once more "I assume my husband has already informed you about the purpose of this meeting, yes?" She asked gently placing her hands in her lab "even though it was on rather short notice, please pardon my poor time management." You blinked a few times, voicing out the thought both you and Lycaon shared "your husband?" Mrs. Walker giggled a bit "Yes, August Walker is my husband" she replied, and you apologized for your impoliteness but she assured you that it was alright "it suprises a lot of people" she had said.

Shortly after Mr. August returned, setting down a tray with tea before excusing himself again. You intently listened as Mrs. Walker spoke, internally screaming as you misjudged the temperature of the beverage in your hand, burning your tongue a little in the process. Mrs. Walker, or Clementine as she prefered you'd call her got straight to the point of why she had asked for your time, as she shared her wish of becoming an Investor for your company. For a moment you thought of asking Lycaon to pinch you, just to convince yourself that this was really happening.

Lycaon however was currently boiling in shame, his jealousy now having fully morphed into guilt, and embarrassment as he remembered his earlier antics when he saw you with August Walker. How unbecoming of him to jump to conclusions like that, opting to try and deflect from what he had seen, and felt by putting up his usual professional demeanour he used for any other client.

But you weren't any other client, and he recalls how ashamed he felt when he had seen your expression earlier, clearly concerned for him as you looked right through his carefully crafted facade. He felt beyond awful for pushing you away like that.

However, in a corner of his mind he was silently celebrating. Knowing that perhaps, it still wasn't too late to capture your heart like you had done with his. But especially after today, he didn't know if he could even muster up the courage of asking you out even if he had the oppertunity.

"If I may be so bold to ask" you started, feeling rather anxious in Mrs. Walkers presence. "What was it that sparked your interesst for my company?" You asked, hoping she wouldn't find your question offending. Suprisingly she let out a warm hearted chuckle as she gently moved up her dress, revealing a pair of prosthetics. "Believe it or not, but you have sparked that interesst in me yourself" you tried to apologize to her for prying into such a private topic but she set your mind at ease "it's quite alright deary" she had said.

Slowly your cups began to get emptier, and emptier as Mrs. Walker told the story of how she had met her husband. You and Lycaon perked up when she explained that August Walker had also been her personal attendant, who had taken care of her when she had lost her legs, and whom she had ultimately fallen in love with. As the clock hit 11 am, you decieded to also make your way back home, having thanked Mrs. Walker for the oppertunity and promised her to stay in touch.

The way to the car, and the ride was silent. While you still pondered what could be wrong with Lycaon, he himself occupied his mind trying to figure out where to go with his feelings now. Should he should act on them, or give them up. Mrs. Walkers Story was still fresh on both of your minds, and it gave Lycaon a little hope when he thought about you and him.

Back home, you once again kicked off your high heels like you had done yesterday. You should feel at ease now, that straining evening was over, and you gained a new and influencial ally that could potentially solve all of your financial problems. But you didn't feel like celebrating, too concerned about your companion. Said companion has taken to the kitchen, still having not spoken a single word since the gala. On silent feet you decieded to approach him, trying to carefully pry what was wrong.

You found him in the kitchen, downing a shot of whatever alcohol he had found in the refrigerator, something that concerned you even more by how out of character it seemed for him. He rarely ever drank, prefering tea over anything else. His tie was undone, and his suit jacket layed abandoned on the chair nearby, folded neatly regardless "Lycaon" you started, alerting him to your pressence "are you unwell?" You asked him and he put the bottle to the side, taking a Martini glass from the cupboard. "everything is alright master, the strong smells tonight just have taken quite a toll on me" he lied, and you noticed immediately by the way he pressed his ears to his head. "How about we celebrate your success" he said returning to what he was doing, still refusing to meet your gaze. You sat down in your usual spot as you watched him reach for a knife, noting how much his hand shook. "Has something happened with goldman? Has he harrassed you again while I was away?" You tried again "not at all master, please do not worry" he replied and you took a deep breath. You weren't mad at him, no - right now you were very concerned by the way he acted. "Have I... done something to upset you" you asked which was admittedly what you worried about the most.

This question caught Lycaon off guard so much, the hand that held the knife missed the lemon he was peeling, and the sharp edge of the blade found the flesh of his finger instead "damnit" he whispered, holding his now bleeding finger. The fur around it slowly turning red, and that was your last straw. You got up from where you've been sitting, quickly aproaching him, the sound of which startling Lycaon. "I apologize, I'll quickly grab a bandaid and-" you interrupted him by gently taking his hand, leading him away from the cutting board. The knife now laying abandoned, a red stain on the pristine blaid, just like the stain on Lycaon's pristine demeanour.

You turned on the faucet, gently holding his finger under the cold water. He winced a bit at the temperatur and the small sting of his wound making contact with the water, but he once again felt himself absorbed by the different in size of both your, and his hand. You grabbed the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink, rummaging through it, and shortly after wrapped a bandaid around Lycaon's finger. The shame Lycaon felt in this moment was almost unbearable for him. His guilt sending an ice cold shiver down his spine, while his face heated up at you doting over him. His ears pressed to his head again and he tried to speak, to at least say something.

But a simple "Thank you" was all that left his mouth.

You sighed heavily, and he feared he had dissapointed you "master I-" you gently shushed him, grabbing his hand, and carefully guided him towards the living room. You sat down, gently patting the spot next to you, urging him to sit. He obliged dispite his discomfort, he knew you ment well even though right now he was afraid what you might say to him. "You know, I always appreciated that I could tell you everything, you always had an open ear for me, and never judged me" you started "and I'm sorry that i haven't shown you my gratitude for that enough" he strongly wanted to object, seeming dissatisfied with you feeling like you had to apologize to him even though it was him who created this mess by refusing to confront himself. "But, I want to become that same kind of person to you too" you gently reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. The contact seeming to immediately relax him a tad bit, just like how his own touch had calmed you. "Just know that I will always have an open ear for you as well, no matter what" he studied your expression, you weren't mad neither dissapointed. Your face radiated a form of certainty, and security, he squeezed your hand tighter. He was conflicted, should he tell you about his feelings now? How would you react? Surely it wouldn't be a good idea if he made you worry with his uncharacteristic antics, just to kiss you.

Kiss you?

Without him even realizing, his heart had acted faster than his brain could worry about the consequences, his lips finding yours in a quick and tender kiss. He quickly moved away, mortified at what he had just done "My sincerest apologies! I don't know what came over me!" He apologized, once again avoided your gaze, feeling the urge to flee. But you gently grabbed his chin, turning his head to look at you. You two looked at eachother for a moment and he finally cracked under your caring gaze."I was jealous, I apologize" he admitted "I had seen you talking with Mr. Walker earlier and thought he may have been... flirting with you" you looked at him, tracing calming circles on his hand with your thumb "why would you be jealous?" You asked carefully "because I-" he stopped for a short moment, taking a deep breath as he summoned the courage to speak the words he's wanted to tell you for so long "I'm in love with you."

you're eyes widened, but you didn't seem apphaled nor insulted by his confession, which set his spiraling mind at ease, even if just for a little "why have you never told me" you asked, internally calling yourself a hypocrite for the exact same reason "I was worried it might cause a scandal, I wouldn't want to ruin what you have worked so hard for, and the friendship we had build" he said "besides I-" he took a deep breath "I thought that maybe it would have been for the best if you had found someone else" he said, his ears once again pressing to his head, clearly betraying how he felt about that statement "why would you think that?" You asked confused, feeling bad for bombarding him with so many uncomfortable questions.

He slouched a bit, a pained expression on his face "Look at me" his hand perched on one of his mechanical knees as a silent way of accentuating the crux of his dilemma, and he once again broke eye contact with you "I'm only half a man" he spoke, the following silence slowly nurturing that weed of doubt that had taken root in his mind. That sentence broke your heart. You knew loosing limbs is awfully traumatic, but you had never fathomed how bad Lycaon's own body dysmorphia really was. And how could you have know, it was a part of him always carefully locked behind his polished and perfect demeanour, shamefully hidden away from the world.

You reached out to him, gently cupped his cheek, and he looked at you again "you have gone through thick and thin with me these last one and a half years, and you always supported me" you started, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb "you may think of yourself as nothing more than half a man..." you smiled at him with the same beautiful smile that would always make butterflies erupt in his stomache, and it seemed to lighten up his dark mood "but to me, you're already my whole world" you confessed, and he held his breath, his brain slowly starting to process your words "does that mean you-" he started and you nodded "I'm in love with you too Lycaon." His eye lightened up at your words, his heart doing jumping jacks in his chest as you held his face in both your hands now, looking deep into his eye "so please, kiss me properly" you said, slowly leaning in, and he obliged immediately "with pleassure, master."

Your lips connected again in a searing and loving kiss, the butterflies in your, and his stomach exploding into fireworks. He cupped the back of your head, deepening the kiss, pulling you closer to him, and you straddled Lycaon's lap in response. His hands were gently perched on your hips, your arms found their way around his neck as you both fully enjoyed the intimate moment you shared with eachother. You heared Lycaon's tail thump against the sofa, while he questioned if this was really happening or if it was just another one of his desperate dreams. And even if it was, then it was the best he has had in a long time.

You two seperated the kiss, still holding eye contact with eachother, both slightly out of breath "damn" you started and he tilted his head a bit to the side, his ear flicking in confusion "you're incredibly handsome, and you're an amazing kisser" you complimented him and he chuckled "a compliment that I'll gladly return in full" he said, burying his face in your neck. His tail moving excitedly from side to side as he held you in his embrace never wanting this moment to end, wanting to hold you forever.

You leaned against his chest "so goldman really didn't bother you" you asked, and Lycaon reached for your hand, gently taking it in his "no don't worry, that cretin hadn't shown his face after you told him off after dinner" he said bemused. You looked at your hand, marveling how much bigger his was than yours "more like you told him off, if I didn't know any better goldman would have almost caught fire by the way you had looked at him" you giggled. He laced his fingers with yours "I'm sorry if my behaviour in that situation has made you uncomfortable" he said, a twinge of guild finding its way back into his voice "don't worry you didn't make me uncomfortable" you said, bringing his hand to your face and planted a kiss on his knuckles "I liked it, the way you stood up for me, and protected me" you blushed a little as you remembered the situation, now realizing that there might have been a twinge of possesiveness in his words as well. He gently laid his head ontop of yours "I also liked how you had stood up for me during yesterday's dinner" he hugged you a bit tighter, tracing little shaped on your hand.

"I admire you you know" you said and he perked up "how so?" He asked you, while you thought about how he had spoken about himself earlier "because, dispite what happened to you, you never gave up, and stayed diligent" you said, hoping your words would soothe that ache of his "you're inspiring" he was speechless, his heartbeat picking up a notch "you give me the strength, and motivation to keep working hard" you gently trace his mechanical knee, his heart was soaring as he watched you "and this doesn't make you ugly, or less of a man, it actually makes you very attractive in my eyes" you admitted "I know I can always count on you, and you can always count on me, you have my word" you finished, looking deep into his eye.

In a flash Lycaon had you pinned to the sofa, his lips once again finding yours. Only this time his kiss was different, it was hungry and lust driven as he used your suprise to push his tongue into your mouth as it moved against yours. The alcohol he had earlier seeming to fuel the fire that still burned in his stomache, as he unbottoned his shirt, exposing his muscled chest to you. He broke the kiss to let you catch your breath, your eyes were wide at his bold action. He gently grabbed your hand, and brought it to his face, placing a kiss on your palm. Then he spoke, low and gentle. You heart skipped several beats as his words left his mouth

"Master, please allow me to make love to you"

---~---

Part 3 ->

To be continued ->

First and foremost, thank you for reading. This chapter was definetly longer than the previous ones, but I wasn't able to split it without ruining the pacing.

Anyways, next chapter will be the Nsfw chapter, and I hope I nailed it. It's not often I write smut.

Lastly, thank you again for reading. I hope you enjoyed.

-Elio

[youngpettyqueen]

here's the thing about world-ending/universe-ending threats in prequels. if that is your entire focus and what all your tension hangs on, then it will not work

all of your tension cant hinge on a universe-ending threat in a prequel because we already know that that universe is going to be ok. just by virtue of being a prequel, there is already no tension there- we know the future of this story. now, you can create tension by focusing on the angle of what happens to the characters- if those characters are not also present in the content the prequel is leading up to

the universe-ending threat in season 2 of Discovery really doesnt work. right from the get-go, we know that things are going to be ok. we know the universe doesnt end here. and, by involving TOS characters, they do unfortunately eliminate some of that tension when it comes to what might happen to the characters. we know Spock doesnt die here. we know Pike and Una dont die here. the writing also doesnt leave a lot of room for me to be worried about the main cast- I honestly dont know if I think this show is capable of permanently killing off anybody on the main cast. we'll see if im proven wrong in that

to compare to another prequel series- I think s3 of Enterprise did this a lot better. we knew the Earth wasn't going to be destroyed. we knew Starfleet wasn't going to be destroyed. but the Xindi plot started with a devastating attack that killed 7 million people- something of that scale is usually the endgame, the very thing the characters are fighting to prevent, but instead it was the beginning. thats a POWERFUL way to introduce a plot like that, especially in a prequel

I think where Enterprise's Xindi plot also got it right was having such a strong focus on the characters. I found a lot of the tension for me personally hinged on seeing just how far the Enterprise crew- especially Archer- would go. how far they wound bend their morals. how much they would break them. for me, thats the real tension in that season. I know the Earth will be fine, but I dont know how far Archer will go to ensure it. innocent people are killed. prisoners are tortured. civilians are attacked and robbed and left stranded. so, while I know ultimately that the Earth is going to survive this and the crew will succeed, im still hooked and asking what comes next because I want to see what this crew will do next. I want to see how far they'll go

im not organizing this as well as I could honestly im just slapping my thoughts at the wall but yeah. as much as I really am enjoying Discovery- its a good show, its not a very good prequel. so far I would consider Enterprise the better prequel series. interested to see where things go now that its not so hindered- 930 years into the future is far beyond anything we've seen from any Trek series so far, so theyre no longer confined by having to be a prequel. looks like we'll finally get to boldly go where no man has gone before!

[bigothteddies]

I think that part of what like. kills me about the whole media literacy and critical thinking aspect of enjoying media these days is that people refuse to like. contextualize that

A. Bad media can still hold significant meaning to people

B. Media made for a demographic you aren’t apart of is not inherently bad media

C. Media made for and consumed by the opposite demographic is not inherently shallow or flawed nor is it above criticism for its media tropes either.

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[annoying--moth]

I find it funny how English classes seem to try to teach you to overanalyze media/look at media super critically, yet some of my least favourite kinds of people are people who are overly critical of media 😭

"Oh but the pacing is the bad and the chatacterization is inconsistent-" who cares, it's fun to watch

[pteropods]

sooo many talking points that i need 2 be like "im saying this in a normal way I promprom im not saying this in a proshipper pedo way I swear I swear"

[dovedrangeas]

the internet is a stupid place because you can see someone get accused of "openly supporting child porn" just because they like. post their works on ao3

[froody]

“I don’t know how to reconcile that my favorite piece of media was made by someone awful.” Because they’re a shitty person who made something good. It’s not that rare of a phenomenon. Shitty people make good things everyday. A piece of art being made by a terrible person does not make its effect null and void and making good art does not redeem a terrible person. People who are irredeemably nasty can say something true and honest on occasion. To reevaluate a work after finding out more about the artist’s horrendous biases and actions and still find things that are honest and true even when consuming it through a critical lens, that is a beautiful thing. If the artist’s actions and words completely destroy it for you and distort the meaning you once found, it’s okay to feel a sense of mourning and loss at that.

This is not to say that you should continue to lavish social and financial capital on the artist because you enjoy their art but to say that enjoying art made by horrible people does not mean you are in some way unclean.

[fuchsiasea]

it’s really scary how people went from being open minded to really conservative in the name of being woke

[honeytonedhottie]

how to keep a dolly mind⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧁

this post is inspired by @arielleslipgloss's post about dolly mindset and i just wanna make my own post about keeping a doll mindset so i hope that u enjoy…💬🎀

WHATS IN UR MIND ;

whats in ur mind manifests. what u think consistently everyday is what u will experience, thats just how the brain works. so if ur thinking positive thoughts, you'll experience positive things but the same is true if u think negative thoughts.

BE POSITIVE ;

affirm. affirm. affirm. if u dont want to experience it, then dont dwell on it. when u spend so much time dwelling on negativity you'll only perpetuate that into ur reality so can we not? be POSITIVE and dwell only on things that u want to manifest and experience.

DONT THINK TOO MUCH ;

with that being said, DONT THINK TOO MUCH. sometimes its good to get out of ur own head and just affirm positively on autopilot. dont spend so much time pondering things that upset you. ofc its important to ponder things that you struggle with because thats how u overcome them, but if u dwell on them too much you'll only perpetuate it. make ur mind a good place to be. dont worry about a thing ♡

dont give others the power to make u uncomfortable in ur own mind. dont dwell on other people's negative opinions or criticism, dont be consumed by a situationship. the center of ur universe should be you, you and YOU.

HOW TO MAKE UR OWN DOLLHOUSE (IN UR MIND) ;

this section is inspired by something that i read about in the book pyscho cybernetics and essentially the idea is that u create a space in ur mind that is completely and wholly yours. a place that u can go when u need a breather and i though it was just ADORABLE.

so create ur own dollhouse in ur mind. how i did this was i focused on my 5 senses and i imagined myself creating a space for myself. once i was done imagining it, i imagined myself walking into it and just relaxing in it.

♡ i imagine a cute room (pretty large) with baby pink wallpaper

♡ i imagine a balcony with fresh flowers and a cute pink chair

♡ pink drapes DUH

♡ plush couches with leopard print throw pillows and cashmere blankets

♡ very 90's hollywood mansion inspired with cute dolly music playing softly in the background

and whenever i want to i just imagine myself walking into this space and relaxing on the couch. painting my nails, doing a face mask or just talking to myself and its so soothing…💬🎀

WHAT SHOULD CONSUME UR THOUGHTS ;

♡ shopping

♡ glitter

♡ self pampering

♡ your education

♡ YOUR FUTURE (the most important one btw)

♡ urself and ur future

WHAT SHOULDN'T CONSUME UR THOUGHTS ;

♡ toxicity from any source (bad friends, social media etc)

♡ the past

♡ jealousy

♡ and anything that u DONT want to manifest

THINGS THAT CAN HELP UR MIND ;

if u find it particularly difficult to stay positive or ur just going through a hard time, first of all know that ur NOT alone and things will always get better 💗 some things that can help ur state of mind can include ->

getting a full 8-10 hours of sleep every night, staying hydrated and eating a balanced diet, getting sunlight and fresh air everyday, journalling and other forms of self expression. and to finish off this post i wanna leave u guys with some dolly affirmations to live ur best dolly life 💗

🧁 i am so flawless from head to toe

🎀 i am absolutely in love with myself, and why WOULDN'T i be?

🧁 i manifest instantly

🎀 i am more than capable of anything that i want to do

🧁 i am gorgeous on the inside and on the outside

🎀 im just SUCH a ray of sunshine and beauty to everything and everyone

[gothhabiba]

The 2023 Barbie film is a commercial. I’m sure it will be fun, funny, delightful, and engaging. I will watch it, and I’ll probably even dress up to go to the theater. Barbie is also a film made by Mattel using their intellectual property to promote their brand. Not only is there no large public criticism of this reality, there seems to be no spoken awareness of it at all. I’m sure most people know that Barbie is a brand, and most people are smart enough to know this and enjoy the film without immediately driving to Target to buy a new Barbie doll. After all, advertising is everywhere, and in our media landscape of dubiously disclosed User Generated Content and advertorials, at least Barbie is transparently related to its creator. But to passively accept this reality is to celebrate not women or icons or auteurs, but corporations and the idea of advertising itself. Public discourse around Barbie does not re-contextualize the toy or the brand, but in fact serves the actual, higher purpose of Barbie™: to teach us to love branding, marketing, and being consumers.

[...] The casting of Gerwig’s Barbie film shows that anyone can be a Barbie regardless of size, race, age, sexuality. Barbie is framed as universal, as accessible; after all, a Barbie doll is an inexpensive purchase and Barbiehood is a mindset. Gerwig’s Barbie is a film for adults, not children (as evidenced by its PG-13 rating, Kubrick references, and soundtrack), and yet it manages to achieve the same goals as its source material: developing brand loyalty to Barbie™ and reinforcing consumerism-as-identity as a modern and necessarily empowering phenomenon. Take, for example, “Barbiecore,” an 80s-inspired trend whose aesthetic includes not only hot pink but the idea of shopping itself. This is not Marx’s theory on spending money for enjoyment, nor can it even be critically described as commodity fetishism, because the objects themselves bear less semiotic value compared to the act of consumption and the identity of “consumer.”

[...] Part of the brilliance of the Barbie brand is its emphasis on having fun; critiquing Barbie’s feminism is seen as a dated, 90s position and the critic as deserving of a dated, 90s epithet: feminist killjoy. It’s just a movie! It’s just a toy! Life is so exhausting, can’t we just have fun? I’ve written extensively about how “feeling good” is not an apolitical experience and how the most mundane pop culture deserves the most scrutiny, so I won’t reiterate it here. But it is genuinely concerning to see not only the celebration of objects and consumer goods, but the friendly embrace of corporations themselves and the concept of intellectual property, marketing, and advertising. Are we so culturally starved that insurance commercials are the things that satiate our artistic needs?

— Charlie Squire, “Mattel, Malibu Stacy, and the Dialectics of the Barbie Polemic.” evil female (Substack), 2023.

[dumbsoftheart]

pas de deux

pairing: ballerina!reader x university!coriolanus snow

tags: 18+, mdni. dub-con, semi-public sex, oral sex (fem receiving), creampie, vaginal sex, dirty talk, power play, manipulation

summary: corio is tasked with writing an exposé on his university’s prized ballet student for the school’s newsletter.

notes: self indulging on my perfectionism being ruined for coryo’s self-pleasure!

word count: 4.9k

౨ׅৎ

coriolanus hated this assignment with the same fervour and passion he hated writing for his school’s publication. the only reason he’d even applied for the position was because he knew of the ways it would put him on the scene- articles and reviews with his name plastered over them were unavoidable to anyone who had half a brain to engage in thoughtful composition. he enjoyed writing critical pieces on political discourse or literature, anything that challenged him to peel back the layers of society and dissect it, persuade others to align with his mode of thinking, so the mere thought of his byline etched onto an article about ballet- of all things- made him want to curl up and die. he tried oh so desperately to pass on the assignment to one of his female partners, and even tried his hand at requesting his supervisor for a new assignment entirely, but he was coldly dismissed and cast away to the hallowed halls of the university's dance studio. he didn't notice how frustrated he’d actually felt until he flinched behind the sound of the studio door slamming behind him, clashing uglily with the buzzing noise of music that flooded his eardrums. it was unnecessarily loud, but he knew you could hear him enter. his jaw clenched the more you ignored his presence. 

instead, you focused on the strains of music you’d become uncomfortably accustomed to. the melodic rhythm of the cantilena you choreographed to consumed your body in a symphony of music. each note was dictated thoughtfully with the graceful movements you now begrudgingly danced for the stranger, weaving a story that transcended words, one only understood through the language of dance. as you traversed the space, your movements harmonised seamlessly with the refined tune, a testament to the years of dedication and passion you poured into this art form. you grew frustrated at the way his presence clashed discordantly against the elegance of your dancing and disrupted the harmony of the room. you watched in the corner of your eye how he marched his way to the centre of the room, lingering only a few steps behind you as you danced. you caught him clear his throat one, two, then three times. it grated against your patience, forcing you to stop dancing abruptly and march past him with the same conviction as he did to shut off the music, a huff escaping your lips at the sudden quiet as you stared expectantly at the tall boy before you. you watched his fists clench and then flex before he turned to face you, his pearly blond hair falling ever so slightly out of place from the speed at which he’d turned on his heel. 

"can i help you?" the words slipped from your lips, delivered with a flatness that barely concealed the tinge of annoyance behind it. your hand found its place resting on your hip, a subtle gesture reinforcing your composed stance, determined to maintain an air of indifference. 

“coriolanus snow. i’ve been assigned to write a review on you and your dancing for the university newsletter,” his introduction sounded pompous, as though he assumed you already knew of his identity. of course, you knew the name very well- his reputation preceded him. you couldnt deny that you too had once or twice been privy to the occasional swooning over the quite popular boy, but you found that now as he stood in front of you, tall and beautiful as he was, you felt a growing discontent for the man and his obnoxiously bright hair. yet, you clung fiercely to the facade of ignorance, a guise of disinterest veiling the curiosity that lingered beneath the surface. you held your head high, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of acknowledging his perceived importance in your realm of artistry. 

you pretended to think before a moment, before turning back to the speaker and switching the sound back on, gesturing for him to sit. you rolled your eyes at his request to turn the volume down. despite you hating everything that had to do with this review, you were aware of the potential impact this coverage had on your burgeoning career. you acquiesced, lowering the volume to appease his demand, a concession made not out of respect for the boy but rather with your future in mind. you knew the power coriolanus held with his words, as much as you hated it, and you knew you couldn't risk jeopardising your future at the sake of a little attitude. 

so, with an inward sigh and a curt nod, you allowed him to observe. you positioned yourself within the room as you waited to pick up on the rhythm of the music where you left off, quickly finding your place among the complexities of the song in a manner that seemed impossible had it not been for your tireless work and memorization of every single note and harmony of the song. 

as snow observed your movements, he jotted down comments in a small leatherbound notebook, his pen scrawling his disdain. "lacks depth," he muttered under his breath, pausing to look up pensively at your figure.

the comment caught you so off guard it took every bit of strength in you to not fall with the abruptness at which you stopped. lacks depth? what the hell would he know? you felt rage burn inside your chest, only fueled by the way he stared at you as if he had said nothing wrong. 

“what about my dance lacks depth, snow?” the question hung in the air, and you watched his adams apple bob up and down through the mirror as he swallowed, glancing briefly at his notes before looking back up at you. 

"the dance is fine, quite beautiful, i might say, but your movements lack the emotional vibrancy expected from a performance of this calibre," he responded, "there's an absence of connection, it feels superficial and fails to convey the intended depth of expression."

he spoke with a measured confidence, and you scrunched your brows at his words. you didnt expect him to know the first thing about ballet, and you still stood by that sentiment, but part of you wondered if he was speaking truthfully- a consequence of the sensitivity you harbour in relation to your artistry. dance was everything, and while ballet trained you to accustom yourself to harsh criticism, you always held those criticisms to your heart, and it pushed you to always do better than you had before. 

despite this, your shoulders never slumped, nor did you show any physical acknowledgement to his critique, only moving to turn your gaze from his cobalt eyes in the mirror to look him in them truly, strutting your way back to the speaker and restarting the song, determined to prove him wrong. 

“you restart the song when you feel i’m ‘lacking depth’, so i can know whether or not to call bullshit.” 

the two of you went at it for a while. he only gave you a few seconds at first before he continuously restarted the song, but you danced for him nonetheless. over, and over again. when you thought you’d finally caught him, he’d restart the song a few seconds later, and it took everything in you to not scream in frustration at the top of your lungs. you wanted to strangle him, in truth, especially when you caught a glance at his smirk the 12th time he’d restarted the music. 

it was nearly midnight by the time he’d given you some respite, and you made no effort to be hospitable as you collected your things and stormed out the door without a word. you pretended to ignore the scribbles on his notebook as you rushed passed him, unable to make sense of the haphazard writing. you hated him. the way he seemed to try seize control of your creative space and your studio made you go mad. additionally, you were convinced he was only trying to get under your skin, and you hated that it worked- even if you refused to show it (or more appropriately, tried not to show it, because coriolanus reveled in the fact that he did, in fact, get under your skin). 

coriolanus, on the other hand, walked out of the studio feeling quite prideful. he adored the effect he had on you: how despite his ignorance on your mastered art, he absorbed the control in the room. he adored seeing you struggle to keep up to his standards, watching your face twist with effort as you danced over and over again, all for him. watching the muscles of your shoulders and legs flex, the arches of your back and neck, the way you exposed yourself to him repeatedly- it festered a strange desire in him to tear you apart. you were so meticulous with how you danced that it made you look fragile. with every twist and turn of your body coriolanus felt his breath catch in his throat as if he were afraid if you moved slightly too much, you would shatter. only, he wanted to be the one to break you: tear away that meticulousness and precision built into you and mould it in a way that was perfectly suited for him. he wanted to dismantle that untouchable image you carried, strip you away of your elegance and create a dependence that would tether you to him alone. it made him care about your performance more than he wanted to admit. not because he cared for you, per se, and your success, but because he’d developed a carnal urge to shape you into perfection solely for his own satisfaction. knowing that onstage, your dance was now catered just for him, to his own liking? the thought made coriolanus’s pants grow tight with lust. 

the week progressed following the same routine: he would sit and watch you overwork yourself at his beck and call until your eyes filled with tears of anger and your body would give out and he’d leave you panting on the dance room floor, killing yourself until you got it just right. the boy was acutely aware of the mental struggles that accompanied ballet- the pursuit of perfection, the strive for excellence, the intensity of the competition and the pressure to excel. he knew how hardly you critiqued yourself and used it to his advantage; knowing if he played his cards right, soon enough he’d have you wrapped around his finger, begging him for that validation you needed to keep going. 

your performance was on saturday, and the way you worked yourself over the dreadful symphony of music had you lacking sleep. you couldn’t stop- even after you and coriolanus parted ways. you found yourself practising in your dorm room, counting steps on your way to class- you knew deep down that coriolanus’s article really meant nothing, as the man knew nothing about what he asked of you, and your success wasn’t at all tied to his review; but you were unable to stop. a voice nagged at you that it did matter. that somehow his influence could ruin you and everything you’d worked for. you knew how badly he was getting to you when the two of you crossed paths on your way to class. 

he took in the sight of you: your hair done perfectly, not a single hair misplaced, your pink tights and leotard, the pink cover-up skirt you adorned neatly wrapped around your waist with a perfect bow. he took in your lips, swollen and red from the anxious biting you’d fallen into the habit of doing again, the way you messily tried to cover up your dark under eyes with concealer and draw attention away from it with haphazards amount of blush. in passing, you’d simply given him a nod, but he was quick to grab you, looping his finger under your chin and forcing you to stare into those piercing cobalt eyes of his as he studied you. 

“you should wear white instead. pink washes you out,” he mumbled to you before turning away, his tall figure disappearing into one of the lecture halls behind you. had it been a few days prior, you would’ve found it in you to bite back. only now, you bit at your manicured fingernails as you dragged your fingers across the silky white pointe shoes in your favourite dancewear boutique, followed by the white leotard and tights you brought home with you that night.

 

౨ׅৎ

“i need a break,” you sighed. it was the night before your performance, and only now did coryo have the decency to step back for a moment in his unrelenting pursuit of perfecting you. he nodded, shutting off the music as he watched you saunter towards your dance bag, downing half the contents of your water bottle with short pants. he stood to meet you, making his way behind you and resting his slender fingers on your tense shoulders. 

“whats bothering you, bunny?” the pet name sent a small shiver down your spine, and coriolanus threw his head back slightly at the feeling of you shudder, gathering all his strength to contain himself. you turned to face him, and he felt his dick harden at the vulnerability in your eyes. the fire that once burned behind them was fizzling, and he could tell. your mouth was parted as you searched for the right thing to say, but the words caught in your throat. 

“is it the dance?” he pressed, his face now dangerously close to yours, and you croaked out a small yes as his hand made its way up to your hair, his thumb stroking it gently, “you know it’s perfect, darling, you and i have been making it perfect all week long, no? show me which part is bothering you.” 

your head spun as he spoke to you- his fingers stroking your hair, the way his voice was now all of a sudden so soft; contrary to the stern way he’d spoken to you all week. but what really dizzied you was the sudden validation he’d given you. the casual way he threw it at you; as if it was what was known all along, as if you were crazy to think otherwise. 

you stumbled back towards the centre of the room, slowly positioning yourself as you waited for his go-ahead, form snapping into movement as soon as the music filled your ears. you watched in the mirror as coriolanus paced behind you, his chin in his hand as he watched you and pondered. your eyes closed with focus, moving with such ease that it felt second nature to you. then, the music seized, and you froze in place as you raised your head to look up at the man now in front of you. 

“you’re too tense,” he murmured, moving to press his hands into the soft skin of your shoulders, massaging the strained muscle gently. it did nothing at getting you to relax. inside, you were fuming as you replayed the past week in your head. you’d worked yourself dry all for the approval of a man whose opinion you couldn’t care less about. you let your guard down for a sliver of a moment and he used it to get inside your head. you hated him with every fibre in your being, and his breathing down your neck only fueled the fire burning inside of you. 

“get off of me.”

“just relax.” the way he whispered it was short of anything kind, spat at you with annoyance as he tightened his grip on you.

“i said get off!” it was the loudest you’d spoken all day. it was barely a shout, but it was enough for the man to recoil from behind you. you breathed shakily, hands trembling at your side. when you turned to face him, you nearly flinched at the sight of him. his usually perfectly combed back hair was now a mess, curls fallen out of place as he ran his hand through the golden strands harshly. you both stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity, panting heavily, waiting for the other to say or do anything to loosen the tension that filled the studio air. 

he looked down at the floor for a second, tonguing his cheek with a smile before surging forward, crashing his chapped lips into your plump, soft ones with a groan. you tried to push him away, but his grip on your face was too strong- and you couldn’t ignore the way your legs turned to jelly from the way he kissed you with an undying hunger. one hand made its way down your waist as he moved you backwards into the large studio mirror, your head thumping painfully against the glass, pain mixing with pleasure as coryo attacked your lips and dragged his hands all over your body, savouring the warmth of your skin through the fabric of your garments. 

“so good for me,” he groaned against your neck, the hot breath of his words sending shivers straight down to your core, “so perfect.. so pliable.. all for me. isnt that right, princess?” 

it was truly embarrassing, the way his words made you moan softly and rub your thighs together with want. embarrassing how compliant you’d become for him, how eager you were to please him. he took notice of the pathetic state you were in, watching with glossy and swollen lips how your legs trembled and your hips stuttered in a desperate attempt to gain friction against your growing heat. 

“look at that, so fucking precious,” he continued to watch you struggle, laughing softly to himself before snaking his hand between your thighs, cupping your cunt and slowly encouraging you to rock your hips back and forth. you whined at the contact, relief and pleasure swarming you as you ground yourself into the palm of his hand, gripping tightly onto the curls at the back of his head for leverage. lost in bliss, you barely noticed when the man made his way down to his knees, lip bitten so hard you swore you could smell the metallic scent of blood peer through your senses as he toyed his fingers across your clothed cunt. you moved to remove your small skirt, untying the meticulous bow around your waist and tossing it to the side. when your hand reached to remove your leotard, coriolanus removed his hand with a small chuckle. 

“what do you think you’re doing?” he tutted, and you whined at the sight of him below you, willing and able to keep pleasuring you but withholding that power. you scrunched your brows together with confusion, and coriolanus thought you’d never looked so beautiful: face flushed with heat, writhing above him while your hips urged for his fingers to touch you again. too lost in the pleasure that lingered, head thrashing from side to side with pleads to keep going- he wanted to ruin you. 

“good girls wait and do what they’re told. are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he chuckled at the way you shook your head aggressively, savouring your small moans as he returned his hand to where you wanted it most. a loud gasp escaped your lips when he ripped your tights viciously, the soft torn fabric now giving him better access to the skin of your thighs. he splayed his hands over them, massaging your muscles and soft tissue before pulling your leotard to the side and diving his tongue into the wetness of your folds. 

he pulled back with a moan, gasping as he peered down at the mixture of his spit and your slick connecting your cunt to his chin, and he looked up at you like you were a god, sticky and wet from the most trivial of touches. 

“you’re so wet for me, princess- such a good girl. you’re so good for me,” you couldn't get a word out before he took a long swipe with the flat of his tongue, lapping messily and so, so loudly- chasing the taste of you. he loved teasing you with his mouth. he thought about it that day, unashamed as he jerked his cock into nothingness when he caught sight of you on campus earlier that day, dressed all in white- just for him. the small gesture was enough confirmation to him that he’d won at the game you two were playing, that you let him break you into submission and you were now his to claim. the thought of taking ownership of you by reducing you to nothingness with his tongue alone had him cumming onto his stomach with a loud, broken cry. now, he had you right where he wanted- and he wasn’t going to let that pass just yet. 

he relished every sound and movement you made when he flicked his tongue up and down your lips, relished the tears that fell when he slowly circled it around your swollen clit, rejoiced in the way you gripped his curls tighter when he tongued your hole, gazing up at your already fucked out faced with pure lust and admiration when you came undone and released yourself into his mouth. he continued to lap and suck every moan and whine out of you until you cried with overstimulation. he stood up, licking his lips and stared down at you like a predator who’d hunted its prey. 

“you did so good for me, bunny,” he mewled, kissing your neck softly as you came down from your high. you had started to gain back your senses, and a wave of humiliation washed over you. the man you claimed to hate had just given you the best orgasm of your life, and suddenly you could no longer find it in you to hate him again. every fibre in your body ached when he praised you, called you good and cooed in your ear as you regained your strength. you continued to cry, no longer out of pleasure but in self-disappointment. you felt the urge to scream and lash out at him for robbing you of your senses, for reducing you to a state where the tiniest shred of approval clouded every bit your perspectives until you couldn’t figure out left from right. he continued to coo in your ear as you sobbed, but your eyes widened with fear when you heard the small sound of a zipper and looked down to see his cock in his hands, pumping slowly as he made his way into you. 

he shushed every one of your protests, his lips pressed tight against your collarbone as you tried to push away from him when his tip made contact with your hole, “be good, bunny, be good for me,” he chanted into your skin and your body broke down into more sobs as you willingly let him push into you. alarms were blaring in your head for you to stop giving into him, but your body was unrelenting and begging with want- and so all you did was cry as he thrust slowly into you, small moans of praise nonsensically falling from his lips as your cunt struggled to take all of him in. 

the way he mumbled his sweet words into your neck and the slow stretch of his cock prying you open had your brain short-circuiting, the sweet tone of his voice once again making you lose all sense of what was unfolding before you. you winced as he tried to thrust his length deeper into you. 

coriolanus didn’t like that. he took the sounds of complaint as direct disobedience. he wanted to hear nothing but your begging- he wanted you to thank him for letting you have his cock, and hear nothing but your loud moans and pathetic mewls as he fucked you. he grabbed at your bun, yanking your head back with such force that the once perfectly smoothed back hair came undone painfully, strands falling to your face and wisping at your shoulders. 

“does it hurt?” he asked, and for a moment you thought he was trying to take you with care, but when you nodded and his grip tightened on your hair, you knew you were oh so wrong, “i thought i told you to be a good, fucking. girl.” 

he thrusted into you harshly with each word and you cried out in pain, his cock stretching you out far beyond what you could handle, overstimulation making your knees buckle and tears fall from your eyes again. 

“thats it, baby. take it, be a good girl and take my cock.” 

your fingers dug into his back and coriolanus let out a loud, lewd moan, unable to peel his eyes away from the sight of his cock thrusting without preamble into the slick mess of your cunt. he threw his head back as you moaned through your cries, and thrusted even harder when you wrapped a leg around him to let him fuck you even deeper. 

he moved to rip off the top of your leotard, licking his lips hungrily as he watched your tits fall and bounce in tandem with his thrusts. he dove his head down, latching his lips onto your hardened nipple and sucking harshly, nipping and biting the soft flesh while his hand pinched and flicked at the other one. 

you were incoherent. your stop’s had turned into more’s and your sobs turned into that of pure desire. you threw your head to the side and gasped at the spectacle the two of you were making of yourselves in the middle of the dance studio. the mirror you were pressed up against had begun to fog up along the silhouette of your body pressed up against it, the cool glass dripping condensation onto your back and through your ruined clothes as coryo fucked you into oblivion. he looked right at you now, his fingers making their way to lace into yours as he pressed you even closer to him, your arms now bound against the coolness of the mirror. 

“fuck, princess, you’re so fucking tight. so tight for me, yeah? gonna make this pussy mine,” your head spun with his words and the constant pumping of his cock, unable to contain the obscene sounds you let out. you were so close, and the way you tightened around him as you chased your release almost had him cumming prematurely. 

“you gonna let me make you mine, huh bunny?”

“fuck, yes!” 

“s’at right? gonna let me claim you? such a good girl.” 

you moved your hips against his with no rhythm, simply in pursuit of the orgasm that coiled in the pit of your stomach. you kept your eyes on his, your mouth open with pants as you urged him to keep going. he hiked one hand behind the knee you had wrapped around him, the other one pulling you up so you were off the ground, letting him fuck you in a way that hit all the right spots in all the right places, and you just about lost it right there. 

he smiled, “you like that?”

“uh-huh..”

“you want me to keep going?”

“please- please dont stop, coryo, please!” 

his cries got louder, moans twisting up into a slightly higher octave, his face scrunched with pleasure as your cunt clenched around him with each of his words. 

“gonna fill you up with my cum, baby. is that what you want? for me to breed you?” he babbled, voice trembling, “gonna fuck you full of cum ‘n make you mine. no one else can have you.” his voice got weaker as his hips pivoted upwards to thrust even deeper. he was in complete in control of you; his elbows hooked beneath your knees and opening a new gateway to your soul.

“naughty fucking girl, huh? ‘s alright, good girls get to be naughty sometimes..”

“i’m gonna cum,” you whined pathetically, rambling over and over as it was the only thing you could think of. you were so close, and each word he groaned at you brought you infinitely closer. 

“you wanna cum?”

“i want- i want it so bad.”

“s’at right?”

“please, coryo- god, please! ‘m gonna be good for you. so good for you, daddy—”

your words collapsed into meaningless cries and shattered sentences— fuckyesyesyes— and cumonmycockbaby— as you worked each other towards release. you pulled him deeper to your center, tightening around him as the coil in your stomach finally burst and you saw white. you both came with a loud moan, yours no doubt shattering through the walls of the confined space, and coriolanus released his load into you with a long, droned out fuuuuuck as he slowly pumped his cum into you, mesmerised by the way it mixed and swirled with the mess of your own release. you whined at the overstimulation, body still jerking from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but coriolanus only felt himself grow harder. 

“coryo, i cant..”

he snapped up at you, gaze softening as he took in your tear stained and fucked out face. he took your face in one hand, squeezing your jaw tightly and admiring the slight cross-eyed look you had on and the dribble of spit falling from your perfect lips. he cocked his head to the side, smiling coyly. 

“oh, bunny, you don’t have a choice..” 

౨ׅৎ

@dumbsoftheart, 2023

[decolonize-the-everything]

I've noticed a rise in radfems/TERFs in feminism tags and more specifically trying to rebrand as The Real Feminism or True Feminism since it's "for the girlies" or whatever.

I am begging you all to help me bury them.

Because as a teen who grew up during the peak of exclusionary "bi/pan/aces aren't vaild" and "kill all men" era where the concept of misandry THRIVED I'm telling you this feels extremely similar.

And radfem/terf ideology got mainstream from those sentiments being so popular and so easy to tap into. It was framed as being righteous since men were oppressors.

"Women are good and men are just mean oppressors! Look at everything they've done!" is such a common sentiment in those circles.

It also completely lacks critical feminist thought.

And we're STILL dealing with the affects of it over a decade later.

.....So let's talk about JKR since she's currently the Figurehead and favorite of the movement that's trying to rewrite feminist history.

It's 2023. It's a year before a US election where Project 2025 and Trump would happily create a road for trans and queer folks to be imprisoned if not worse.

Which is I'm sure why JKR has been photographed and interacting with multiple members from The Heritage Foundation, people whove spoken for them, and people who attended theyre meetings. She even enjoyed watching Magdalen, who who she credits for becoming a TERF.

But do you know who Magdalen is? Or what else she was saying? What about any of the other people in the photo? Do you know the scope of what JKR was internalizing and how bad it was? Do you know she has ties to conservative anti-abortion groups?

Do you know what The Heritage Foundation? Probably not and they're the worst so let me tell you why it's such a huge red flag for her and other so-called TERFs and radfems to be associated with them.

Because I can tell you right now she heard a lot of things from those people and there is no fucking way in hell that it was just about queer people or just some sex-specific concerns. And it wasn't just passive bigotry.

Anyone who doesn't conform to the idea of a white, straight nuclear family (re: single mothers, leftists, immigrants, gay couples, etc) is made out to be an enemy of the state.

Anyone they can justify as a "national threat." Yes, they call us all a national threat on their site, their book, and the pamphlets they pass out to politicians. The details are listed on their website including the Mandate For Leadership which is their instruction guide for the next president.

I'm not exaggerating when I say it calls for genocide, prison camps, and eugenic cleansing.

Several people in that photo don't even support abortion, a basic women's rights that JKR claims to care about deeply.

JKR was consuming white supremacist dogma under the guise of feminism.

And she's not willing to admit or correct it which is where the problem lies. She won't even admit to herself that she was fooled or that it's bad or hypocritical.

My concern is that she is not the only person who's fallen for it and there are more everyday.

So it's very important to me y'all learn how to filter out what Actual Feminism is in this age where literal fascism is attempting to take its place.

Firstly,

Real, actual feminism will be welcoming to EVERYONE

Because the patriarchy doesn't only affect women or cis people or white women and it's an insult to every previous feminist icon to say otherwise.

Feminists have been fighting for decades to unite people under the concept that Patriarchy is a system that will be brought down with allyship and solidarity.

They've been fighting so hard and so long to prove that everyone deserves the same rights as men.

That women are just as capable as men and shouldn't be stopped from entering fields of study and sports dominated by men. They've been fighting to prove that women are just as capable and smart as any man is, that men would benefit from it dismantling patriarchy too.

Women fought side by side with the queer community to get Roe v Wade passed in 1973. You know why? Because despite what radfems and TERFs will tell you trans women benefit from protecting and standing up for bodily autonomy.

Do not let bigots tear drive a wedge between two groups that experience gender based oppression and would benefit from the same exact rights.

We have changed history together and they're terrified we'll do it again.

A screenshot from the largest feminist organization active right now, The National Organization of Women.

Notice how the T is included. They even posted this video two years ago when LGBT and specifically trans rights started really coming under attack in 2022.

Trans women are women.

Trans men are men.

ALL women deserve rights.

Every gender deserves equality and fairness.

And feminism is for all of us or it is for none of us.

Because nobody deserves to be treated the way patriarchy treats us.

[collapsedsquid]

What then is the explanation? Why do workers typically push for more consumption rather than for shorter hours? Here I think Cohen’s argument is untypically unclear. He tells us that workers do indeed want more goods (other things being equal) but it is also plain that they dislike the toil then need to engage in to get those goods and evidences that claim by making the point that if workers were granted money such that they didn’t need to work at their jobs, very few of them would choose to do so gratis, and there would be a dramatic decline in the amount of work done. His suggestion seems to be that since there is a permanent propaganda campaign in support of people getting more stuff and no corresponding campaign in favour of free time of the kind one can enjoy without extra spending, extra consumption always has a salience for people that additional leisure lacks. I think Cohen’s uncharacteristically feeble discussion of this point can be explained in part by a blindspot in his thinking. First of all, he neglects the way in which states support and encourage consumer spending and simultaneously encourage a culture of work and effort through moralizing campaigns, stigmatization of “shirkers” and the like. Take the first of these elements: states help establish and support structures of lending to help people to do things like buy their own homes and then furnish their homes. They do this in a variety of ways, by providing support to banks and other financial institutions but also by giving borrowers all kinds of tax breaks. In order to buy the things they want, consumers have little choice but to borrow, but once they have borrowed they have to repay and repaying requires income, which requires work. Now perhaps workers could simply refuse the blandishments of capital and refuse to borrow in order to consume and then the option to work less would be more available to them. But I think this neglects the competitive and social aspects of consumption that Cohen rather dismissively refers to as “keeping up with the Joneses”. One need not be of a particularly competitive or comparative disposition to be caught up in social standards of self-presentation that are inherently comparative in nature, as Adam Smith knew in that famous passage about labourers being ashamed to appear in public without a linen shirt or, in some countries, leather shoes.

Still feels like everyone's discourse on consumerism & capitalism is stuck in the 1960s, he criticizes Cohen's view and maybe I'm out of touch but this doesn't feel much better. Maybe because the only people who write on consumerism are petite-bourgeoisie who unlike most people do live like this.

Speaking as a member of the salaried class, while I do appreciate the gee-gaws I am able to purchase with my full-time job, speaking as I believe a somewhat representative member of the professional-managerial class I am more concerned with rent, health insurance, and the ability to hopefully retire at some point, and these guide my financial decisions. I purchase some fun stuff I didn't choose my career to be able to afford a fancier grill. I crave the respectability of not living in a van.

Now there Is perhaps a discussion of how I could move to somewhere cheaper like Montana or Spain and why I don't do that but if you're going to discuss this issue I think you gotta address issues like that directly

[burquillos]

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the final MHA chapter because the internet seems to be very divided

I waited till MHA officially ended! Long post ahead!! People being divided on the ending makes sense. Different people come to watch shows and read comics for very different reasons and with very different expectations for an ending in mind. Especially for a series like MHA which is a battle manga that seeks to subvert shonen genre tropes.

I think part of the reason why people are so divided on it right now is because of leak culture and reaction culture. People have to remember that comic books and manga are a storytelling medium. The author actually thinks about the arrangement of the panels, what’s in the panels, and how the combination of these things can form a narrative. Reading it from twitter thread/discords from people in a rush to translate to get the information to you as fast as possible is NOT the intended way to experience the story.

The “leak format” kind of encourages people to put too much focus on certain panels and roughly translated text that would otherwise feel very different when you are reading the story through the intended medium, and when you pair that with the highly reactive way people ‘consume content’ nowadays, the result is a snowball of very volatile emotions being thrown around without a moment for people to breathe, think, and wonder for themselves “Why did the author write it like this? Was there something I missed? How does this re-contextualize story? Have I actually missed the point this whole time?” etc.

That being said, I sort of have a philosophical way of approaching MHA?? When I got back to it again, I was hyper-critical of it especially because I just came back from reading One Piece (and the writing styles and messages are VERY different). I slowly learned to judge the writing for what it is rather than keep comparing it to other series and I learned it was more enjoyable to experience the story like that.

The ending is a very hard pill to swallow for a lot of people which is understandable, but it didn’t come out of nowhere. I mean, just look at the ending lines of "Do Not Be Defeated by Rain", the poem that inspired Deku’s character:

I am also a stubbornly optimistic person, and my number one rule is never to engage with anything in bad faith. I CHOOSE to see hope through the margins and the final chapter being so open to potential encourages that thinking of mine.

So even though I think there are some things that could be handled better (the villains) and storylines I WISH were explored (OFA vestiges my beloved) there’s no reason why it couldn’t be fixed.

There is this openness to it that leaves so much room for hope and imagination that I can’t truly be mad at it.

I might find MHA lacking as an entertainment piece, but I will defend it to the end as an artistic piece.

Horikoshi has said before that he doesn’t care if his manga is popular or not, MHA is basically a culmination of the stuff he enjoys, and I KNOW drawing whatever the hell you want despite knowing not everyone will like it takes a lot of guts and it’s what makes MHA so human.

All the traces of him are in there, flaws and everything, so you can endlessly turn it around, flip back and forth and there will be always something new to unpack, learn, and realize and the thought of what could've been will always haunt people (just like Star Wars, a series he also likes kajdbaldnlk)