Prompt - "I haven't exactly done this before."
(ANON I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE HERE FOR BUT I HOPE IT WAS THIS AND ALSO I HOPE YOU AREN'T TAZ, LMAO; nsfw, under the cut)
Hook's hands still after he slides down, knees hitting the carpet. His fingers tremble ever so slightly along Danhausen's waist, a whisper along the bare skin there. His eyes flicker up, half-hidden beneath the tangles of his hair, and oh, if that isn't enough to curl Danhausen's toes in his boots. He can't believe he's been given this, honestly; can't believe that he was chosen to end up here, on the receiving end of such a gift.
"What is it?" Danhausen asks, a little out of breath; he cords his hands through Hook's unruly strands in a move that he hopes is allowed, hopes is acceptable. He wants to touch Hook. He wants to feel him.
Hook's mouth quirks to the side when he huffs out a self-conscious laugh. "I, uh, haven't exactly done this before."
That stills Danhausen's hands from their ministrations. He freezes. "What?"
"Um." Hook runs his tongue over his lip, red and swollen from Danhausen's attentions earlier. Hook had tasted like salt, tiny remnants that burst along Danhausen's tongue from the fries they'd shared. "Is that...is that okay?"
"Hook doesn't have to," Danhausen tries, thoughts racing to catch up. "Danhausen doesn't—"
"No, I want to," Hook says. His grip on Danhausen's hips tightens. He's nervous; he doesn't have a lot of tells, but Danhausen has started to pick them out, notice the way they slink onto his motions. He rarely sees Hook nervous. To think he is the reason for the emotion breaking free and rattling in Hook's limbs is, frankly, overwhelming.
"I want to," Hook repeats, softer. Almost a whisper, almost reverent; Danhausen is struck all over again: why me? Of all people to choose, of all the possibilities, and Danhausen is the one here with him, looking down at how blown his pupils are, how wet his lips are, how eager his eyes are shining. Maybe Danhausen will never get quite this lucky again. Maybe this is the peak, the high he'll end up chasing the rest of his life.
Hook keeps their gazes locked, a dusting of pink along his cheeks. He slides his tongue out across his lip, dipping into the corner, and Danhausen tracks the movements unconscious, abdomen clenching. "Just, uh, give me some direction?"
"Okay," Danhausen promises. His hands are already fisted in Hook's hair: that will serve.
Hook smiles, languid and sharp and excited, hovering at the edge of the same anticipation. And then he leans in, brushing his mouth to the tip of Danhausen's cock enough to drag a groan out of Danhausen's throat, teasing with his tongue in slow circles, experimental, learning the lay of the land. It never even matters that he ends up almost gagging himself a few times, that he has to pull off a few times to cork his jaw around to avoiding locking it, that he chokes when Danhausen comes because he wasn't entirely ready for it—it's the best head Danhausen has ever gotten in his life.
And Danhausen pays it back in spades once he's come back down, gets Hook's heels kicking against the sheets of the hotel mattress, wrenches delicious moans out of Hook's lungs and swallows him down into the same hazy, giddy release, marveling the entire time that he's been chosen to be the one to know the keening whines and the needy hands and the stuttering muscles when there are so many others who would kill for the same opportunity.
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Did Tolkien ever say the Elves, Men, Dwarves and Hobbits were White?
No. Some of them were pale, some of them were blond, but in reality, there was no talk of real world ethnicity in his works.
Did he ever talk about White people in literature and in general?
Yes.
I have the hatred of apartheid in my bones; and most of all I detest the segregation or separation of Language and Literature. I do not care which of them you think White.
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The treatment of colour nearly always horrifies anyone going out from Britain & not only in South Africa. Unfort[unately] not many retain that generous sentiment for long.
- J. R. R. Tolkien
As you probably guessed (or maybe you didn't because you were given a false image of what Tolkien was "supposed" to be), he was vocally anti-racist.
Not to say he didn't engage with harmful, racialised tropes, but he also railed against allegory, and the idea of applying his fictions to the real world, for good or ill.
Many will insist they know how Tolkien would've felt about certain things, and those people are liars. We don't know. We can only base our knowledge off of what he has said.
And for the most part, he was like, "fuck Hitler, fuck the Nazis, fuck segregation and apartheid, the way people of colour are treated is fucked"
(also yes, he described Galadriel as Amazonian, "man-maiden" and excellent in athleticism on top of generally being one of the most powerful Elves in Middle Earth and being the favourite of an angel [Maia] who she lived with for a while, so she was a grade A #1 superchad Mary Sue and that's exactly how Tolkien intended her to be. Anyone saying otherwise is wrong)
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I hate, hate, HATE the term “affordable housing.” I hate that we’ve normalized it. I hate that we just accept that the majority of housing, a basic human right, is unaffordable to much of the population. Housing should be affordable as a baseline. If rich people want to add arcades and gold-plated hot tubs on top so be it, but everyone, everyone, regardless of income level, should have access to a clean, comfortable home with enough light and space to make life worth living.
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I cannot hate myself into being good enough.
May we use love as a balm over the parts we think we should hate.
May “love” look any and every way that feels nourishing for us.
May we remember we don’t need to rid ourselves of the tough parts before we show up, before we move closer toward what brings us alive.
May we listen to the parts of us we might instinctually want to silence.
May we let ourselves be both unfinished and already enough.
May we see what unfolds when we let it all be practice.
My unlovable parts see yours, honor yours, love yours. Thanks for being in it with me.
Lisa Olivera
https://lisaolivera.substack.com/p/loving-the-unlovable
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