Nov 12, 2025
In my humble opinion, the next best thing to seeing Black actors steadily employed and working...Indigenous actors getting their time to shine too.
Glad to see Joshua Odjick in both The Long Walk and IT: Welcome To Derry
seen from India
seen from Israel
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from China
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Netherlands
seen from India
seen from Estonia
seen from Japan
seen from United States
In my humble opinion, the next best thing to seeing Black actors steadily employed and working...Indigenous actors getting their time to shine too.
Glad to see Joshua Odjick in both The Long Walk and IT: Welcome To Derry
Performer During the Heiva Festival in Anau, Bora Bora, French Polynesia - Sasha Popovic
"The Heiva, held every July, is much more than just a festival. It is a true celebration of Polynesian culture, a time when the inhabitants of Bora Bora and all of French Polynesia honor their ancestral traditions through artistic performances and sports competitions. The six communes of Bora Bora compete in song and dance contests, each hoping to win the coveted title."
Axayacatl Cruz: Oaxacan Indigenous Model 🖤💗🖤
Are there any submissive Indigenous, Latino, Asian, or Biracial men on this site?
I don't mean the kind that's sissy or animal fetishing/pet play
Niwan Fanfic Retrospective
As 2025 winds down, I wanted to look back on another fic that means a lot to me.
Between the Strands wasn’t a direct follow-up to my first fic, Desert Rain, but it became just as close to my heart.
Here’s the very first chapter that started everything. The complete fic (10 chapters) is available on AO3.
GIF CREDIT
Chapter 1: Ceremonial Roots
Awan stretched out on his back, the mattress softer than what he was used to; this was his first overnight stay at Nina’s.
His arm sank into the pillow as he thumbed lazily through the latest issue of Superman. The edges of the comic were already curling from too much handling, but reading comics had always been a comfort, a tether to childhood mornings spent sprawled on the floor with his grandmother’s stories and a new adventure in his hands.
He heard Nina humming quietly at her vanity and, almost without realizing it, looked up from his comic to watch her. A small lamp glowed warm around her, casting light across the curve of her shoulders. She had just stepped out of the shower, her skin still dewy and moisturized, and wore a simple cotton nightie, soft pastel in color, with thin straps and a subtle floral print. Her bare legs were tucked beneath the stool as she slowly pulled a wide-tooth comb through her hair, section by section, taking her time.
Awan watched quietly, comic forgotten in his lap. He’d seen her hair framed by daylight at the office, worn proudly like a crown as she moved about, but this was private, intimate, a ritual she shared with no one else. The warm light caught each curl, making her hair look almost like a halo, and for a moment, Awan felt as though he was intruding on something sacred. The faint nutty scent of shea butter drifted through the lamplight, mingling with the warmth of her skin.
The motions were careful, deliberate: comb, section, oil, twist. There was a rhythm to it, as steady as prayer.
“You’re staring,” Nina said lightly, catching his eyes in the mirror.
He smiled, unashamed. “Yeah. I am.”
She shook her head, amused, but there was no real scolding in it. “Nothing glamorous about this. Just my nightly routine.”
Awan pushed himself up onto an elbow, the comic sliding aside. “I don’t know. Looks like ceremony to me.”
That made her pause, hands still in her hair. Slowly, she smiled, not the quick one she wore at work, but something softer. “Ceremony, huh?”
“Mmm.” He nodded. “The way my grandmother used to braid my hair. Same kind of care. Same patience. Nothing routine about it.”
Something flickered across Nina’s face, warmth, recognition, maybe even relief. She turned back to her mirror, working through another section, but her shoulders had relaxed.
Awan leaned back against the pillows, watching her until she tied on her scarf, smoothing the edges down with practiced palms. When she finally turned and climbed into bed, he set his comic aside without a second thought.
“What?” she asked, catching the look on his face.
“Just…” He hesitated, searching. “I feel lucky you let me see that.”
She brushed her thumb over his arm as she nestled closer. “Maybe that just means you’re special to me.”
For a long beat he just held her gaze, his throat tight. Then he leaned in, kissing her softly. “That goes both ways.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Tibetan Man