#thank you for this you have given me a lot to think about

[monzabee]

run for the hills – lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where fate decides to bring you back into Lewis’ life, making him question his belief in fate.  

Pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

Word Count: 9.3k 

Warnings: cursing, crying, drinking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of brocedes (rip), kissing, unprotected sex (you shouldn’t be surprised at this point), oral (m receiving), hand kink, praise kink, minors dni!!

Request: “hey, Merry Christmas 🫶🏽 I was hoping I could request a Lewis smut fic where the reader is Nico Rosberg's sister (with a age gap of around 6-8 years with him and Lewis) and before 2016 they were just really close friends who just kissed once but chose to pretend it didn't happen. after years, they run into each other at a club or a party and they're pretty snappy at each other but there's a lot of tension too and they end up having sex where Lewis is really cocky and also the reader has a hand kink and praise kink? I'm so sorry if I made it too long, i love your writing <33” + “oooo please could i request something w lewis?! something gut wrenchingly angsty? sorry i don’t really have a plot in mind hhhh thank you heheh”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, i started this fic last week and i honestly didn't think I'd finish it this quickly but here we are. don't let my words fool you, i got the request last christmas but if you know me then you know that i am not quick when it comes to working on requests (i'm working on this i promise), not that this fic is even remotely christmassy, but let’s just appreciate that it is supposed to be set during the holiday period lol. this was supposed to be a shorter one but here we are, lol, i'm not even surprised at my inability to keep things short at this point. i posted this fic and realised i forgot to copy and paste a big chunk of it so oh well. as always, feedback is appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Lewis decided he doesn’t like cold a long time ago. That’s why, being the ever-decisive person he is, he chooses to spend his winter vacationing in places like the Maldives or Bali. His decisiveness is an important part of him, given what he does for a living. When he is on the track, in his car, there is no room for hesitation – he needs to be able to make split-second decisions under intense pressure, what’s not to love about that? So, once he decided he’d rather spend his time off basking in the sun rather than freezing to death somewhere else, he never looked back. He enjoys spending his time off in someplace tropical with his family, or without his family; most of the times away from the prying eyes and camera lenses of the media. 

But this time, it’s different – he's alone. 

Or rather, he thought he would be alone. The villa he rented out for the duration of the month is isolated, just how he likes it. He wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore right outside his windows, and the distant chirping of tropical birds to accompany him as he lounges on the large deck, overlooking the infinite expanse of blue. There are no spectators around to gauge his reaction, try to get him to speak out about his plans for the next year when he moves to Ferrari, or what he’s going to do when he eventually retires one day. He hasn’t seen anyone from the racing world for weeks, and it’s been a much-needed break. He’d usually love to spend Christmas with his family, the only time he would ever tolerate the cold being when he is with his family, but this year he just wanted to get away on his own. 

There is no one around that expect anything from him. Just peace. 

He’s not a hermit, of course, but he enjoys spending his time by himself mostly isolated from all the other guests of the touristic area he’s staying in. The chef that works at the villa is on call for when Lewis decides that he wants to stay in for the night, the housekeeping staff come every morning to clean up around the house, then promptly leave, providing Lewis with the privacy he so desperately needs. But other than that, and a few nights spent outside in a restaurant or a club? He is all alone, and he is not complaining about it. Another thing about Lewis Hamilton is that he doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in setting and achieving goals; after all, that’s what he’s done all his life. His success isn’t some cosmic coincidence. It’s years of sacrifice by his parents, relentless effort, and unwavering determination. So, when things happen that feel serendipitous, like running into someone from his past, he doesn’t chalk it up to destiny. He chalks it up to the sheer unpredictability of life. 

And yet, as he steps out of the villa to head to a nearby beach club after dinner, he doesn’t expect to run into you, especially not after how the things ended last time, but there you are. His eyes find you at the bar with some guy next to you – he has to do a double take. Just to make sure, he tells himself. But no matter how many times his attention reverts to you, he knows it’s you. Of course, it’s you. Though he’s not a believer in fate or destiny, or whatever you might want to call it, there you are – dressed in a flowy linen dress. His first instinct is to ask the server to seat him somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have stare at you and your ‘date’ for the night. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens momentarily, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. This is not the moment, he tells himself. It’s not his business, not anymore. But still, his gaze drifts back to you. You’re laughing at something the guy says, your head tilted slightly as you sip from your drink. He can’t hear your laughter, no – but what a sound that would be to hear, he thinks for a moment. 

He knows he shouldn’t care who you’re with or what you’re doing; it’s been years since the two of you shared anything beyond... well anything, really. But something about seeing you here, in this place he thought was his private retreat from the world, feels like a twist of fate – or the kind of cosmic joke he claims not to believe in. But his eyes watch you as you throw you head back in a laugh and he can practically hear the sound in his head, his mind taking him to years ago when he used to be one of the people who got to hear it first hand; when he joined your family on karting days, or when you celebrated with him when he won a race, or even back to that one time when him and Nico were trying to drive those unicycles and you kept doubling over in laughter when they fell down – something your brother did not appreciate, but Lewis couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you from the ground.  

Somethings never change, he thinks, as he notices the smallest of smiles that has crept its way onto his face, quickly disappearing the moment he catches himself. He knows it shouldn’t matter to him – let alone bother him. But old habits die hard, and the sight of your smile, that easy laugh, stirs something in him that feels like both longing and a pang of annoyance. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin. Back then, it was teasing remarks that somehow felt more genuine than any praise he received elsewhere. He catches himself glancing your way again, his jaw tightening when the guy beside you leans in a little too close. It’s irrational, this surge of jealousy that claws at his chest. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but that doesn’t stop it from burning through him. He looks down at his drink, willing himself to focus on anything but you. But memories have a way of sneaking up on him, unbidden. The days spent at karting tracks, the shared dinners with your family, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, it was easy. Natural. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, until you didn’t. 

Just then, you glance over, your eyes scanning the room before they land on him. For a moment, everything stills. The laughter fades from your face, replaced by something unreadable. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His breath catches in his throat, and he curses himself for the way his chest tightens under your gaze. He watches as you excuse yourself, heading towards the restrooms, and he swears he has never gotten up so fast and walked so fast in his life. He doesn’t think, he just moves until he spots you in the hallway, queued behind some people waiting for the bathroom line. What kind of a club only has one bathroom? He thinks, but that’s not the point. 

He clears his throat. 

You turn, eyes widening in that familiar, guarded way. “Lewis.” Your lips open in shock as you glance behind him and then focus on him again, “Did- did you follow me here?”  

“Were you on a date with that guy?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his voice colder than he expects. 

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Excuse me?” 

He stands there, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the irritation from creeping up his spine. His gaze flickers to the bar behind him, where the guy you were with is still talking to the bartender, oblivious to what’s going on. “I asked if you were on a date,” he repeats, a little sharper this time as he emphasises the last word. 

You raise an eyebrow, the surprise on your face melting into something more guarded, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What if I was?” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just out enjoying my night. Ever think of that?” 

He feels a rush of heat in his chest. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he does. “Just curious.” 

You scoff, your lips curling into a sarcastic smile. “Sure, Lewis.” 

“So?” He inquires, “Are you? On a date with that guy, I mean.” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Are you serious right now?” you snap, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’re standing here, in the middle of a hallway, asking me about my love life? What is this, high school?” 

Lewis feels the heat rise in his neck, irritation mixing with a sense of frustration he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not asking for your life story, just... just an answer. Is it that hard?” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t back down. 

You scoff again, your lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You really think you can just waltz back in and start demanding answers like we’re still... You know what? Yes, Lewis, I’m on a date.” You throw a glance over your shoulder at the guy still sitting at the bar. “We met on the beach at the hotel I’m staying at, and I thought I’d let him treat me to a dinner and a couple of drinks before I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday.” You roll your eyes at someone on the queue gasping at your choice of words. “Not that it’s any of your business. Are you happy now?” 

Lewis’s hand grips your wrist, a little too tight, and without warning, he’s tugging you away from the bar, his jaw clenched. “Come on,” he mutters, his tone low and urgent, as he steers you towards the back exit. You’re caught off guard, stumbling to keep up with his forceful pace, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“What the hell, Lewis? Let go of me!” you snap, yanking your arm free once you're outside in the chill night air. The chill hits you like a slap, the heat of the club’s atmosphere fading behind you as the door slams shut. 

“Seriously?” he spits, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re gonna play it like that?” 

You take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what game you're playing at, but I’m not interested. What the hell was that back there? Dragging me out like I’m some kind of... of property?” 

He glares at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice rises, sharp and cutting. “I ask you a simple question, and you throw that crap at me? What the hell did you think I was supposed to do? Just stand there and pretend like I didn’t care?” 

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pretend like you don’t care? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just waltz in, after all this time, and act like you can demand answers, Lewis. Like you have any right to know what’s going on in my life.” 

“Your brother would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the air between you two freezes. The breeze picks up, but the sudden silence makes the world feel too loud.  

“You don’t get to talk about my brother,” you seethe, as Lewis's face hardens, his jaw tensing, but it’s the look in his eyes that hits hardest — it’s a mixture of hurt and fury, both so raw, you almost feel sorry for what you’ve just unleashed. 

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, almost dangerously so, the words slipping through clenched teeth. 

You swallow, but it doesn’t help the sharp edge in your voice. “You heard me. You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t get to fuck up my life and you don’t get to come back here acting like you still have any claim on me or my life.” You’re breathing heavily now, the anger and hurt mixing into a bitter cocktail that you can’t quite swallow – funnily enough, Lewis can smell the cocktail you had earlier. “You left. You made your choice, Lewis. And now you don’t get to barge back in and pretend like I owe you anything.” 

Lewis stands in front of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight as he processes your words. He doesn’t know when the two of you got closer together, he can practically feel the anger radiating off you, “You think I don’t know that?” he spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know what I did?” His voice cracks slightly, the vulnerability slipping out before he can stop it. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up more than you’ll ever understand. We all did – me, Nico, you.” 

“You don’t get to make me feel guilty about this, Lewis. You don’t get to act like I’m the one who fucked everything up.” Your voice shakes, but you keep going, the words coming faster, more bitter. “You kissed me and called it an ‘accident’, a fluke. You fought with Nico every chance you got. I had to pick up the pieces on my own.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, but his anger doesn’t dissipate—if anything, it only sharpens. His hands remain balled into fists at his sides, but there’s something else behind his eyes now, something raw, something almost desperate. “We wouldn’t have worked out,” he mutters, it’s something that he said to himself time and time again to convince himself of it, “I am– was your brother’s friend, you–” 

“You were my friend, too!” You exclaim, your hands swatting at his arms, chest – anywhere you can reach. “You left me, as if I meant nothing to you! You stole my first kiss and shattered my life to pieces on the same day!” You manage to get in some good hits despite Lewis’ attempts to calm you down, and the lump in your throat makes it harder for you to continue talking, “Do you know how many times I wondered if you kissed me just to piss Nico off? Do you know how that feels?” 

“What?” He asks, his voice low. Each hit, each accusation, it stings. But nothing hits harder than the raw emotion in your eyes – hurt, betrayal, and the weight of everything he left behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. “You think I kissed you to get at Nico?” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. There’s an edge of disbelief, of hurt, as if the idea itself cuts deeper than your accusations. “Do you really think so little of me?” 

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, holding yourself together in the face of his raw honesty. “I don’t know what to think, Lewis. What was I supposed to think back then? You shut me out. You made me feel like it never happened – like I never happened.” 

“You were twenty-three years old,” he points out, “our age difference–” 

“Oh please,” you scoff, pushing at his chest one last time, “you’ve fucked girls younger than that.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, as if they’ve struck a nerve he didn’t even know was exposed. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to throw that in my face,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped, tinged with a kind of frustration that feels different from before. 

“Why?” You ask, head cocked to the side. “I can’t comment on you fucking other people, but you can question my actions because I want to fuck–” 

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time and I swear I’ll–” 

“—what, Lewis?” you snap, cutting him off before he can finish his threat. “You’ll what? Walk away again? Pretend this conversation never happened, just like you did last time?” 

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening as he tries to rein in his emotions. “Don’t push me,” he warns, his voice low and taut, but there’s no real menace in it—only desperation. 

“Oh, I’m pushing?” You laugh bitterly, throwing your hands up. “I’m the one pushing? You’re the one who showed up here, dredging up every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury. Don’t you dare put this on me, Lewis.” 

“You think this is easy for me?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did? For what I didn’t do? I’ve lived with this every single day, and you—” 

“Fuck you!” you shout, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck–” 

His hands shoot up, grabbing your wrists – not harshly, but firmly enough to stop your movements. You don’t even fully register how quickly he pushes you against the wall, “You think I ran off and lived some perfect life?” he hisses, his face inches from yours as he inhales deeply. “You think I didn’t miss you every goddamn day? You think I didn’t lie awake at night, wishing I’d had the guts to ask you to stay?” 

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the rawness in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something else – something that feels far too close to the hope you’ve been trying to suppress. “Well... yeah.” You inwardly cringe how your voice sounds so weak, but Lewis tilts your chin back to make you look at him.  

“Is that so?” He mumbles, thumb caressing your chin as his eyes hungrily take in how your chest moves with each deep breath your inhale and exhale.  

Your breath hitches as his thumb lingers, his gaze dropping to your lips like he’s fighting every instinct to close the distance between you. “Lewis...” you start, but his name comes out softer than you intend, more of a plea than the warning you meant it to be. 

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a softness to it, an undercurrent of vulnerability that sends your heart racing. “What do you want me to do, huh? Walk away again? Because I can’t. Not this time.” 

You shake your head slightly, but his grip on your chin keeps you from fully looking away. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t even know how to feel about you anymore.” 

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then let me remind you,” he says, his voice a low rasp. 

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body screaming at you to push him away – or pull him closer and he tension between you is suffocating. “Don’t,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, betraying the battle waging inside you. 

“Don’t what?” he asks, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Don’t do this?” You don’t answer, your throat too tight, your mind too clouded with memories, anger, and something else you’re not ready to name. He waits, his breath mingling with yours, his patience stretching thin. “Say the word,” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will let you go back and take him back to your room and do whatever you want.” 

But you don’t say it. You can’t. Because as much as you hate him, as much as you want to scream at him, cry, and push him away... you also want this. Want him. 

And Lewis knows it. 

His hand releases your wrist, sliding down to your waist as his other hand stays on your chin, tilting your face toward him. The kiss that follows isn’t soft, isn’t sweet – it’s desperate, raw, and filled with years of unspoken words. It’s anger and longing, heartbreak, and desire, all crashing together in a way that steals your breath and sends your heart into overdrive. A softer kiss might have been what you wanted, but Lewis knows this is what you need. His body presses against yours, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders, clinging to him as if letting go would leave you falling apart. His lips are warm and insistent, the taste of him intoxicating. Every move, every touch, feels like he’s trying to make up for everything he never said, everything he left behind. 

The kiss deepens, each second unravelling more of the carefully constructed armour you’ve built around your heart. His fingers grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as everything else feels like it’s spinning. You can feel the heat radiating off him with every press of his body against yours. Your mind screams at you to stop, to think, to pull away before you lose yourself completely – but your body betrays you. The years of hurt, anger, and confusion dissolve into the fire burning between you, ignited by a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender. 

Lewis pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his lips still hovering close, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks. “You still want to go back and fuck your little lover boy?”  

“Who?” You mumble, breathless as a result of the kiss as your eyes become heavy with something you can’t quite describe. 

Lewis smirks, a glint of triumph flashing in his dark eyes. "Exactly," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist in slow, deliberate circles. His confidence is maddening, but the heat between you makes it impossible to summon the indignation you’d usually feel. 

You try to muster a response, something sharp and cutting to put him back in his place, but the way his gaze drops to your lips again makes the words dissolve before they even form. “Don’t do that,” you manage, though your voice lacks the conviction you intended. 

“Do what?” he asks innocently, though the rasp in his tone betrays his intent. 

“Act like this changes everything.” 

His smirk falters, replaced by a seriousness that roots you in place. “It doesn’t change everything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But it changes something. Doesn’t it?” 

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his words sink in. You hate how easily he disarms you, how effortlessly he pulls you back into his orbit no matter how much you’ve tried to escape it. But deep down, you know he’s right. “I hate you,” you whisper, though even you can hear the weakness in your words. 

“I know,” he replies, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.” 

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the haze, making your chest tighten. But before you can think about it, you find yourself tugging on the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him closer to yourself as you mumble, “Kiss me again.” 

Your hands, which moments ago were pushing him away, now find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, as if to anchor yourself in the storm he’s unleashed within you. Lewis doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, the wall at your back the only thing keeping you steady. The kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that borders on desperation, as though he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. When the need for air becomes undeniable, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing against your cheek. 

You can’t answer right away, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest it drowns out any coherent thought. But eventually, you manage to find your voice. “I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no conviction behind the words. They sound hollow, even to your own ears. 

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, but the edge in your voice falters. 

“I’m not,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you... still here. Still looking at me like that.” His hand trails down to your hip, his touch light but grounding. “If you hated me, you would’ve walked away by now.” 

You close your eyes, willing yourself to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible with him standing this close, his presence overwhelming. “This doesn’t change anything,” you say, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him. 

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softer now. “But it’s a start.” You don’t say anything to agree or refute his statement, and after a brief pause, he straightens, fixies your dress and tries to fix your hair as well. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you back.” 

“But, my bag,” you mutter, pushing out your lower lip in a pout when you realise your bag is on the floor. Lewis has to restrain himself when he sees your lips all puffed up because of him. Your voice is whiny, and he realises you’re slurring your words a little bit when you tug on his shirt, “I don’t wanna leave my bag here.” 

Lewis looks at you for a moment, his expression softening as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin with the same tenderness he’s shown all night despite all your fighting. With a soft exhale, Lewis bends down to pick up your bag, holding it out to you with the same quiet care. “Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with something tender. “You really wanna go back to that room, after everything that just happened?” 

You look at him, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. The words feel raw, vulnerable, but there’s something about his presence, the way he’s here, still so close, that makes you feel safe enough to say it. 

Lewis doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes soften, his thumb grazing the strap of your bag as he watches you closely, as though he’s searching for something in your expression. Finally, he steps closer again, the space between you narrowing once more. “I get it,” he says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go home alone tonight.” 

The words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, to push him away, but there’s something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you now, that makes you second-guess everything you thought you wanted. You hesitate for a moment longer, the weight of your thoughts heavy in the air, but the pull between you is undeniable. It’s the kind of pull that’s magnetic, that doesn’t let you escape even when you try to resist. 

Finally, you nod, the decision feeling both like a surrender and a choice you can’t take back. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “Take me back, then.” 

You don’t even remember getting into his car, but you do remember the smug look he shot at your date – Carl, you think – when he helped you through the club with a firm hand on your back. The villa Lewis rented for his little getaway is entirely what you expect it to be – modern, grand, and secluded enough so no one uninvited would know he is there and bother him. The couch in the living room looks way too inviting and you make a mental note to avoid it for now. Sitting on it might make this whole situation feel too real, too comfortable, and you’re not ready for that. You glance around the space instead, taking in the clean lines of the modern furniture, the polished wood floors, and the sprawling windows that offer an unobstructed view of the moonlit ocean. You walk towards the windows, eyes taking in the view from inside the villa. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faintly audible even through the glass, a gentle hum that seems to echo the turmoil in your chest. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to steady your nerves and partly to shield yourself from the vulnerability creeping up on you. The view is breathtaking, but it does little to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You faintly hear Lewis calling out your name, but as if you are in a trance, you can’t take your eyes off the view in front of you. His voice calls out to you again, softer this time, closer. “Hey,” he says, and you feel the warmth of his presence before you even see him. Lewis’s reflection appears in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on you as he stands just behind you. 

You finally tear your gaze away from the ocean and turn to face him, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment. 

Lewis nods, his expression unreadable as he follows your gaze back to the window. “It is,” he agrees, but there’s a weight to his tone, as if he’s not just talking about the view. His eyes flicker back to you, searching your face. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s helping much.” 

You let out a shaky laugh, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It’s not that simple, Lewis.” 

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between you. “But I’m here. You don’t have to deal with whatever this is alone.” 

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. “I don’t know what to do with you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “With... us.” 

He exhales deeply, his hand lifting as though he wants to touch you but hesitates. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he says, his voice steady. “I just want to make sure you’re okay tonight. That’s all that matters to me.” 

Something about his words, his presence, eases the knot in your chest, if only slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” you murmur, more to yourself than him. 

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. “Just be here. With me.” 

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pretense or ulterior motives, but all you see is the same man who’s managed to undo you with a single glance. “Show me your room.”  

“We don’t have to do that.” His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for your cheek, “That not why I brought you here.” 

“Isn’t it?” You try to joke, but his deep sigh is a sign of his disapproval. “I know that’s not why you brought me here, but it can be one of the reasons you brought me here.” 

“Can it?” He drawls, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  

“For God’s sake, Lewis.” You sigh, turning your body towards the man standing next to you. “Do I need to beg you for you to fuck me?”  

Lewis’s smirk falters, his expression shifting into something deeper, darker, but undeniably tender. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with restraint as he steps closer. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t need to beg me for anything. Not now, not ever.” 

The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. “Then fuck me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts frustration and desire. “If you want me, show me.” 

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself, and when he opens them again, the resolve in his expression takes your breath away. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, his tone low but firm. “You don’t know how hard it is to hold back, to stop myself from–” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if even admitting it is too much. He reaches for one of your hands, freeing from your hold and places it on his crotch. “See what you do to me?” 

The crude act manages to steal a gasp from you, your eyes widening at how hard he already is. “Lewis,” you mutter, he responds with an affirmative hum, “show me your bedroom.” 

He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and leads you down a sleek hallway. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wood floor echoes softly, a counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. When he pushes open the door to his bedroom, you’re momentarily distracted by how much the space reflects him. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft, ethereal light. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft light.  

You walk towards the centre of the room, the corner of your lip trapped between your teeth as you glance at Lewis over your shoulder before you run towards the bed and throw yourself onto the soft bedding. Lewis watches you with an amused smirk as you sprawl across the bed, your carefree motion starkly contrasting the simmering tension in the air. “Comfortable, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrays his calm façade. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving him a challenging look. “Very.” Then you narrow your eyes at him, “But don’t call me baby, I am not your baby.” 

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he steps closer, loosening the top button of his shirt with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. “No?” he muses, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if committing you to memory. 

Your breath hitches when he leans over, placing a hand on either side of your body, effectively caging you in. His face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Relaxed, it suits you.” 

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand completely. Your fingers trail up his chest, over the defined planes of his torso, and then slide beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning. 

His response is immediate. His lips crash against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. The kiss is raw and consuming, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into the connection. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged, he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. 

You smile, your hands slipping down to the waistband of his pants. “Why don’t you show me?” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the centre of the bed. He chuckles at the sound of your giggling, as he carefully lays you back down on the soft bed. His fingers work diligently to get you out of your dress, pulling the linen garment over your head as Lewis lets his eyes hungrily take you in. When your dress finally falls away, leaving you in nothing but lace and skin, Lewis takes a slow breath, his eyes scanning over your body with a mixture of awe and hunger. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch sending shivers of desire through your body. 

You arch slightly into his touch, your breath coming faster, and you meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes. “Are you going to just gawk at me, or are you going to actually do something?” 

He smirks, a flash of cockiness in his eyes. “Patience,” he teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he lowers himself over you. With one hand bracing himself above you, his other hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers inch closer to where you need him most. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his lips just inches from yours. His fingers find the lace of your underwear, his touch deliberate as he pulls it aside and slips a finger inside you, making you gasp. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips crashing against yours as he deepens the kiss, his finger working inside you with a slow, steady rhythm. You can feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. 

“Don- don’t say ‘fuck’, Lewis,” you tease him with a small smirk as your breathing becomes deeper, “it’s unbecoming.” 

“You’ll see who will be coming in a few minutes, baby.” He chuckles at the way your expression changes at the mention of the word, his fingers moving in deeper as your let out a disapproving moan, “What? You don’t like it when I call you that?” 

With another dissenting hum and a raise of your hips to meet his hand, you let out a long exhale. “I’m not your baby Lewis, stop calling me that.” With the patience that only he can tolerate, he continues the leisurely movements of his fingers. “I want more, please.” 

Lewis tuts at your words softly, chuckling as he takes in your reactions. “I think you have a very important decision to make here,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly painted with something more serious, “because once I fuck you, I’m not letting you go.”  

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” The words come out choppy as your breathing gets more erratic, his fingers stubbornly keeping to the slow rhythm he’s set.  

Lewis's gaze sharpens, the challenge in your tone sparking a flame in his dark eyes. “Oh, you’ll see it, alright,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise as his hand withdraws briefly, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you can protest, he moves with deliberate precision, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the expanse of his chest – sculpted, strong, and utterly captivating. “Get on your hands and knees.” 

The command leaves no room for debate, his voice firm but laden with heat. Your heart skips a beat as you meet his gaze, a mixture of defiance and curiosity flickering in your expression. “Bold of you to assume I'll listen,” you quip, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays your anticipation. 

Lewis smirks, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, you'll listen,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Because you know exactly how patient I can be, but the same can’t be said for you.” 

A shiver runs through you at his words, and before you realize it, you’ve complied, shifting onto your hands and knees in the centre of the bed. You can practically feel his gaze on you, then all of a sudden, you can actually feel him behind you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he moves closer. “Good girl,” he says softly, his voice rich with approval, and the way your body reacts to the praise is almost embarrassing. “Oh, my beautiful darling.” His hands skim over your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. The grip is firm, possessive, sending a thrill through you.  

The sounds of him taking himself out of his trousers and pumping cock in his hand is pure debauchery, yet you find yourself pushing your hips back against his thighs. Lewis's low chuckle reverberates through you, a sound full of confidence and desire. His hand tightens on your hips, steadying you as he leans in, his chest brushing against your back. The heat of his skin against yours makes you arch into him instinctively, earning another throaty laugh from him. “You're eager,” he teases, his voice dark and dripping with amusement. “I like you like this.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the needy sound threatening to escape, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Maybe you're just slow,” you retort breathlessly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, a challenging look in your eyes. 

Lewis growls low in his throat, his hands sliding across your back. “Careful,” he warns, though there's a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Push me too far, and I won't be nice.” Your breath catches at his words, but before you can form a response, you feel him guiding himself to your entrance, teasingly dragging against you. The deliberate slowness makes your frustration peak, and you push your hips back, a wordless plea for him to stop teasing. 

“Patience, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. But even as he says it, he shifts forward, entering you with a deliberate motion that steals the breath from your lungs. 

The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight as he holds still for a moment, letting you adjust. “Lewis,” you breathe, your voice shaky with need.  

His hands gently caress over the skin of your back and hips, soothing over the sharp feeling of Lewis easing himself into you in small movements of his hips. “You’re doing so well,” he shushes your whiny moans, his hands tracing your sides, grounding you. “You feel perfect, we’re almost there, darling.”  

“A-almost?” Your voice cuts his words off, voice shaky with need, “It’s not going to fit, Lewis, I can’t-” 

He leans over you, his lips pressing tender kisses along your spine, each one sending a ripple of warmth through you. His voice is a soothing murmur in your ear. “Relax for me, darling. Let me take care of you.” Your breathing steadies under his touch, the initial sting giving way to a fullness that leaves you breathless as he pushes himself fully into you. You arch your back slightly, pressing into him as his hands continue their gentle exploration of your body. The tenderness in his actions contrasts with the raw desire in his voice, creating a heady mix that leaves you yearning for more. “That's it,” he praises, his tone soft but laced with heat. “You’re incredible. See? We made it fit.” 

“I feel so full.” You manage to let out, voice whiny as the moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “It feels so good, Lewis.” 

He begins to move, a slow, steady rhythm that builds gradually, allowing you to feel every inch of him. The friction ignites a fire within you, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips, each sound spurring him on. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace increasing as he finds the perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice low and thick with desire. His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair as he pulls you back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”  

The moan that comes from you is dissenting, causing Lewis to slide his hand down your throat to use the leverage to pull you up on your knees, pressed against his chest. “No,” you say, hands extending backwards to keep holding onto him in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he is fucking you now. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something primal within you. “Say it,” he commands, his voice rough as his movements grow more urgent. “Say you're mine.” 

Your breaths are shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers as you cling to him, trying to keep pace with his movements. The way he pulls you against him, his hand firm on your throat, sends a jolt of heat through your core. His hand is firm around your throat, but not uncomfortable to the point that you can’t breathe. 

“I’m not yours,” you gasp defiantly, your voice trembling with every move he makes.  

Lewis growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as his hand tightens slightly around your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “We’ll see about that,” he says darkly. 

His hips snap against you harder now, his rhythm relentless as if determined to prove you wrong. The overwhelming sensation leaves you gasping, your fingers clutching at his forearm for balance. His free hand slides down your body, gripping your waist to hold you steady as he drives deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. 

“Still not mine?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone is equal parts teasing and commanding, daring you to resist him. “Still think someone else can fuck you better than I can?” You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling from you, but the way he moves, the way he claims you, has you crumbling. “Say it,” he repeats, his voice a low growl that echoes through your very core. 

Torn between defiance and surrender, you meet his challenge with a shaky breath. “I’m-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a particularly deep thrust that has you crying out his name instead. 

“Hmm?” Lewis chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle. His grip on your neck softens slightly as his fingers trace the column of your throat in a soothing gesture. “Come on, baby, just say it.” 

“I’m-” The word catches in your throat as he shifts slightly, the angle of his hips hitting a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. A broken moan escapes your lips instead, and Lewis smirks against your ear, clearly revelling in your unravelling. 

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice low and demanding. His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, turning your face just enough that his lips can brush against the corner of your mouth. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the raw intensity of his movements, leaving you breathless. 

“I’m yours,” you finally gasp, the words tumbling out in a mix of desperation and surrender. 

Lewis freezes for a heartbeat, his chest heaving against your back as the admission settles between you. Then, with a triumphant growl, he resumes his pace, his grip on you tightening as if he intends to imprint himself into every fibber of your being. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His lips trail along your shoulder, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “Say it again.” 

“Yours,” you whisper, the word coming easier this time, though the weight of it still sends a shiver through you. 

His rhythm grows more urgent, his body moving with a single-minded purpose as he pushes you both toward the edge. “Never forget it,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, “now come for me.” You blame the singular cocktail you had three or so hours ago for your compliance to his words, as you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, obliterating any coherent thought. Your body trembles uncontrollably in his arms, your cries of release echoing in the room as he whispers sweet words of praise in your ear.  

There are a million other things Lewis expects you to say, but you surprise him with a, “I wanna taste you.”  

Lewis's movements still, his breath catching at your unexpected words. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with surprise and a flicker of intrigue. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and undeniable heat. 

You nod, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, but there’s a spark of confidence in your eyes. “I really do,” you say softly, the tremble in your voice betraying both your boldness and your eagerness. 

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression shifting to one of reverence laced with desire. "Well," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "who am I to deny you, darling?" With a gentleness that contrasts the fervour of moments ago, Lewis guides you to sit up, his hands warm and steady as they support you. He shifts to the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly, giving you room and letting you take control. His gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. You settle between his thighs, your hands skimming over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles tense under your touch. There's a sense of power in the way his body responds to you, in the way his breathing hitches when your lips brush against him. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile before leaning in. The moment your mouth closes around him, Lewis groans low in his throat, his head falling back as his control begins to slip. His hands find their way to your hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guides you, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re perfect, baby.” 

The sound of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the only thing that matters, spurs you on, and you lose yourself in the moment, intent on unravelling him the way he did you. Your lips move with deliberate intent, your tongue tracing teasing paths that have him groaning your name like a prayer. His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle tug that makes you glance up at him through your lashes. The sight of him – head tilted back, his lips parted as he struggles for breath, sends a thrill through you. 

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with awe. His eyes find yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself. The sound he makes is primal, his control slipping further as his hips jerk involuntarily. He tries to hold himself back, but you can tell he’s close to losing himself completely. “Baby,” Lewis rasps, his voice thick with need, “you keep that up, and I won’t last.” You hum around him in response, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. His hand slips from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender contrast to the raw passion between you. “Look at me,” he whispers, his tone almost pleading. 

You meet his gaze, and the connection between you feels electric. His chest heaves as his breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m so close,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me to stop?” The shake of your head is all the answer he needs. With a curse under his breath, he lets go, his body shuddering as he gives himself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He holds your gaze the entire time, his grip on you tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment. 

When he calms down, he collapses back against the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. You sit back after swallowing, a triumphant smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him, utterly undone. “That was fun,” you rasp as you take in the sight in front of you. 

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound low and breathless, as he drapes an arm over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Fun?” he repeats, his voice laced with amusement and lingering satisfaction. He peeks at you from under his arm, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of adoration and disbelief. “You’ve got no idea what you just did to me.” 

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you crawl up the bed to lie beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you tease, your voice light but with a hint of pride. 

He turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching out to trace lazy circles along your arm. “You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet filled with a reverence that makes your cheeks flush. “And I’m completely at your mercy.” 

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, as you nuzzle into his touch. “I think you like it that way,” you reply, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. 

“More than you know,” he admits, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. The tender gesture contrasts with the raw intensity you’d just shared, and it sends a warm flutter through your chest. 

For a moment, silence falls between you, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. Then Lewis shifts, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

The weight of his words settles over you, and you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his gaze. “Good,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

He smiles back, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he tightens his hold on you. “That’s all I get?” 

“We’ll see how you feel after we get home,” you mumble as you run a finger along the curve of his jaw, “you might be bored of me by then.” 

“Home,” Lewis muses quietly, breaking the silence and ignoring your words. His voice is softer now, contemplative. “I like the sound of that.” 

You glance up at him, his face so close that you can see the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression. It stirs something deep within you – a mix of tenderness and longing that takes you by surprise. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Me too.” 

[thebroccolination]

Hi Key, your post is the second I've seen that hinted at Joss but without further explanation. He generally has a positive public perception and I only know him from 3WBF (which I liked), so I'm curious where this shift in perception is coming from recently.

Would you mind making a post or directing me to where I can learn more about his general...situation.

I apologize if this is intrusive since I know you don't like to engage in Fandom Drama and like to keep your space positive, but I don't have XTwitter and his Tumblr tag is usually quite dead.

Thank you in advance!

Why I Don't Fuck with Joss: An Extremely Academic Essay of Words and Screenshots

Hi Anon!

I normally would have DM'd you an answer to this, but since you sent the ask anonymously and you were very kind in how you asked, I didn't want to ignore you.

However, two things:

I do generally make it a policy to keep my negative personal thoughts about certain actors to private conversations or, y'know, Discord servers, just to keep it off public platforms where toxicity is already rampant. In this case, though, I think the situation is interesting enough to comment on. (Plus, y'know, I'm amazed he was even managing a comeback when he's been known to Be Like This for years.)

I didn't get a lot of primary sources for this post because quite frankly I don't like Joss and I don't want to look at his face any more than I already have. However, friends who've been following this more closely than I have were able to verify that there are sources out there for everything I'm going to mention. Just, y'know, don't use me or this post as a source. This isn't one of my Citations Included Posts, this is just a Why I Don't Fuck with This Guy Post.

So, for context, I made this post last month, and someone made a more explicitly worded reblog here that's honestly better if you're going in without any context.

Essentially, Joss has had a dodgy reputation for years, but I think because fan turnover is high in interfandom and he's never been in a BL series before, most interfans just know Joss as A Tall Man Who Likes Sportsball.

But when I got into Thai BL back in 2020, Joss was one of the first actors I heard of as ~Problematique~ so I looked into him, and what I learned made me go, "Ew," so I just keenly ignored him from then on. (General gross stuff like the Domundi boob-grabbing prank and some assorted Dudebro comments about women. I don't remember specifics anymore because he was barely on my radar, but a friend at the time who'd been in fandom longer basically told me, "Yeah, that's Joss, lol.")

Interestingly, before JossGawin became a thing, most interfans were rooting for JossLuke, but I think given how vocally left-leaning Luke has proven to be, I wouldn't be surprised if Luke saw the prospect of tying his public reputation to Joss and went, "lol no goddamn thank you."

Gawin, on the other hand, seems to be down for whatever GMMTV wants him to do, so he probably just sees Joss as a colleague he makes out with (acting is a weird job). He went to high school in western Pennsylvania, he has white relatives on his dad's side, and he hangs out with the Gym Dudes of GMMTV, so I'm sure he's completely desensitized and is one of those guys who thinks, "Nah," but doesn't go so far as to say, "Not cool, dude." The Gawin Caskey Method seems to be: throw a basketball, make out with a dude on camera, go home and eat an edible. Dismount.

Unfortunately, even though Gawin's never really made any political statements or taken any major stand for the queer community, he's gained goodwill that some people are now calling into question because of Joss.

Anyway, apparently Joss used to follow Andrew Tate on Twitter until Tate was suspended, so it seems a lot of people assumed Joss unfollowed Tate, but yeah, between the sexist comments, Boobgate, and admiring Joe Rogan, that was enough for me to physically recoil from the screen when I saw the teaser for MGB.

Okay NOW, everything from this point onward is new stuff I've learned over the past month that made me go, "Oh. So he's worse now."

Joss has apparently had that Joe Rogan quote pinned to his Twitter account since 2020, but people just shrugged it off because they like his man stomach or something? (I don't find him attractive, but even if I did, I truly don't understand how he made it this far. It feels like he's been pretty firmly canceled every year since I got here, honestly.)

I also didn't like him weight-shaming Gawin. There's some older clip of him calling Gawin fat, and I know in Asia it's more common to comment on other people's bodies and weight, but I also recently found out that he got Gawin a meat cake for his birthday because idk actual cake is for pussies? (Sorry, Anon, I was trying to aim for an objective tone but I abandoned it because I reeeally don't like this man.) And apparently a lot of JG fanservice is just Joss and Gawin at the gym so Joss can teach Gawin self-control or something? I've had their tag blocked from the beginning, so you'll have to look into that if you're curious.

Ah, and at some point in the last few months, Joss was apparently asked what his "type" is and he said something like "white, skinny English-speaking Europeans/Americans"(?) Which apparently made Asian women go, "Hey, c'mere real quick: good. Bye."

I also thought it was a huge red flag that Joss has been in the industry for years, and his domestic fanbase is still quite small. Others have pointed out that very few fan interactions with him are in Thai, and he's clearly courting a western audience both in his individual engagement and by partnering with a mixed American actor. When he did the LGBTQ+ panel last summer, apparently the reaction from Thai commenters was, "lmao why Joss?" not, "Oh yes, of course, Joss!"

So it seems like GMMTV has been trying to do a rebrand for Joss using Gawin and interfans more generally since Joss speaks English and interfans don't generally seek out the resources to do research. Remember last year when GMMTV announced that Y-MIND script competition? It was originally domestic only, but after Thai fans overwhelmingly went, "The contract terms here are wildly exploitative, so fuck off," GMMTV rereleased the promotional material in English and went, "HEY INTERFANS WANNA SEND US STUFF :D?"

That told me they really don't think especially highly of us.

On December 15th, someone pointed out that Joss didn't just follow Trump on Twitter, he also followed a ton of extreme alt-right accounts on Instagram. Not normal political figures, either. Obscure figures like Pearl, Candace Owens, that guy who was saying Your Body My Choice, and Andrew Tate's right-hand man, and more! Some of his fans tried to point out that he follows progressive Thai politicians, but as far as the American side, he only followed alt-right conservative accounts with zero liberal accounts.

Though, in fairness, someone did point out that Joss also follows famous progressive Democratic figures [checks notes] comedian Chris Rock and basketball player Stephen Curry.

So. Whoohoo for that, amirite?

Since Joss's fans weren't having much success defending him on their own, they threw some @'s at his account to get him to make some kind of statement that would somehow explain away why he was following a deep, deep alt-right fanatic like Pearl. (Spoiler: He didn't.)

The JossGawin International fan club even released the above statement to address the issue, then received such alarmingly vitriolic backlash from the JossGawin fandom for "betraying" Joss that the fanclub decided to deactivate entirely. (I have no idea if they reactivated or not, since I stopped keeping up with this whole debacle shortly afterward.)

One Thai(?) JossGawin fan actually seems to have used ChatGPT to create an English comment to chastise the fanclub for their lack of support in Joss's dire times:

Amusingly, rather than address his fans' concerns or unfollow any of the accounts causing the chaos, Joss instead just started deleting any comment on his Instagram that called on him to comment.

Five days later, he unfollowed 137 accounts. No idea how many of those were alt-right extremists and how many were just extra padding to make it look like a general cleanse, but it was at least fifty last I heard, and the fact that 1) it took him nearly a week to do anything but delete the comments calling him out, and 2) his first tweet after this whole mess was a quote-retweet of GMMTV's message welcoming Barcode into the company saying, "lol this kid looks like if me and Gawin had a baby" just goes to show how unthreatened he feels.

After all, Joss has been this way for years, and his upcoming series with Gawin is probably going to do numbers regardless. He's successfully rebuilt his stagnant career off the support of interfans, and he knows he'll be fine.

Even Foei has a show with Tay! We're all good here. \:D/

So yeah! That's why I don't fuck with Joss. \:D/

This'll be the last I say on Joss publicly.

I just figured I'd make one all-encompassing post so I can link back to this in case anyone asks why I'm not supporting any of Gawin's projects with Joss. It's a shame because I do really like Gawin, but this isn't even a hard choice for me to make.

Oh, and while we're on the subject: the director of MGB, Ark, is also Not a Good Dude by all accounts I've heard from multiple people who've interacted with him privately. I mean, he sure is queer, but he's also said to be a misogynist with some white-people-worshipping tendencies. He doesn't have the highest opinion of BL fandom in general, either, especially when you look back on his whole direction of IT'S NOT A BL Shadow. Just, y'know, another reminder that queer people aren't Virtuous or Evil by nature. We're a big ole clusterfuck of nuance, so you don't have to support MGB for Ark just because he's a queer man. I have zero proof that I can share publicly, so you don't have to take my word for it. Just, y'know, in case you were on the fence, I've heard he's a dick.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go write absolutely filthy gay porn to purify myself from writing Joss's name so many times.

[creatingblackcharacters]

First of all I wanted to thank you for all the time effort you put into this blog, it's given me a lot to think about and you've shared so many good resources for free.

Now for my main point, I wanted to ask your (and the commenters') advice on inclusive x reader fics, as this seemed the best place to ask it. (A disclaimer: I've never written one before and I don't read that many, so there may be some things about the genre that I'm ignorant of)

I saw your posts about how whiteness tends to be assumed as the 'default' and x reader fics are often written by/for white fans only by having details (straight hair, etc) not applicable to Black readers. My question is, how could one make them as inclusive as possible? Would the best option be to write a scene with something like hair/showering in two (or more) different ways pertaining to hair texture and link to each one? Or would it be to entirely omit details that impose on the reader a certain ethnicity/race/etc to be able to imagine themselves in the story? (Or something else? That was all I could think of)

(I assume you read my lesson and had more questions)

I think focusing on physiological reaction and feelings as opposed to physical attributes would work best to an extent, yes- everyone blushes, everyone gets nervous, feels happy, feels mad, feels butterflies in the stomach, etc. That is one of the easiest ways to do it, imo.

I'll leave more advice up to the commenters, specifically the X Reader fic writers. There are also Black writers of that genre here; why not go through their work and read some? Even if you're aiming for general, by reading and studying their work, you can see where something is described for a Black reader in a way that you would have never noticed was different from a default white reader if you were writing it yourself! And because you saw that, you now know "okay, so this is a specific experience that could be general or left out" for a more general, inclusive read.

[steveseddie]

helping hand

written for round one of @steddiebingo and the 12 days of Christmas mini-event | prompts: help & thigh fucking | rating: e | wc: 2,1k | no cw | tags: eddie lives, sharing a bed, hand jobs, thigh fucking, cuddling

read on ao3

According to Wayne, Eddie can sleep through anything.

It’s why he was late to school pretty much every day. That and the fact that he didn’t give a shit about it– but mostly because he always slept through his alarm clock.

But the thing is that to sleep through anything he needs to be asleep to begin with. And right now he can’t fall asleep because Steve hasn’t stopped tossing and turning in the past hour.

When Eddie comes close to falling asleep for what feels like the hundredth time only for Steve to twist around again, he can’t help but let out a frustrated sigh.

Steve freezes as he’s fixing the blanket around him. “Um, did I wake you?” he asks in a tiny voice.

“I’d have to be asleep for you to wake me up, big boy.”

Running his hands down his face, Steve groans. “Shit, sorry, man.”

“‘S fine, Stevie.” He gives Steve a sidelong glance. Thanks to the moonlight filtering through the window he can see that he’s frowning. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just– Can’t sleep.”

“I got that much, dude,” Eddie says with a snort. He hesitates, biting his lip nervously. “Um, is it because of me?”

It might’ve been Steve who suggested they shared his bed tonight, but maybe he changed his mind or maybe he only did it because he was trying to be polite and he expected Eddie to turn down the offer–

Steve frantically shakes his head. “No! No–”

Eddie isn’t convinced. “Are you sure? Because I can go–”

“No,” Steve says, more firmly this time. “Eddie, I promise, I’m just restless, s’all.”

Eddie relaxes. “Okay, yeah, I get that. It happens to me a lot, especially after– you know.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs in sympathy. “So what do you do? When it happens?”

“Uh–” Eddie hesitates, a little worried that answering truthfully might make sharing a bed a bit awkward. Oh fuck it, he thinks. It was Steve who asked. “I usually just– you know, jerk off.”

Steve inhales sharply. He lets out a tiny, “Oh.”

And there’s the awkwardness.

Before Eddie can offer to take the couch again, Steve asks, “Does that, um– does that work for you?”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Oh, like a charm. Makes me sleep like a baby.”

“I could use some of that,” Steve sighs longingly.

Eddie agrees– he’s noticed the black smudges under Steve’s eyes. “Well, I could, uh– go to the bathroom for a while if you want to–”

Steve sputters. “I’m not gonna ask you to go to the bathroom so I can jerk off!”

“Fine, then you can go to the bathroom. I’ll cover my ears, I promise,” Eddie says, trying to act casual but the truth is that if Steve actually took him up on the offer, Eddie’s brain would melt out of his ears just from knowing Steve is jerking off in the next room.

“Jesus, how loud do you think I am, man?” Steve asks with an incredulous laugh.

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know, it’s not like I’ve given it much thought.” He has given it plenty of thought actually but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “Just trying to be helpful here, Stevie.”

“There’s something else you could do if you want to help,” Steve whispers after a short silence. He sounds strangely shy, nervous. He can’t possibly mean–

“Steve,” Eddie says, trying to keep his voice leveled. “Are you asking me to get you off?”

There’s a short moment where Steve doesn’t say anything and Eddie worries that he just made things even more awkward by assuming that’s what he meant, but before he can spiral he hears Steve’s soft reply. “Maybe.”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters out loud though mostly to himself but Steve hears it anyway and lets out a panicked yelp.

“Christ, you know what? That was stupid.”

“Steve–”

But Steve ignores him, rolling on his side, away from Eddie, and as far as he can without falling off the bed. “Forget I said anything, you don’t have to–”

“I want to!” Eddie blurts out, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Uh, if– if it will help you.”

“Eddie, I can’t ask you to do that,” Steve says, still facing away from Eddie.

���I’m offering,” he says. This isn’t the kind of thing that happens to him and it definitely won’t be happening twice but he wants it– God, does he want it– so he moves closer, putting his hand on Steve’s waist, hearing his sharp intake of breath. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

Steve’s entire body shudders. “Okay,” he breathes out. “Please, Eddie.”

Oh, shit.

Just the thought of doing this is enough to make Eddie’s blood rush downward, making his dick half hard so he’s careful to keep his hips angled away from Steve’s back as he scoots closer to him, moving his hand from Steve’s waist to his lower stomach, feeling his skin erupt in goosebumps beneath his touch.

“I got you, Stevie,” he whispers, fingers moving down, playing with Steve’s happy trail. He’s already panting and Eddie still hasn’t even touched him.

Jesus fucking Christ, he needs to touch him.

He slides his hand lower until his knuckles bump against Steve’s cock over his boxers. “You’re already half hard, sweetheart? Is this what was actually keeping you up?”

Steve lets out a low moan. He didn’t ask Eddie for a running commentary, just a helping hand, but Eddie can’t stop himself. He’s a loud guy through and through, so unless Steve tells him to shut up, he’ll keep running his mouth. Steve seems to be into it anyway.

He lazily strokes Steve’s cock over his boxers to get him to full hardness. Fuck, he’s big, Eddie thinks. He can’t wait to feel Steve’s hot skin–

“Can I touch you?” Eddie whispers into his ear.

“Yes, yeah,” Steve agrees quickly.

So Eddie slips his hand inside Steve’s boxers, sighing happily when he wraps his fingers around his hard length.

The touch makes Steve throw his head back with a groan, almost smashing it against Eddie’s nose. Thankfully he doesn’t, even though not even a bloody nose would make Eddie give up the chance to get Steve off.

However he does prop himself up with the arm he isn’t using to touch Steve so his head rests against Eddie’s shoulder so as to not risk an injury– and because it allows him to peer over Steve’s shoulder and watch how his hand looks wrapped around his cock.

And God the sight gets Eddie to full hardness, making his mouth water.

He starts stroking him slowly, gathering the precum from the tip and smearing it down and around Steve’s cock but it’s not enough.

When he lets go entirely, Steve whines, hips thrusting forward, chasing after Eddie’s touch.

Eddie shushes him gently. “‘M not going anywhere, sweetheart. Here, spit,” he says, holding his hand close to Steve’s mouth. He does as he’s told without hesitation. Eddie can’t stop himself from kissing Steve’s nape. “Good boy.”

“Oh, G-god,” Steve moans brokenly. It trails off into a high-pitched whine when Eddie wraps his hand around him again, the slide of his hand smoother now from Steve’s spit.

He pumps him loosely. “Better?”

“Y–yeah,” Steve manages, panting now.

The elastic of his boxers makes Eddie’s movements a little clumsy but Steve fixes it by jerkily shoving them down. While doing that, his ass presses back against Eddie’s front and there’s no way for him to hide that he’s fully hard in his own boxers.

But instead of shoving Eddie away or calling him out on it, Steve groans and shuffles back until Eddie’s chest presses against his back and Eddie’s cock is nestled against Steve’s now naked ass.

“Fucking– fuck,” Eddie chokes out, momentarily stopping his hand so he can get his breathing over control.

“Eddie–” Steve whines, his hips twitching and fucking his cock into Eddie’s fist. It pushes his ass back against Eddie’s crotch, which does little to help Eddie focus.

“‘M here, baby,” Eddie whispers, his teeth clamped over his lip. Steve’s hips are still moving–

But he starts stroking him again, reminding himself that this is about Steve.

“Oh God, yes,” he moans loudly.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be loud,” Eddie mutters in awe.

Steve lets out a choked laugh. “I thought– I thought you didn’t give it much– oh fuck, much thought.”

“I fucking lied,” Eddie admits with a scoff.

“I– I lied too,” Steve says, his breath coming faster when Eddie tightens his grip. “You were the reason, fuck– the reason why I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking, oh God– thinking about how I wanted to be doing this instead.”

Something hot burns in Eddie’s stomach. “Well, sweetheart. All you had to do was ask.”

“Can– can I ask for something else?” Steve says shyly despite him currently grinding his ass against Eddie in an obscene way.

“Anything.”

“Fuck my thighs?” He asks, twisting his neck so he can look at Eddie, his eyes half-lidded, his pupils blown wide.

Eddie is pretty sure his brain momentarily short circuits.

When he doesn’t reply right away, Steve blindly reaches behind him, his hand connecting with Eddie’s hip. He clumsily tugs on his boxers, trying to get them off.

It snaps Eddie out of it. “Yes, yeah, fucking– yeah,” he mutters, momentarily letting go of Steve so he can shove his boxers down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach.

He gives himself a few strokes– to take the edge off and to spread the precum along his length until his cock is wet and shiny.

“Come here,” Steve says and Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. He shuffles closer, angling the head of his dick forward, lining it up so it slides between Steve’s thighs.

And when it does, they both moan loudly at the same time.

Eddie takes a few deep breaths then reaches for Steve’s cock. The inside of Steve’s thighs is so warm and soft and he knows he’s not gonna last long, but he’ll make sure to make Steve come.

He makes sure his grip is tighter this time, his movements faster. He times them with his own thrusts, his cock sliding wetly in and out Steve’s meaty thighs.

“You feel fucking perfect, Steve,” Eddie groans, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder blade. The praise makes Steve whimper, his cock pulsing in Eddie’s hand. “You gonna come, sweetheart?”

Breathing coming faster, Steve manages, “Yeah– yeah. So fuckin’ close.”

“Me too, baby,” he admits. It doesn’t surprise him, he’s currently experiencing the hottest moment of his entire existence.

The closer he gets, the more his movements turn clumsier, more desperate– desperate to come, to make Steve come.

It’s when Eddie gives Steve’s shoulder a playful little bite at the same time that he twists his hand on the upstroke that Steve’s back arches and he moans loud and shaky as his cock pulses hotly into his hand.

Steve’s noises as he comes and the way his thighs tighten around Eddie’s cock are enough to bring him over the edge after only a few more thrusts and he paints Steve’s legs with cum.

They lay like that for a few seconds, catching their breath. Eddie starts to drift off, feeling tired and floaty.

“So you think you can fall asleep now?” He asks, breaking the silence.

Steve lets out a soft little giggle. “Yeah, absolutely.”

Eddie grins triumphantly. “Happy to be of service, Your Majesty,” he says with a twist of his cum-covered hand.

Steve’s nose wrinkles as his eyes land on it, but there’s a trace of fond amusement in the look he throws at Eddie over his shoulder. He grabs a handful of tissues from his nightstand and uses them to clean Eddie’s hand and himself before they both shove their boxers back on and get back under the covers.

Eddie rolls to his side. “Before you fall asleep and because I know it’ll keep me up if I don’t ask– was that like, just a hookup or do you like, like me?” He grimaces, burying his face into a pillow. “God, I sound like a twelve year old.”

Steve laughs, but not unkindly. “I like you, Eddie,” he says, and when Eddie lifts his head to look at him, Steve leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Now let’s sleep and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Smiling, Eddie nods. That’s fine by him.

Steve turns around, facing away again and Eddie wraps his arm around him, burrowing his face into the back of his neck.

They’re both asleep in a matter of seconds.

[gothamite-rambler]

Why Poison Ivy likes Dick Grayson out of the other Robins

Robin!Dick (chipper): Hi, Ivy!

Poison Ivy (wary, crossing her arms): Hey, kid. Wow, you really decided that babysitting and being a 'hero' was the best idea.

Ivy shot an annoyed glare at Batman, who remained stoically silent. Robin!Dick gazed at a giant rose flytrap, already inching closer to poke it.

Ivy (warningly): Stand away from the giant rose!

Robin!Dick stepped back, his eyes wide with fascination.

Robin!Dick: Can I—

Batman (pointing firmly to another part of the botanical area): I will take you home.

Robin!Dick pouted, shoulders slumping as he walked away, mumbling.

Ivy (smirking): He’s adorable. If I didn’t hate people, I’d keep him. Okay, let’s start. You want me to stop my mission to protect Mother Earth, and you think that's wrong. Please, continue being wrong.

Ivy gracefully took a seat on her flower chair, crossing her legs with a smug smile.

Batman (sternly): I shouldn’t have to explain how your mission to save the Earth doesn’t benefit people. It’s destructive.

Ivy (raising an eyebrow): Why? Because some people might die? A few dead bodies are worth it to save the planet.

Robin!Dick (mid-stop from touching a different dangerous plant): What?! You’re killing people to do this?

Ivy (matter-of-factly): Yes… A few dead bodies are worth—why does his face look sad?

Robin!Dick (trying not to cry, voice wavering): That’s so mean.

Batman (glaring at Ivy): You’ve upset him. Shame on you.

Ivy (indignant, standing tall): Last I checked, the Earth is dying, and I’m just being honest with the kid! If you actually used critical thinking, you’d realize I’m not destroying the Earth—big corporations are! They’re pumping out microplastics, pouring random crap into lakes—Bliss… JUST BLISS—are destroying the freaking planet! They’re screwing her like she’s a two-dollar hooker! I stopped eating chocolate bars from Bliss's company after the founder said water shouldn’t be given to everybody!

Robin!Dick (astonished, eyes wide): Did he actually say that?

Ivy (explaining passionately): He implied water shouldn’t have free access to the public because Bliss is the biggest proprietor of bottled water. That’s unforgivable! So whatever you’re about to say, Batman, I don’t want to hear it! They’re destroying ecosystems, hunting endangered species, killing crops—

Robin!Dick (interrupting, stepping closer): Hold up, that’s all she’s trying to fix?

Robin!Dick glanced at Batman expectantly, waiting for his response.

Batman (turning to Robin, tone serious): She’s not doing it in a logical way.

Robin!Dick (defiantly): She’s a green woman who can control plants! Does she look like she wants to use our logic? No offense, Ivy.

Ivy (grinning): You’re fine. I love my body.

Robin!Dick (glancing between them, confused): She can talk to plants, too! She must feel pain when they feel pain. Are you just going to ignore that?

Batman (frustrated): I never said I was.

Ivy (smirking): Sure feels like it every time we talk.

Robin!Dick (enthusiastically): Why don’t we help her, Batman? Has she asked for your help?

Batman (sheepish, avoiding eye contact): Um… it’s been brought up in the past.

Robin!Dick (jumping up and down, angry): Then why haven’t you helped her?

Ivy (pleasantly surprised): Yeah, Batman, that’s so mean.

Batman (defending his stance): She's a criminal and will let people die for the cause.

Robin!Dick (shrugging): Well, if it's that Bliss guy, I don’t… I don’t necessarily blame her if he dies.

Ivy (smiling): Huh... thank you.

Robin!Dick (sincere): You’re welcome.

Batman (frustrated): All right, you’re young, so you don’t understand this is a complex situation.

Robin!Dick (bringing up a correct point): Yeah, so is being a vigilante over a cop, but that’s what you do! I’ve seen you beat the ever-loving shit out of a lot of bad guys committing actual crimes.

Batman (scolding): Language.

Robin!Dick: The context needed the word! I love you, Batman, I do, but let’s be real—you steal police information and beat up thugs. You haven’t paid the Commissioner back for the fire hydrant incident. You break a lot of laws! You say you’re doing it to save lives; so is she! Most are plant lives, but I get it. We’d be arrested too, but we’re lucky; she’s not… it’s not right.

Ivy (sincere, smiling warmly): Thanks again, kid.

Robin!Dick (sweetly): You’re welcome again.

Batman (confused at how he's being criticized): What the… what the heck is happening?

Robin!Dick (swaying back and forth): I'm just saying, in any other city, we’d be going to prison. Well, you would be; I’d be tossed into an orphanage, and that… that’s not fun.

Ivy (nodding): A lot of kids in the system have been abused. He’s got a point.

Batman (annoyed, running a hand through his hair): Why are you arguing with me, Robin?

Robin!Dick (leaning in, determined): Because dang it, she might have a point! We can help her to a degree… In fact, isn’t the building we’re in the one being sued for what they did to a lake? All those ducks died.

Ivy (adding, voice low): Nothing can grow there for decades.

Robin!Dick: Yeah, the ecosystem is destroyed there.

Ivy (pridefully): That’s why I picked this building to invade first. It’s not being used for anything productive. I’m thinking of making it a plant sanctuary.

Robin!Dick (looking around, nodding enthusiastically): Yeah… yeah… that sounds like a good idea.

Ivy (smirking at Batman): You must’ve gotten this level of kindness and understanding from someone else. I like you. Batman, keep him around; he's adorable and smart.

Robin!Dick (cupping his cheeks, blushing): Aww, thank you.

Batman (raising his voice, annoyed): Stop trying to turn him to the dark side! And why are you ganging up on me?

Robin and Ivy (in unison): Because you know it’s wrong and are being stubborn!

Batman (sighing, rubbing his temples): Okay, she’s not my child, but you are. Don’t yell at me.

Robin!Dick (serious): Hm… okay, I'm sorry, but you told me you became Batman because the system is flawed and sometimes matters need to be taken into your hands? Where the law and our governments can’t fix the issue, it takes a civilian to step in and make things right. How is she different?

Ivy (smirking, folding her arms): Yeah, yeah, how am I different? Is it because I’m green? Racist!

Batman (exasperated): That doesn’t make any sense; you’re white!

Robin!Dick (pointing his index finger for emphasis): She’s green now.

Ivy (leaning forward, playful): Robin, was it? Here, take a rose.

Ivy used her powers to hand the young hero a rose.

Robin (smiling widely and taking the rose): Aww, thank you.

Batman groaned, then picked up Robin like a bag and started walking away. Robin giggled as he was being carried.

Batman (growling): Give me a minute; I have to talk to him in private!

Ivy (calling out, amused): Go easy on him, and let that kid be a free thinker. He's smart; he knows what he’s talking about.

Robin!Dick (waving): Thank you, Ivy.

Ten minutes after the two argued, Batman came to a compromise with his son and Ivy. He understood that Dick would absolutely not mind sabotaging factories or causing a fire with a supervillain to protect the planet. All he needed was a good reason.

Batman (driving them home in the Batmobile, voice calm): Could you not defend the actions of the bad guy in front of me next time?

Robin!Dick (munching on McDonald's fries): Don’t take me to one who has a point, and you can’t be mad at me. I did a good thing.

Batman (with a resigned sigh): I hate that you’re technically right. Give me a fry at least.

Robin!Dick passed his father a French fry while finishing off the ones he already had, an infectious smile plastered across his face.

Inspired by this post

[windvexer]

I just wanted to say that I really appreciate you advocating for not leaving food offerings outside. I get a little frustrated because I feel like witchcraft has a bit of a "leave no trace" issue, and tbh my reluctance to pour out alcohol/leave food/leave coins/etc in natural spaces has given me some traditional witchcraft imposter syndrome. I had never thought about leaving food offerings out temporarily but I am definitely using that idea in the future. Thank you!

I really don't think the local river wants a lot of booze poured out, or a lot of food left out. What's the difference between my offering of food and booze, and what disrespectful partiers leave behind as garbage? What, because I littered with good intent? My intent isn't special enough to make my garbage stop being garbage.

I tend to treat offerings as if they are a moment of convergence, where you knock on the door of the spirit world and have an opportunity to give a gift to whomever answers.

What is the offering? Is the offering physical sustenance? But we know the spirits don't physically eat the food. So what's the point of leaving the food physically behind? Spirits can be honored, consume the sustaining nature of the food, delight in its energies, and then watch fat and happy as the physical remnants are carried away.

The key is that you two are there at the same time and the exchange happens in the present moment.

Spirits can be invited to enjoy what is there (say, food and beverage), and invited to take it "back with them," and then after a period of a few minutes you can pack up what's left and take it away.

I also don't serve my relatives and guests food and leave the remnants out to rot. I clear the table promptly after they eat.

Ten minutes of earthly time is not the same as ten minutes of spirit time. Anyone who has gone across the hedge to feast can tell you as much.

So it's not as if there's a narrow tiny window where a spirit might miss you and then you rudely pack up the offerings. Spirits may be present or absent at any variable times, but there's only one circle, as they say.

Besides, the spirits are not more important than the living flora and fauna. Why would you leave out food you know will disrupt the habits of wildlife and make them sick, just in honor of the spirits? Seems kind of like a dick move.

[siwolism]

hey real quick since we wanna pull the "if you dont know about it shut the fuck up" card but also take potshots at native americans "planting bombs," I have a few questions for you. No google!

How many treaties has the US made with indigenous nations? How many of those treaties are unbroken?

What % of native americans live in poverty? How does this compare to the white average? How about other US minorities?

How many indigenous american soldiers served in the korean war?

How many federally recognized indigenous tribes are there in the USA?

When were indigenous americans allowed to leave the reservation without petitioning the US government for permission?

What is NAGPRA? Why does it exist?

How many native american children died thanks to the residential school system?

How many indigenous languages are currently spoken in the USA? Now how about including the dead ones? Can you name 5?

How many bison lived in the USA prior to westward expansion? How many are left now?

What was the population of indigenous americans in the current US prior to european contact? What is it now?

Since I sincerely doubt you can answer any of these, let alone all of them, pick three or four and make your best guesses.

off the top of my head. also like less then 35% of koreans use google lol. not really a big thing here

3. 10,000. don’t know why you included this obviously i know the stats on the korean war. there were 42,000 in the viet war lol

1. i know it’s somewhere in the ballpark of 350-380, but i can’t remember the exact number. i thinkkkk the wikipedia page says 500 (600?) but im not sure how trust worthy wikipedia is compared to other sources in this case. if i ever came across a conclusive answer to how many treaties broken i don’t remember it, but i usually just assume most if not all.

2. ive seen differing numbers between native americans in general and those who live on reservations and i might get this mixed up but im pretty sure it’s 30% poverty rait for those living on reservations and 24% for native usamericans in general. i don’t know the white average but the national average is 15%

4. 578 i think?

5. if there is an exact date id love to know. from my own education i thought it was both a state and federal thing and i assumed the dates in which restrictions were lifted depended on different states. but actually even as i’m writing that out that sounds wrong lol. i do know that by 1956 there was the indian relocation act so it had to have been before then

6. its an acronym. federal act, something to do with graves i remember seeing people talking about it a while ago. i think it has something to do with museums who had stolen native american bones and other cultural objects being given money by the government if they returned them.

7. okay so ive seen a lot of people say a thousand (in the us) and im pretty sure that’s the number that came out of an offical report but i really don’t think that’s correct because the number of native american children killed in canadian residential schools is upward of 4,000 and some researches say it could be as many as 30,000 so i think that 1k number has to be bullshit.

8. it’s around 180 today, i think it was 300 originally. ill try my best but like lowkey i probably couldn’t tell you 10 languages in china if you gave me 10 hours i suffer from an extreme inability to remember small details like names and dates. but i will try: yupik, haida, cherokee (<- the one with the cool script), dakota and lakota

9. sorry i don’t know numbers but im pretty sure the stats are like. over 95%, ive seen some places say 98% it’s fucking horrific

10. i don’t think anyone knows the number. no one was taking census, ive seen people say 10 million ive seen people say 114 million but im pretty sure that’s talking about the entire continents of the americas not just who lived in current day usa. the modern day population is between 3-9 million depending on how you define a native usamerican.

i think you guys underestimate just how much knowledge about usamerica us non usamericans just absorb via being on majority usamerican websites. and when i was younger trying to learn more about indigenous struggles around the world i spent a lot of time on indigenous discord servers which were all a fucking hellhole (shout out to all survivors of the freely indigenous server i think we all deserve finical compensation) but i still had to educate myself on native american topics in the us and canada because the majority of the time that’s what was under discussion and i didn’t want to come off as ignorant. also the person im dating is originally from canada and has family in usamerica, she’s a communist and ive learnt a lot about, especially canadian, indigenous history from her. but even without those last two things just being on any side of vaguely leftist tumblr or tiktok you encounter a lot of discussion around native american issues. id say most non usamerican communists on here have done some level of research on indigenous history and current day reality in the americas and even if they hadn’t it’s pretty easy to absorb the basics via osmosis.

[nekropsii]

Nekro, I'm very glad to have your blog exist. You are a shining beacon of hope. I need your input on somebody's opinion, somebody's very bad no good opinion. Somebody told me that Cronus and Mituna was just "blackrom flirting", which is supposedly "no different than normal trolls playfighting". They also told me that Cronus is a GENUINE HERO because of Dualscar! I need your input on this. I want you to tell me everything wrong with this. You don't have to, but I just love seeing you analyze stuff and this particular person's statements made me genuinely angry

Hey, thanks! That means a lot, really! <3

This one's easy. I fear I have to put this under the cut, however, due to... Cronus... Cronusing.

Content Warning: Detailed Discussions and Depictions of Abuse and Sexual Assault. Cronus is there.

Absolutely zero indication is given that it is BlackRom Flirting, or even "Flirting" at all. Just because someone is interacting with someone sexually does not mean it is flirting, or even that they're attracted to them. In this case, it is at the barest minimum Sexual Harassment, but if we are being completely honest about the events that are happening on screen, this is Sexual Assault.

Cronus is not attracted to Mituna. This is not BlackRom. This is just abject hatred from someone who is deeply entitled and wishes to control the bodies of his peers, but especially the bodies of those he deems most vulnerable. Some people counter that idea with the fact that he is literally Sexually Assaulting him here, but that requires a major misunderstanding of why people commit Sexual Assault. It is not about Love, or Lust. Oftentimes, rapists are not attracted to their victims at all. Sexual Violence is an act of Violence, not an act of Attraction. Sexual Abuse is, like all other modes of Abuse, about Control, not about Love. Abusers isolate you from your loved ones and limit your access to your money/car/phone to increase their control over you and your ability to flee or get help. They demean you, lovebomb you, and gaslight you to control your sense of self worth and your sanity. They beat you to control your behavior. They sexually assault you to control your entire sense of bodily autonomy. This is how you get Heterosexual Men sexually assaulting other Men or Boys, or Heterosexual Women sexually assaulting other Women or Girls. It is not about attraction, it is about control, and it is about violence. If I may be candid - I've been assaulted more times than I can count in my life. I can safely say that almost every single person who laid their hands on me in that way was in no way attracted to me, they just thought I was an easy target, and wanted to control me because I was an "Other" at the nigh bottom of the social hierarchy. Violence and Control. Not Attraction. Not Love. Not Lust. Pure Violence.

It does not take much thought to realize that Cronus is completely and utterly disgusted by Mituna and everything he represents - it's just that Mituna is also an extremely vulnerable person with extensive issues with communicating due to his speech impediments and his TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury), and a storied history of not being believed by his peers. He is, in essence, a Perfect Victim.

You do not need to look further for proof on Cronus literally just hating and being disgusted by Mituna than his comment about how he wishes he could kill him for being disabled, and the only reason he didn't was because it would have negative social consequences. Killing Mituna would make him lose control over his own social life. So he doesn't, and he resents Beforus for not being the right kind of Eugenicist to enable that murder. I don't think I need to tell you that this would be a Hate Crime.

I also do not think I need to state that Mituna is not attracted to Cronus, considering the first set of screenshots show nothing but a visceral rejection of all advancements being made towards him. Over and over again, he reiterates his lack of consent, and Cronus just keeps on touching him while constantly Verbally Abusing him for being disabled. At most, one could say Mituna experiences an odd kind of "Fawn Response" to his abuse, possibly hoping that playing the role of a friend will make things not as bad, when really all it does is just open up more opportunities for abuse.

I think it's noteworthy that Mituna has a few speech impediments that effect most of his speech, except for key phrases that he says a lot, and/or is making active effort to say clearly. The implication behind how clearly Mituna is speaking while constantly repeating his lack of consent is positively dismal, especially in conjunction with the fact that Cronus is doing this outside, in a public area, seemingly implying that this is so routine that he isn't even being careful about it anymore... But what's even more depressing is that this clarity continues into Mituna's near constant apologies - many of which are prompted by Cronus, as a reflexive response to abuse.

Also, there's my favorite piece of evidence that this is abuse... The fact that Cronus calls it that, point blank. He just admits to it.

He calls his own actions abuse. Yes, it's sandwiched in... Hmm. Manipulating Meenah to get her off of his case for being abusive towards Mituna by redirecting the guilt onto her for actions that she didn't even do herself...

... But that was still a tacit admission of guilt, was it not? He calls his actions abuse.

Everyone go home. Discourse over. He admits to it. We can all throw bricks at anyone denying it now.

Also, Dualscar was not a hero, and neither is Cronus. Dualscar? Hero? Fucking Dualscar? Orphaner Dualscar was a slave owner who was having a real good time in a BlackRom with a straight up rapist, only to die because he literally couldn't tell a good joke to save his life when he went to tell on her.

The closest Cronus gets to "heroism" is the fact that a prophecy was told to him once, which he assumed to be about him, and then got really upset when it was not about him. It was literally just a Harry Potter joke, though, and also - again - did not happen.

He isn't a hero, he doesn't fill the archetype of a hero, nothing. He's also just pathetic, and now he's the one who's the sexual abuser, rather than Aranea taking that role herself.

Everyone go home. Get outta here. Shoo. SHOO!!!!

Discourse Over!!!!!! I've solved all of it. Thank you for reading.

[anemia-rp]

There were times when Yoko wondered as well where he ended and Kuro begun. And how much he really was intertwined with his actual personality. Everyone had a dark side, no one was completely pure, there was a malicious side within every person, this was only human. But he couldn't even claim that Kuro had an own separate personality. He would enjoy the things Yoko enjoyed as well, like playing the guitar, so did this mean…that he was just the feral and malicious side of him? He could wreck his brain about this over and over again without getting to a response. However, it had been always the case that Yoko liked to be the boss, dominant and in control, all in his calm and quiet way. So, who knew?

"So you wouldn't say I've gotten crazy?", he wondered and scratched his neck with his index finger. "Thank you? How reassuring." He actually had to laugh a little. "Although I sometimes feel as if I lost my mind, with this /darkness/ in me." Fuji…well, there probably wasn't a cure for this insanity, otherwise Fuji would have certainly have given him some pills or any other treatment. "Right. I should take a lot of cans with food with me, and a lot of instant ramen. Oh, I'd certainly survive this way. And the more I think about the more I get fond of this idea." He took a deep breath. "Do you think my bandmates will be able to handle the band businesses on their own?" This was what made him worry the most: That he wouldn't be able to /control/ what happened. "And…well, I'd certainly miss you." He looked at Naito. Yes, this was another aspect that didn't make it easy for him to leave.

@royalxnightmare

„You gonna be a good boy for me?“, he asked Yoko.

He tilted his head and blinked with a smile as if he had misunderstood Naito. "I'm afraid I have to disappoint you", he said then with a light sigh. "I already struggle with being a good /man/." As if they wanted to highlight his words a red glint appeared in his irides.

[peach-top]

❝𝙑𝙄𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉❞

➤ ACT I. | CHAPTER IV.

➤ RED SPIDER LILY

“And that's how I was able to use my magic for the first time.” [Y] finished while showing off his bow and arrow. “Wind Archer taught me. I have others like Moonlight Cookie to help me with my spell. Some were self-taught. For example; I taught myself how to heal and revive living beings.”

“You seem to be taught really well in the forest without having to go to the Blueberry Yogurt Academy.” White Lily praises the taller male. “Incredible.”

“Thanks. It's not that big of a deal.” The taller male shrugged as his weapon vanished in thin air. “It's not as strong as Wind Archer since I'm unable to control the wind, so I used other magic.”

“I've been in the forest for so long that I never know what could be waiting for me to discover. For example, I learned how to read foreign languages and write back in the Dark Cacao Kingdom. Still a little sloppy, but it's worth a try.”

“Oh, I can't forget that I tried ice cream coffee for the first time. It tastes bitter and sweet.” [Y] continued, “Dark Cacao was kind enough to give me a tour and taught me new things that I've never experienced before.”

White Lily blinked owlishly, “Oh? I've never thought Dark Cacao would be so kind to someone…He is always so serious, but he's not a bad person.”

“True, but I've been seeing him smiling and laughing a lot. Wasn't he always like that?” [Y] tilted his head. “Most of all…he grants me a kiss on the lip before leaving. I don't know what it meant, but I think it's nice.”

White Lily flinched. A kiss? Dark Cacao kiss [Y]? Why? Why was that all of the sudden? Was he an evil clone? Was he put in a good mood? Or…did Dark Cacao fall in love? That's unlike Dark Cacao.

“D…did he really kiss you?” The white haired female gasped.

“Yeah. I wouldn't lie about it.”

“...!”

“I see that you two are getting along. How's everything?” Elder Faerie approached the two.

“It's going pretty well. We were just talking about my travels.” [Y] answered.

The elder faerie turned his attention on White Lily and asked, “White Lily Cookie, are you feeling well? Well enough to open up to the faeries who are awaiting your arrival?”

“Ah…N-not yet…”

“...I understand. We'll wait until you're comfortable.” Elder Faerie nodded with understanding. “It’s getting late. I think you two should get some rest. I will give you two a place to rest.”

“Thank you…”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Both White Lily and [Y] were given shelters next to each other, thanks to the faeries who lend them a place to rest. Elder Faerie has to keep watch of the flower that was once again trying to escape. Since [Y] is no longer in their sight, it was becoming much more aggressive, the more it lost the sense of the old master.

“What can we do?” One of the knights frowned.

“...I’ll keep watch of it. I know a magic trick to keep it from escaping.” Elder Faerie answered. “However, starting tomorrow, I would like to set it free.”

“B-but your majesty —”

“Don't worry, it won't attack [Y]. I would like to see if it can be tamed by him.” the elder faerie stated.

“?”

Unknownist to Elder Faerie, a white lily flower slowly turned into a red spider lily flower.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

White Lily Cookie wakes up to find herself in a black void filled with nothingness. She looked around in panic, calling out for the faeries and [Y], but there were no responses.

“W-where am I…?” White Lily whined. She felt white lily flowers suddenly appear beneath her. “White lilies?”

As she reaches out to touch the flower, only for them all to turn into red spider lilies, catching her off guard. What is even more terrifying, eyes starting popping out from around her.

“...?!”

The female heard heavy footsteps coming from behind her until it stopped. White Lily was too afraid to turn around and faced that person who happened to appear out of nowhere. The aura…the aura is what put her in fear.

❝so…you're white lily cookie.❞ a stoic and deep voice spoke. ❝you’re not someone who I expected. none of you so-called heroes reached my interest. however…you…❞

White Lily tense when the mysterious figure gently grabbed her braid then let it drop on the ground, ❝…are someone i despise. if i were to get control of your body, i would've use all my power to regain my body and memories then killed you…❞

“...W…why me…?” White Lily asked in fear.

❝why…? didn't you cause the birth of dark enchantress cookie? release the spirit? deal with a dragon? ah, can i not forget…you nearly awoke me from the dead. a pity…that i was reborn as someone pure and innocent by that tree…worse, you sealed my beloved friends before they can set themselves free…❞

“?!”

❝don't you realize how unfair it is to have someone precious to you being taken away and your own people you trusted betrayed you behind your damn back❞ the mysterious figure asked in a angry tone. ❝look at what i become. someone who was born with anger, betrayal, and distrust. i envy anyone who didn't suffer a similar fate.❞

“...Who are you…?”

❝you haven't heard my real name…you all call me “the watcher” but my real name is…red spider lily…don't you forget…❞

Before White Lily could ask a question, Red Spider Lily placed his hands on her throat, strangling her. He won't let anyone wake up from their dream without feeling any pain. White Lily struggled to breathe and break free, but unfortunately his grasp was getting stronger, making it impossible for her to escape.

❝you’ll feel little to no pain when you wake up, however you will be awoken with a mark on your throat…you won't remember this conversation either except my name and your encounter of this place. we will probably meet again…in person…❞

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

White Lily jolted awake, holding her throat. [Y] was sitting next to her with a concerned look on his face, “White Lily Cookie…”

“...[Y]...” White Lily whimpered. The taller male panicked slightly, “Did you have a nightmare? You were whimpering in your sleep when I'm trying to wake you up.”

“...I can't remember what I was dreaming about…” the white haired female frowned. “All I can remember is…Red Spider Lily Cookie…”

“Red Spider Lily Cookie? Who's that?”

White Lily replied, “It's the real name of The Watcher. I'm not sure why I remember that.”

[Y] noticed a large purplish red bruise on the female's throat. He pointed out, “White Lily…Was that always there?”

“Huh? What is it?” White Lily tilted her head. The taller male grabbed a mirror from the shelf and showed it off to the female. White Lily gasped at the sight of the mark on her neck. It wasn't there before. So how is it there now?

“When I arrived here after hearing you choking and whimpering, I saw that mark on your neck.” [Y] pointed.

“...!”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Elder Faerie frowned while witnessing the white lilies slowly turning red. He gritted his teeth, feeling anxious about this cause these lilies symbolize death, plus these flowers belong to someone he wished he could forget.

“The lilies are turning into…” Silverbell trailed off as he kneel down before a red spider lily and reached his finger to touch it, “...red spider lilies…It hasn't been seen for thousands of years.”

“Have he awoken…?” Elder Faerie whispered to himself. “No…impossible. I don't sense him anywhere or nearby. There had to be something else.”

“Elder Faerie? What's going on?” [Y] asked before turning his attention to the lilies, “Oh? Were the lilies always like this?”

Elder Faerie frowned, “[Y] seems the same. Nothing changed, but why the red spider lilies here?”

“Red Spider Lily Cookie…” Everyone turned their attention on White Lily who just arrived after the wanderer. Elder Faerie raised his eyebrows, “What did you say?”

“Red Spider Lily Cookie. It's the real name of the lord of all eyes…” White Lily replied.

“...! How…do you know his name? How can you be so sure about that?” the elder faerie’s eyes widened.

“...” The white haired female grasped on her staff tightly, “...I’ve met him in my dream. I don't remember the conversation, but it all felt so…real. He choked me at the end, leaving a mark.”

“I try to heal it, but it doesn't seem to go away.” [Y] frowned as the female removed the bandages from her neck, revealing the purplish red bruise on her neck. Elder Faerie gasped, “...Impossible…”

“White Lily Cookie…! A-are you hurt?” Silverbell panicked.

“I…I'm fine. It doesn't hurt.”

“He's trying to escape, isn't he? To gain back his power and his body. Red Spider Lily is still fighting to escape.” The elder faerie thought. “Millennial Tree was able to communicate with the master who created Red Spider Lily Cookie. If I could let myself sleep, perhaps I can find a way to communicate with the creator and the lord.”

╭ ⁞ ❏. facts

┊ ⁞ ❏. red spider lily can communicate with other in their dreams and leave damage on their body once they wake up

┊ ⁞ ❏. a special guest will be coming soon

➤ chapter iii.

➤ chapter v.

[luthordamnvers]

ficwip - ‘promise’

Thanks for the tag @nostradamus0

Just as you, I have to search by file, because I've been using ellipsus for a few months now. Alongside libreoffice, so, same difference.

[link to OP]

Spoilers from my own fics, I suppose????

keep on waiting (underneath the mistletoe) Chapter 2

In all honesty, Lena might be desperate enough to find someone to take to the Christmas party she had promised her best friends. "Oh, shit." Jess said, seconds later. "What?" Lena lightly jumped in her chair. "You already have three happy cupcakes." Jess announced. "That means that there are three whole humans that want to meet you." She explained. "Imagine if it had been an actual good pic. You have to go to the next party. There's a holiday mixer this Friday at a member's house. I'll text you the address. Promise me you'll go." Lena grimaced. "Promise!" "Fine. Okay… Jesus. I'll go."

Supercorp : Can we always be this close (forever and ever)? (Don't ask me what this fic is about, I have no clue, but that's the title of the doc)

Esme was staying with her while Alex and Kelly were on their honeymoon. And while she did know English, and she was technically born on Earth, while they were around each other (and presumably they would be a lot given Kara’s relationship with Alex; the kid was her niece for Rao’s sake), Esme was as Kryptonian as Kara herself. And she needed to learn to control those powers. Kara promised herself that she would try her best to teach her niece how to handle them, while her mothers were out of town. Thankfully, she didn’t need to try alone. Eliza was also staying with them for the weekend before returning to Midvale. 

The HoTD Supercorp AU (Have I watched this show? no... And what of it?)

“We will survive, Kara.” Kal said, when they mourned her parents, and they became ashes by dragon fire. The crown sitting heavy on his head. “You and I are the future of our house. It won’t die with us, I promise.”

"It doesn't really matter if you don't need to produce an heir, we are all destined to marry after all, Kara." Lena commented, reading a book, sitting under the Weirwood tree at the palace's garden. "Unless you become a priestess…" "Or a knight…" Kara offered, frowning. Her head resting on Lena's thighs. "Kal promised." Lena sighed, like always, closing her book to look directly at Kara. "I know he promised, Kara. And he will probably be true to his word, but you know that the usual rules wouldn't apply to you." Lena said.

An even older Hallmark Christmas AU - Supercorp

“Are you ready, Aunt Kara?” Esme’s adorable voice asked. “Not quite, Esme,” Kara grimaced to her 6-years-old niece. Esme pouted, in impressively perfect Danvers form. “This is all she's been talking about all day,” Alex, her own older sister, informed her. “Wanting to get a Christmas tree with you for the bakery.” “I know, I know. I promised, it’s our tradition,” Kara apologized, looking at the post-it on her hand again. “I'm just running a little behind on my orders.”

Untitled - Rojarias (actual first fic I started of them, still sitting on 7k words)

"Last time, you drank two whiskeys and then started giving them to me, and switched to ginger ale. You are a lightweight." Andrea pokes fun at her, a smile threatening to settle on her lips at Samantha's silence. "Want me to send you some ice cream, then?" "I have ice cream…"  "I will buy you a drink tomorrow. After our big meeting, I promise." She says softly. "Hell or high water."

All three of them reconvened at Samantha's house, Andrea showed up to the suburban house with a newly-bought bottle of Macallan Sherry Oak.  Lena snickers at it as soon as she sees it. "You really need to update your moves." "It's definitely not a move," Andrea lifts a brow. "I promised Arias a drink last night. I'm just following through." 

That's all I got... I think...

No pressure tags @fazedlight @snowydragonscave @mycatismyeditor @tedgruver69 @thatonebirdwrites @fyonahmacnally

[judesdrabbles]

The Cure (part III)

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 4

On a night out, you stumble upon an uncomfortable situation with a strange man. Luckily, there was a certain someone that was just in the neighborhood.

A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for reading The Cure. I’m glad people enjoy it. These next few chapters are going to be a lot more intense, so prepare and make sure to read the warnings! Let me know what you guys think. <3

word count: 2.1K

warnings: obsessive tendencies, yandere behavior, (mentions of) assault, misuse of power position, reader is drinking, smoking, SA, foul language

He had given his number to you after the incident with your car at his office, and of course he covered it up with a smooth lie. ‘If you ever need an emergency session,’ He had said. ‘You can always call me.’ After that, you had raised your eyebrows, and on his usually stoic face a grin appeared. ‘Or- if you find yourself stranded with your car again, and need your psychiatrist that is not versed in mechanics at all to help you out.’

You had shrugged it off as you chuckled. But you did save his number on your phone.

-

‘Come on, Y/N. First to complain about their love life had to take two shots. You’re pathetic!’ Your friend laughed, sliding two shot glasses filled to the brim with vodka across the bar. You cover your head in your hands and smile. ‘I guess I kind of am, huh?’

Red and blue lights danced across the room. Everywhere you looked there were people, dancing to the mediocre music that the underage, drug addicted DJ from your local town played. You didn’t go out that often, yet you could quite enjoy it. If you had enough to drink, that is.

You chug both shots down in one fluent motion, grimacing slightly. The numbing warmth began to spread trough you.

‘What do you think of him, huh?’ Your friend poked your side, teasing, then nodded in the direction of a stranger leaning casually against the bar.

You squinted trough the haze of lights. ‘Are you for real? He looks like he goes trough some shit.’

‘Isn’t that exactly your type?’ Your friend snorts.

‘Not exact- ugh, whatever.’

You take another shot.

‘Come on, you have to take some chances, Y/N. You’re so stuck up.’ Your friend jumped up from the barstool and grabbed you by the arm. ‘Come, come.’

You faintly struggled, but the alcohol clouded your judgement. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to get back in the game. Who knows?

She pushes you to the man’s direction. He smirks. ‘What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?’ He immediately drawled, his eyes scanning you shamelessly.

Alright. Maybe this was a bad idea.

You look around for your friend, but as usual, she had gone to the other side of the building to go and have some fun with God-knows-who.

You were alone in this.

‘Uh, yeah. Nothing much. Just having a nice time.’

The man puts up his hand and signals the bartender for two more shots.

‘Sure you are. I saw you staring at me already.’

This man was cocky. You didn’t like it.

‘Oh- well, my friend just thought it would be fun to-‘

‘You wanna come back to my place, beautiful?’ He didn’t even let you finish talking. This man’s mind was set on one thing.

‘What?’

‘What? Don’t tell me you don’t want the same thing. Why else would you be here?�� He gestures around the room.

You hate that he was kind of right. Didn’t excuse him for being a total dick, though.

‘This was a mistake. Good night.’

You quickly get off your seat and stumble swiftly outside. Your mind swam a bit. Even with that nice, numb feeling in your head you wouldn’t go home with such a loser.

‘Where are you going, pretty thing?’

Your eyes widen as you quicken your pace.

‘Leave me alone. I said that it was a mistake.’

‘I don’t think you get to decide that.’

The cold air outside quickly turned piercing as you felt a strong grip around your arm. One tug and you were off the main road, in an alleyway, with that same man in front of you.

‘Let me go, you asshole!’ You say as you twist around, but the man’s grip doesn’t butch as he grabs a fistful of your hair and makes you look at him. He had a burning cigarette pressed between his index and middle finger. The smoke was dancing around in front of your face.

‘Listen up, bitch. You better fucking behave before I decide to do worse things to you.’ His breath smelled strong, like cheap whiskey and cigarettes.

You wanted to disappear completely off the surface of the earth. The vodka shots from earlier really did a number on you and made your vision stir. The only thing you could do was whine- and a feeble attempt to push him away from you.

‘Let me go.’ You choked out, your voice trembling more than you’d liked it to.

But then a sudden sound- measured footsteps echoing off the alley walls- pierced trough the haze of your fear. The rhythm was steady, deliberate: each step louder than the last.

‘Y/N.’

Your head snapped toward the sound. The voice was calm. Almost unsettlingly so. What? Was that..?

In the midst of the darkness, a tall man walked over, his polished shoes clinking on the wet, paved stones. His hands were in the pockets of his well-tailored suit. His face was as calm as ever, but his eyes- they were dark. It was Dr. Vincent.

‘Do you know this man?’

‘Hey, man, get the fuck out. I’m busy here, can’t you fucking see?’ The man hissed, tightening the grip on your hair.

But Vincent doesn’t glance him one worthy look. He looks at you.

‘Do you know this man, Y/N?’

You shake your head. ‘No..’

Vincent presses his lips together. ‘I see.’

He strides over to the two of you in a few steps. And then it all happened in a heartbeat.

Vincent’s fist connected with the man’s face in a sickening crunch. The man released you, groaning loudly as blood gushed out of his nose and his eyes started to tear up. You stumble back, getting away from the man as Vincent seems clearly not done with him yet.

‘Don’t look, Y/N. Take a deep breath and wait for me.’ Vincent says calmly, looking at you. He quickly scanned you up and down, and was relieved to not see any visible injuries.

You nod, not getting any words over your lips. It was like they were sealed shut. The world spun even more around you, and you decided to squat down, running a hand trough your hair. You were shaking. What just happened? Why was your psychiatrist here? At this time? I mean, why do you even mind? He just saved your ass from something that could have unfolded to be way, way worse.

Vincent grabs the man by the collar and takes the burning cigarette from his calloused hands. ‘Such a pathetic excuse of a man.’ Vincent whispered, only inches away from the man’s face. The man sputtered, but any coherent words didn’t seem to come out. The cigarette was burning in Vincent’s hand, and the man instantly knew what was going to happen the moment he rolled one of his sleeves up.

‘Hey, man, come on-‘

He pressed the cigarette out on the man’s wrist as he could only squirm and cry out in his grip.

‘Look at you.’ Vincent gritted his teeth as he spoke, calmly as ever. ‘Isn’t this way milder than what you were gonna do to her, hm? Then fucking bear it. You disgust me.’

He throws the man harshly on the ground head first, the cigarette sticking to his skin for a bit before falling down with him. Vincent spits downward in the man’s bloodied face.

‘I’m not done with you yet. I’ll find you.’ He merely said as he turned back to you. He collected himself for a while, taking a deep breath as if trying to calm himself down.

You look up to see Vincent walking over to you. You didn’t see much of the man, since Vincent made sure to beat him up out of your sight.

‘I- Dr. Vincent.. what are you even doing here?..’ You let out when he came near. You were still squatted down, swaying a bit. It was clear to him that you were drunk.

‘Y/N.’ Vincent crouched down in front of you. ‘What did that man do to you? Tell me.’

Oh, how he wished he could hold you. How he wished he could kill that guy up front for even thinking of touching you. For coming near you.

He wanted so much. But he controlled himself. This was traumatic enough for you.

‘He- I was drinking- at the, uh.. bar.’ You say, looking into Vincent’s eyes. They were gentle. Not so .. dark anymore. ‘He followed me. He said if I struggled he would do worse stuff to me.’

‘Did he touch you? Anywhere?’

‘No.. no, he just..- you were on time. Just have a little bruise, I think.’ You roll up your coats sleeve and reveal the bruise the man left from grabbing you so harshly.

Vincent’s eyes flickered with something. He hesitated, then softly took off one of his leather gloves and reached out to your arm. He traced his fingers along the bruise. He had never thought he would do this to anyone; the mere thought of it made him sick to his stomach. But with you? It was so, so different. He wanted to kiss that bruise. Make it better for you.

But he didn’t. Not now. Not yet.

You felt Vincent’s rough fingers run along your bruise. What was he doing? Checking it? The doctor always made sure to keep his distance from you. And, mind you, this guy already had gotten a nervous breakdown about some mud under a guy’s shoe in his office.

So what was different now?

‘Thank you. For.. getting me out of this mess. I really owe you.’ You chuckle, although you just wanted to to melt into the cold pavement as your cheeks burned.

He noticed, of course. He always noticed.

‘You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. What that man did to you was vile. I’m relieved I could intervene in time.’

His hands slipped under your arms, steady and firm, and helped you up to your feet. You were still slightly woozy.

‘What ..- what were you doing here anyway?’ You ask. ‘Were you also going out?’

Vincent lets out a low chuckle, his lips curling into the faintest smile. ‘No, I’m not much for nightlife. I was running errands when I spotted you on the main road.’

It was true; he had never anticipated seeing you here tonight, but the universe had a funny way of aligning things. A chance encounter, though marred by the evening’s earlier ugliness, now felt like an opportunity. An opportunity he couldn’t waste.

‘Hey, Y/N. Let’s take your mind off things, hm? I say we go to my home. Talk a bit, and you can sober up. I wouldn’t like to leave you alone here. Not after this.’

You look up at him.

‘Isn’t that slightly .. unprofessional, doctor?’

‘Oh, well, it’s outside of office hours, isn’t it?’

You were not sure if that is how the rule went, but you nodded anyway. Besides, you would lie if you said you weren’t curious about your stoic psychiatrist.. who just beat up a man in an alleyway for you. Eh, you were too tipsy to drive anyway.

Vincent smiles at you. ‘Let’s go then.’ he said, stepping aside to give you some space. ‘My car is parked not far from here, outside the shop.’

‘You were wanting to run errands, right? Did I stop you from doing that?’ You say, noticing there were no bags in his hands.

Vincent’s eyebrows raise slightly. ‘Yes, I suppose you did. But..’ He checks his watch. ‘The store is still open. Would you like to come with me? My treat.’

‘You are being awfully generous.’

‘You don’t like that?’

The words had a sharp edge, as if to challenge you to disagree. Vincent did know you well. You spill all your secrets to him every week in every therapy session you have with him, after all.

‘Touché, doctor.’

A small victorious smirk appeared on his lips as you arrive at the store. The fluorescent lights felt jarring after the dim streets. Vincent made you pick out some snacks to eat. ‘To sober up.’ He said as he payed for you both at the register.

His thoughts wandered after letting you sit in the passenger seat of his car- next to him. He was slowly driving to his house on the edge of town and oh, how he wished he could just keep you there forever now. So you don’t have to be afraid of those irritable, creepy men on the streets. Their prying eyes. Their lustful gaze. He wouldn’t mind to buy you those nice snacks every day, any day, or anything at all, really. What is professionalism, if not being responsible? He was just being responsible for you. Looking out for you.

That was all.

[tkdb-hell]

luca 35

#35 - An awkward kiss given after a first date.

Kisses Prompt List • Kisses Masterlist

(I do my best to write the reader as gender neutral unless otherwise specified - if you send me an ask and prefer masc or fem, please let me know)

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

The evening air was crisp as you walked alongside Luca, the quiet hum of Frostheim’s aurora shimmering in the sky above. The two of you had spent hours together, the date filled with warm laughter, shared stories, and the occasional teasing remark. Now, as the night drew to a close, an odd tension hung between you—something new, something that wasn’t there before.

You glanced at him, catching the way his purple eyes darted toward you, then quickly away. He looked nervous.

“Did you have fun tonight?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Lucas gave a quick nod, his signature friendly smile lighting up his features, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, a lot of fun. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve laughed that much in a long time.” He scratched the back of his neck, his other hand fidgeting with the silver ring in his ear. “You’re… really easy to talk to.”

Your heart fluttered a bit at his words, but before you could respond, he slowed his steps, coming to a stop in front of the Frostheim dormitory entrance. His usual confident demeanor faltered as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Uh, so…” He cleared his throat, a slight pink tint blooming on his tan cheeks. “Thanks for tonight. It really meant a lot.”

“Of course.” You smiled warmly. “We should do it again sometime.”

Lucas opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He looked torn between saying something and just letting it go. You tilted your head, curious about his hesitation.

“Is something wrong?”

“No—well, yes—I mean…” He let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck again. “I just… I had this idea in my head about how I wanted tonight to end, and now I feel like I’m overthinking it.”

You blinked, piecing together his words. He wanted to kiss you. The thought made your pulse quicken, but you stayed quiet, giving him space to figure it out.

Lucas took a deep breath, steeling himself. His hand lifted halfway toward you before he seemed to second-guess the movement, letting it drop awkwardly. “Okay, uh, I’m just gonna… go for it. Is that okay?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how nervous he was, the sound making his blush deepen. “It’s okay, Luca,” you said softly. “Go for it.”

He hesitated a moment longer before leaning in, eyes flicking nervously between yours and your lips. The moment felt both incredibly slow and too fast as his lips finally brushed against yours.

It was… clumsy. His lips barely touched yours before he pulled back too quickly, as though afraid he’d done something wrong. But even in its awkwardness, the kiss was sweet—genuine, like everything about Luca.

“Sorry, that wasn’t—” he began, but you didn’t let him finish. Instead, you leaned in and kissed him again, firmer this time, reassuring him.

When you pulled back, Lucas was wide-eyed, stunned into silence. Slowly, a grin spread across his face, one that reached his eyes this time, making them shine brighter than the aurora above.

“Okay,” he said breathlessly, “I definitely want to do this again sometime.”

You laughed, taking his hand in yours. “Then it’s a date.”

As the two of you stood beneath the shimmering lights of Frostheim, hand in hand, the awkwardness of that first kiss melted into something neither of you would ever forget—perfect, in its own way.

[idiashroudshusband]

Homecooked - Jiaoqiu x Reader / Fluff

The door to your apartment creaked softly as you pushed it open, the weight of a long day hanging heavily on your shoulders. Your work had been particularly exhausting—staying overtime and you were absolutley beat. You just wanted to take off your shoes, lie down, and forget the world for a while.

But as you stepped inside, something was different. The usual silence of Jiaoqiu not being there was replaced by the warm, comforting scent of something delicious wafting from the kitchen, something you hadn’t smelled in months.

You blinked, taken aback. "Jiaoqiu?" you called out, almost wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you.

"Right here," came the soft response. Jiaoqiu appeared in the doorway, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his apron, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I hope you don’t mind. I thought I'd make dinner tonight."

You stood there for a moment, trying to process the sight. Jiaoqiu, the ever-diligent and caring individual, stood in your kitchen—an area you never expected to see him in, given his usual calm and scholarly demeanor. But here he was, his cheeks flushed with concentration, his eyes shut from his unfortunate blindness, holding onto the pot with a glove and stirring the soup.

"Jiaoqiu, you… cooked?" you asked, your voice betraying a mixture of surprise and curiosity. You couldn’t believe your eyes, wanting to know how?

He chuckled softly, his smile growing a bit sheepish.”I’ve missed being in the kitchen.." You look around the kitchen, and you see the spices out on the counter, in a line, all seeminly organized. The same goes for the utensils and pots, all having been organized in a way so he knows exactly where everything is. He had managed to find a way to do something he loves to do even when his unfortunate situation normally wouldnt allow him to.

Your heart warmed at the thought, and the tension you’d been carrying all day seemed to melt away. "You didn’t have to cook for me…but I’m really glad you did." You were estatic, smiling happily as you watch your husband work on making you dinner. He was careful, both of his hands wearing heat gloves, gently reaching out for what he needed, and using his foxian nose to determine he had the spice he needed.

You both stayed in silence, but you knew he still knew you were there with him.

As he finished cooking, the scent of the meal filled the room—a savory mix of spices, tender meat, and vegetables simmering together perfectly. Jiaoqiu carefully plated the dish and set it before you on the table, the presentation neat but humble, just like him.

"Go ahead, try it," he encouraged, his voice soft but filled with hope. He was praying he hadnt messed anything up..

You picked up your spoon, the first bite surprising you with how comforting and flavorful it was. The balance of flavors was perfect, the tenderness of the meat complemented by the richness of the sauce. It was the kind of food that made you feel like you were home, wrapped in warmth and care.

You sigh, letting out a hum if appreciation. "This is... incredible," you said, looking up at him in awe. "Jiaoqiu, I didn’t expect this.. its delicious. You’ve outdone yourself."

He blushed slightly, his smile growing wider. "I’m glad you think so. I spent a lot of time on it, and I wanted to make sure it was just right for you.. I’ve missed cooking for you..”

As you continued to eat, the two of you talked—about the day, about trivial things, about little bits of life that felt less significant but more intimate in the moment. It was clear this meant more to him than just cooking.

"You know," you said between bites, a smile tugging at your lips, "this is exactly what I needed. Thank you."

His smile softened as he tilted his head and turned towards you. “I’m happy to do it. Your happiness means a lot to me."

The night passed quietly as you finished your meal, Jiaoqiu staying by your side, content in knowing he had made a difference in your day. You realized that, in this small, simple act of cooking, he’d given you something far more valuable than just food—he had given you a moment of peace and a reminder that even on the hardest days, there was still comfort to be found.

[velvetvexations]

As someone who is both trans and has PTSD, honestly I related to ISTTVG more from a PTSD perspective than a trans perspective.

Like that movie is one of the few pieces of media that I can really relate to, as someone who had the sort of childhood/developmental trauma that means that no one can tell whether I'm autistic or if it's just PTSD. I went through the sort of childhood where I had to repress a lot of myself in order to survive it, and had I not met my current main partner there's a good chance that I would have spent a lot of my adult life continuing to repress who I am for the convenience of those around me. When I say I had to repress myself to survive, I mean to the extent that I did not think that I was capable of feeling anger until I turned 19 years old because I wasn't allowed to express or show anger so I repressed it to the point I didn't realize I had the capacity to feel it. And it was nice for once to see representation of someone who is also clearly repressing themselves to survive, who was so similar to how I used to be.

To me the movie encapsulates really the feelings of growing up in an abusive environment where I had to repress my personhood in order to survive and then transitioning to an adulthood where I still didn't have the support/resources/space to stop repressing because I was still just trying to survive, and the idea that while stopping repressing and allowing myself to exist as myself is scary and painful and difficult and even upsetting sometimes, if I don't do it I'm not going to be able to live a life I'm truly happy in.

And I know for a lot of people the thing that they're repressing is gender, and that in repressing their gender they end up repressing their sense of self. But for me it's like the opposite, my gender identity is something I repressed and didn't pay attention to because I was representing everything that's part of my selfhood and identity and what it is that makes me me. But I've been scared to talk about it because like it's clearly intended as an allegory for being trans and given the current state of discourse I'm scared of being blamed for stealing representation or whatever by saying it's good representation for my PTSD, but it really is such good representation of an experience I don't really see represented all that often

Fascinating. Thank you for sharing, anon!

[christophersturnn]

to thank people.

The people that I can actually talk to and trust here are @kenzieeluby @madifilipowiczz @m4ttthemunch @jakewebberr9 @chasekeithh @almondmilkhunniii @chrislilcumslvt @jazzyss-blog @sturniolowhore @nick-stuxniolos-hg (and the one and only Nate)the people I will always trust and talk to.

I’m not saying I’m not friends with any other people and that I’m breaking off my friendships with them. but the people tagged have been nothing but there for me, nice, supportive, I’ve actually been able to be myself around, to actually be able to talk about stuff, to do shit I really want, to come to them crying without having any judgement. these are the people I can really rely on in my hardest. And I will always believe that, no matter if we fight or argue, we’ve never had a bad patch to actually break us.

I want to thank those people. thank you you guys. I will always always appreciate you and your help you’ve given me.

To start off @kenzieeluby

You have done nothing but been there for me, let me cry in your arms, always have listened, comforted me, been the one to stand up for me, to never give a fuck about what someone says because you know the truth, you know every little thing about me. You have never judged me, never been the one to say something rude, always have taken care of me. NO MATTER WHAT you have stayed. Been there, stayed here. I feel like my inner child comes out when I’m with you, you always put a smile on my face and never fail to. And look where we are, a ring on your finger, and nothing has brought us to an end. Words can’t explain how much I love you and how much I’m thankful for you.

Secondly, @madifilipowiczz

I can’t express the way you have changed my life. You’ve been there, supported me, talked to me, gave me advice, every time we have argued, you’d never hold a grudge. Always said goodnight no matter what. Every “ily” was meant (platonically for the fucking mad anons.) no matter if I fucked up you would listen. You know about things others don’t. And you were always the one to first respond.

Third. @m4ttthemunch

We’ve had lows, that’s for sure. But you’re always gonna be my brother. You have listened, talked to me, always known how to calm me down, always reminded me to take deep breath’s. You have really helped me out in life. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done, your my brother, a bond no one else can have with me. You know every single little thing about me. I love you Matt, I love you so much.

fourth. @jakewebberr9

I know we don’t talk a lot anymore, but when we did, we could talk about anything and everything, it was never ever awkward, we could get into tmi shit and we would hype each other up, my early rp days started with you and you were the one to instantly click. Thank you for being there for me and always talking to me, I miss our hour long conversations but I will continue to be thankful for you no matter what.

Fifth. The one and only @chasekeithh

I don’t think anyone can replace what we have. You’re my best friend, always have been, you have been there, listened and always agreed. Doesn’t matter how much shit we’re both buried in. We still find a way to laugh with each other. You have no idea how much shit you have carried me through, we’ve never argued, never fought, nothing. You’re a bond I can’t explain. You can make jokes with me every time you manage to make me laugh. I will always always be here for you, and I know I can count the same from you. Thank you so so much for what you have done for me Chase. Your personality always matches mine, you will match my energy, and I feel like I can be myself with you. I will always and forever love you. Thank you Chase. I can’t thank you enough.

Sixth. @almondmilkhunniii

Yes I know we aren’t the best of friends, but I feel like I can trust you and talk to you. You make me laugh and cheer me up, you always offer to listen, and you can tell when I’m down, your one of the nicest, most genuine loving person I have ever met.

Seventh. @chrislilcumslvt

I know I bug you and shit, but your replies to my annoying asks or how I always talk about kisses and shit make me smile. I can’t describe how supportive, funny, caring, person you are. You always listen, never judge, and you put up with my shit. I love you for that. Thank you marls.

eighth. @jazzyss-blog

You make me smile, make me laugh, make me happy. Your funny ass photos and replies you always have on hand make me laugh my fucking ass off. I love you so so so much. Thank you jazzy.

ninth. @nick-stuxniolos-hg

You have no idea how thankful I am for you, you’re always there for me, been there for me, and will continue to be. If I need a hug, your there, if I need someone to talk to, your there. You’re always there. Your someone that makes me smile, and your someone that can make life worth it, your nothing but thankful for everything. Your such a caring person and I can’t be more thankful for you to be in my life.

Thank you guys for everything you have done for me. I can’t express it enough.