#Modest Media Review

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes

Note: Saturday is fat tiddies day. I'm sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Wow, uh, I'd say that's a lot but it's really not much," you snort at Angelique as she comes out of your bathroom in a tiny string bikini. The leopard print is loud on the tiny triangles barely concealing her tits and a few other parts. 

"Not all of us are nuns like you," she retorts and sticks out her tongue. 

"I'm not a nun," you roll your eyes. 

You're not exactly modest yourself. You like your booty shorts and your cropped tops. And when you're lazy enough, you can be caught walking around in your purple track pants that read sex bomb across the ass. Not exactly classy, but fun. 

"Right, right, sure," she scoffs. 

"That's a low blow," you hiss. 

"Well, it's the truth. What's that now? Twenty-two and you're as pure as the blessed Mother Mary." 

"You're a fucking bitch," you sneer. 

"I am," she grins and shakes her tits. "But the guys love it." 

"You are so dumb," you scowl. 

"Try a smile, babe, and maybe someone will want to get it in." 

"Wow, did you just come over here to be awful?" 

"No, I came over to have fun. Loosen up, have some vodka." She insists. 

"Oh, no, I get it, you came to drink my booze," you accuse. 

"Look, it's hot enough out that I don't need you breathing down my neck. You invited me over," she snips. 

"Regretfully," you tweak your brow. 

"Boo, get you're fucking swimsuit on. I'm dying." She crosses her arms and drags her feet across the floor. She grabs her drink; some strawberry kiwi juice and too much vodka. 

"Why don't you go start?" You ask. "Better than pouting over your drinking problem." 

"Cuntttttt," she growls the last consonant. "Oh, you are the worst." 

"Isn't that why you love me?" You blow her a kiss and skip into your bedroom. 

You better keep up with her so you can put up with her. Vodka and orange juice should do the trick. A little less sickly sweet. You pull out your bikini. The sides of the bottoms are silver hoops and there's another between the bra cups. It's not exactly a nun's habit, is it? Especially with your tits. 

As you come out, you tuck in your left boob, the bigger one. Angelique swirls around her glass before emptying it. It's barely noon. 

"You know, you'll probably be drunk before you even get a tan," you chirp. 

"Probably," she shrugs and spins. "Come on, I'm bored." 

You huff and stomp around her. You pour yourself some vodka then find the carton of orange juice in your fridge. Hm, only enough for one drink. Nice of her to bring mixer for both of you. You dump it in with the vodka and head for the door. 

You grab your sunglasses before you step out into the sunlight. It's blazing hot. You slurp back the orange juice laced with alcohol and look around. You don't have much but it's yours. Somewhat. The sunburnt grass and cracked walkway. That's really the dream home. 

You put down your drink on the folding table under the mailbox and grab the kiddy pool leaning against the siding. Angelique makes no effort to help. You don't expect her too.

You drag it over onto the lawn and go around to unwind the hose. You unwind it and haul it back with you, tugging out the kinks until it reaches the pool. You'd do this all in the backyard but there's too many ant hills. 

You hold the hose and spray it into the plastic pool. As you do, you notice the peculiar dark shape in the next lot; a motorcycle. There's boxes on the other side of the duplex porch. Huh, they must've found a new tenant. 

Angelique pops open a bottle of tanning lotion and generously applies it over her arms and chest. She's shining as she smears it over her sandy skin. You'll put on some actual SPF when you get a minute. 

You wiggle the hose as you grow bored of filling the pool. Your mind wanders. She always has to say something. Always has to embarrass you. Never lets you forget every time you struck out. Well, you're just a little awkward. Maybe you should stop giving a fuck. Like her. 

"Oh, summer feels so good," she struts over with her drink and steps into the pool.

She sits and shivers so her pert tits jiggle. A top like that would do nothing but go missing under your chest. As she reclines and basks in the sunlight, you sigh. 

"Gee, Ang, thanks for all your help." 

"No problem, girly." She smirks and bends her leg, swaying it as you notice the neighbours across the street gawking. The two pot-bellied men who meet up to gripe on their lawn chair. Ew. 

You drop the hose in and go back to the porch. You dip inside for your bottle of sunscreen and come back out. You work at rubbing it in. You'll wait a bit before you get in so it doesn't wash off. It's no Hawaiian coast but that small dented pool is your only relief from the summer heat. 

Angelique swishes her second drink in the glass. You don't think she'd help with your back. She's in her own little bubble. As usual. 

You hear the snap of the door behind the wooden crisscross that blocks the other half of the porch. You glance over at the shadow that passes by. The unit's been empty almost since you got there. No tenant stayed longer than a month. 

The man tramps down his stairs and to the motorcycle leaning on its kickstand. He digs around in the saddle bags then turns. As he does, you catch his eye and give a half-smile. You wave weakly as he keeps going. Oh. 

You blink and look at Angelique. She's completely unaware; of your new neighbour or her audience. Two teen boys pass by in a not so subtle detour from their side of the street. You grimace but they're not looking at you. 

You turn the bottle in your hands. That man. He's kinda handsome, if he is a bit older. His long hair is a mix of fading brown and grey. His beard is seasoned with silver and his blue eyes shine boldly. And his jawline. That's to die for.  

Why had you been so hung up on boys your own age? 

The thought make you cringe. Are you serious? Angelique is right. You're too desperate. 

“Anj,” you approach the pool. 

“If you’re not offering to refill my drink, I don’t want to hear it.” Her eyes are closed behind the dark lenses. 

“Why are we friends again?” You mutter. 

She just giggles and finishes her drink. Nope. If she wants more, she can get it. You spin away and catch sight of that man again. 

Your new neighbour grabs a box from the stack on the front porch. You step up to the property line and smile. He doesn’t notice you as he disappears inside. 

There’s not much. The boxes are dusty, marked with the logos of the local storage facility, and his motorcycle is the only other thing there. He must’ve had the stuff dropped off. 

He emerges again and you wave, “uh, excuse me? Hi. Neighbour?” 

He pauses and his shoulders tense. He faces you slowly. His left arm is covered in ink. The patterns are intricate. His other arm is marked with scars. 

You introduce yourself as you sidle up the property line. He stares. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” You say. He still doesn’t answer. “What’s your name?” 

He looks up then back at you. “Bucky,” he grits out. His voice is sexy. 

“Oh, Bucky? That’s cute,” you say. “Say, neighbour, can I ask a favour? I’ll bring you a casserole for your trouble.” 

He considers you, “don’t gotta do that.” He crosses his arms. His biceps bulge and so do your eyes. He is built. 

“Oh, but I wouldn’t mind, it’s just...” you peek over your shoulder at Angelique as she lazes in the water. The sun beats down on you hotly and sweat beads on your nape. You look at Bucky. “I can’t reach my back.” You show the bottle of sunscreen and smile sheepishly. “Could I get a hand?” 

He grumbles and tilts his head. He looks you up and down. 

“I really don’t wanna burn. It’s so hot out.” You plead. 

Reluctantly he unfolds his arms and comes down the porch steps. He approaches and his chest decompresses visibly as he exhales. He extends his palm to you. You press the bottle into it. 

“Thanks!” You let go and shimmy then turn your back to him. 

There’s a moment before the lid clicks. He still doesn’t speak. You hear the lotion squirt and brace yourself. He smears it, barely touching you. As the lotion only slides over your skin, he sighs. He shifts and rubs it in more firmly. You push back against his strength, arching your back just slightly. 

Your heart races. His hesitance is disappointing. You know you’re not ugly. The reasons you got for your many rejections were that you didn’t want a one-night stand or you insisted on protection. It’s not too much to ask for. You really don’t think it’s your looks. 

“All done,” he says. 

The lid snaps shut loudly. 

You face him, your bikini top stretching dangerous as your chest bounces. His eyes flick down briefly. You nearly laugh. It’s a nice reassurance. 

“Thanks, Bucky,” you smile. 

He grumbles again and hands you back the bottle. Your cheeks are on fire. He’s so hot. He’s got that definition that makes you all fuzzy. You bet he knows exactly what to do. 

“So if you need anything, I’m just next door,” you point to your side of the duplex. “Oh, and I don’t mind noise. At all.” 

He nods. You wring your hands around the bottle. 

“But you know, if you do, I can be quiet,” you say, realising the double meaning only as your words hang between you. 

His brows rise and he dips his chin again. He turns and stalks away. He’s busy. You’re bothering him. You’ll try again when he’s not unpacking. 

Your eyes linger on his bike. That might be good place to start. It’s all harmless. You’re being a good neighbour. 

You go to your own side of the porch and put the bottle on the top step. You go to the pool and poke Angelique with your toe. “Move over.” 

She snorts but gives you room. You get in, arms around the edge, feet up on the other. She giggles. 

“What?” 

“He’s a bit... ancient,” she flips her sunglasses up and gives you a pointed look. 

“Whatever,” you shrug. 

“Even so... he’s in good shape,” she sits up slight, flattening her hands against the bottom of the pool. “Hmmm... maybe you might have a chance with the old man.” 

“You’re such a bitch,” you growl. 

“No, really. Do you think you do?” She asks. 

You furrow your brow and search her face, “why?” 

“Oh, it could be fun. How about a bet?” 

“A bet?” 

“Sure, you know, we’re going down to the beach. Got that old house by the shore and there’s only so many spots. You could have one if you can reel him in. No virgins on vacation,” she taunts. 

“Fuck, I hate you,” you sneer. 

“You love me and I know for a fact, you don’t have a chance of seeing the beach if you don’t come so...” 

You take a breath and peer over as your neighbour swings the door open once more. He’s entirely undistracted as he lifts another box. Your stomach swims with nerves. You can flirt; it’s that next thing you never got the hang over. But so far, he’s not even flirting. 

“Guaranteed?” You arch a brow in her direction. 

“Promise. It’ll give you something to talk about.” She cranes to watch, “you better hope his dick still works.” 

[ihaveforgortoomany]

Veryyy general look at the Story Chapters (Books? Wait genuine question are we calling the main story Books or Chapters?) and the Books / media they are based on (Global only)

(I think someone has done this already?)

Prologue: This is Tomorrow - quick search seems that the title is a reference to the 1956 London Art Exhibition that opened in the Whitechapel Art Gallery and considered a watershed in British post-art and kick starting the art movement of "Pop Art" (see the effects of the Storm having comic book like attributes)

(Richard Hamilton was a painter famous for Pop Art and had a work in that exhibition so it checks out)

Book One: In Our Time - based on a collection of short stories of the same name by Hemingway. these are stories about before, during and after WW1. The stories have a general theme of separation, loss, death, grief and alienation. (Potentially allusions to Druvis maybe?)

Book Two: Tender is the Night - this is the final completed book by Scot Fitzgerald (who wrote the Great Gatsby and referred in the beginning quote of the game) and is a tragedy that follows the deterioration of a married couple that reflects Fitzgerald's own troubled relationship with his wife who Schneider's design greatly references. (The couple in the Book either inspire Druvis and FMN's relationship or Vertin and Schneider's relationship)

Book Three: Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien. (Translation is 'Stories and Texts for Nothing') - Again a collection of stories by Samuel Beckett. Seems to be lesser known, heres from Wikipedia "All three stories deal with the deplacement or expulsion of three old men who are forced to leave their modest lives in search of a new niche they might fit" (the SPDM kids desire to learn more about themselves and the outside world)

Book Four: EL ORO DE LOS TIGRES (Translation "the Gold of Tigers") - this is even harder to find stuff on and in English,An allegoric analysis of the contemporary juvenile reality. A review of the movie based on the book- "Inspired by a J.L.Borges' collection of poems, the story recounts the survey of an individual conscience by three young men, surrounded by the nihilism of a society with a hopelessly urban future" ( the struggle between Madam Z and the suitcase fam against the oppressive Foundation maybe?)

Book Five: Prisoner in the Cave - Based on Plato's allegory of the cave

Book Six: E Lucevan le stelle (Translation "the stars are shining") based on the opera of Tosca by Giacomo Puccini in 1900, the title is a direct reference to an aria sung in the Third Act which Isolde also sings parts of.

[kolbisneat]

MONTHLY MEDIA: August 2024

The days are getting shorter and the nights are getting cooler. The summer is waning. But the monthly media posts carry on. Here's how I spent the month of August.

……….FILM……….

Wendell & Wild (2022) I don't want this to be one of the last major stop-motion film to ever be made, but the filmmakers put so many stories into this that I wonder if they thought this was their last shot. Essentially a 12-course meal from a great restaurant: the accomplishment is impressive but the whole is overstuffed and some of the smaller portions were undercooked.

Love Lies Bleeding (2024) The lightly surreal elements of the movie were great, but there's a point late in the story when that surreality kills all of the momentum.

Spice World (1997) Still holds up.

Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves (2023) Still amazed at how well this pulls off what it seeks to do. But maybe I'm biased because I love practical effects, puppets, and action scenes that serve the narrative. We may not get another D&D movie but I'm glad we have this one.

Deadpool & Wolverine (2024) Based on other live-action multiverses, I went in with modest expectations, and this was a pleasant surprise. Maybe it's because it continues to do what Deadpool does well. Thoroughly entertaining in the moment.

……….TELEVISION……….

Neon Genesis Evangelion (Episode 1.14 to 1.20) It's been a couple of years since I stopped watching (mid season!) but luckily one of the episodes was essentially a recap of what's happened so far. Really ramping up in the abstract and the philosophical and I'm a big fan. These kids are meeeeeeeessed up.

Made for Love (Episode 2.01 to 2.08) I only really caught the first season in pieces but I knew enough going into this season that it really clicked! It hit me the same way early Black Mirror episodes felt, only with more humour, depth, and nuance. It's a real shame there's no plans for season 3.

……….YOUTUBE……….

I think this will be a Short Video by Matthew Colville A really great reflection on making art in the social age, the algorithm, communities/audiences, and how these can clash with the natural impulses of creativity. VIDEO

I'm What the Culture Feeling (The full story of Kendrick Vs. Drake) by F.D. Signifier Almost 3.5 hours but for someone like me (who knows next to nothing of this world, these artists, or this conflict) it expertly breaks it all down to paint a complete picture. Really great watch. VIDEO

……….READING……….

Cards On the Table by Agatha Christie (Complete) Top-tier Christie. The premise is so fun, and while I know the multiple detectives appear in other stories, it's a nice introduction to these characters. This book made me want to learn how to play Bridge.

The People of the Black Circle and A Witch Shall Be Born by Robert E. Howard (Complete) I have this collection of Conan stories and after a years-long break, decided to read a few more. Both great! The latter puts Conan in an almost supporting role and it's fun to see him take on a secondary role to the story. Keeps it interesting. And the former is such a classic pulp story (cults, magic clothing, a giant snake) that I can't help but love it.

Delicious in Dungeon Volume 14 by Ryoko Kui (Complete) It's been a 6-year-long journey for me and while I couldn't be happier with how it ended, I'm sad that it's over. Still so impressed with how well it stuck the landing for me. Do I wish there was more of a wind-down with these characters? Sure. But I really respect an artist who knows what they want to say/do and says/does it. Very excited to see what Ryoko does next.

Hellboy Library Volume 1 by Mike Mignola with John Byrne (Complete) Without being hyperbolic, this is one of my favourite contributions to the craft. So confident and fully-formed right out of the gate. Excited to reread this series.

……….AUDIO……….

The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess by Chappel Roan (2023) Technically I started listening to this at the end of July. I saw a positive review, figured I'd check it out, and it felt like that was at the same time everyone else in the world was talking about her. Love an album with such a focused perspective.

Currents by Tame Impala (2015) In recent years I've been really enjoying Tame Impala's one-off songs (Barbie and Dungeons & Dragons soundtracks, their collaboration with Gorillaz, etc.) so I figured I'd really dig into this album. Easy to listen to both casually in the background and with a magnifying glass just pouring over the lyrics. Love it.

……….GAMING……….

Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) Only got a few sessions in this month but the crew is still reassembling the skeletal pirate they trashed years (real time) ago. Now they're about to face a big electric centipede to recover his legs.

Oz: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The Mof1 crew split the party and one half casually shopped and planned while the other half discovered a secret testing facility full of captured magic-users.

Wonderland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) We got in a single session of Wonderland and it was a small party but a lot of fun! Also the first true character death of our playtesters. Luckily we had backup characters though character 2 ended the session losing their arm. Hey that's Wonderland.

And that's it. See you in September!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Christina Buttons

Published: Mar 12, 2025

Last year, a series of Yelp reviews surfaced on social media, written by a young man named Yarden Silveira. Silveira was a detransitioner—a person who once identified as transgender but no longer does—who suffered severe complications from gender-related genital surgery. In these reviews, he castigated his doctors, claiming they had mistreated him.

Yarden died only two months after posting the reviews. Their discovery briefly made waves on social media, but details of Yarden’s life and death remained obscure, hidden behind multiple aliases and a vanished online presence.

Now, through investigative work and interviews with his mother, Kendra, and his aunt, Ginger, it is possible to tell his story. This evidence reveals a boy on the autism spectrum who struggled to accept his homosexuality. Health professionals facilitated his transition when he was a teenager. After traumatic surgical complications, Yarden tried to detransition, only to be rebuffed by the same medical community that had readily agreed to operate. He died at just 23, in what his mother believes was a suicide.

Yarden’s last wish was for accountability from the medical establishment. His story is a devastating testament to the failures of that establishment. Rather than help a healthy gay man come to terms with who he was, doctors “affirmed” his insecurities and led him down a path of surgery. Later, when he begged for help reversing or repairing what had been done to his body, he found only closed doors.

The timeline and assertions that follow are based on Yarden’s online posts and conversations with his family. The physicians mentioned either did not respond to comment requests or declined to comment.

Yarden was born Jorden Matthew Dykes on February 20, 1998, in Santa Clara, California. His parents separated when he was young, and his father was largely absent. His mother, Kendra, gave birth to him in her early twenties. She raised him alongside two younger daughters in modest circumstances. She later remarried briefly, with a man whom Ginger described as “abusive.”

From early childhood, Yarden showed signs of experiencing the world differently. As a baby, he would stare at ceiling fans for hours. In childhood, he developed an intense fixation with vacuum cleaners. He had been in therapy since around age five for anger and anxiety and had received multiple diagnoses, including ADHD and oppositional defiant disorder. Doctors finally identified Asperger’s syndrome (now classified under autism spectrum disorder) when he was about ten.

Ginger described Yarden as both loving and quick to anger, with a tendency to speak or act impulsively. He struggled socially, seldom making friends. He preferred instead to absorb himself in “special interests,” a behavior typical of children on the autism spectrum. At 13, he came out as gay on Facebook, triggering conflict with paternal relatives who had conservative religious views. His mother’s side, however, embraced him.

[ Jorden Matthew Dykes at age five ]

Two years later, at 15, Yarden told his mother that he was transgender. He believed that he had a “female brain”—the still-prevalent but scientifically flawed notion that transgender-identifying individuals’ brains resemble those of the opposite sex.

Kendra and Ginger recalled that transgender issues quickly became an all-consuming fixation for Yarden. Within months of announcing his transgender identity, Yarden began making plans to seek medical assistance.

By 16, Yarden had socially transitioned. He began using the name Emily, adopted female pronouns, grew out his hair, and wore feminine attire. It was 2014—the year of the “transgender tipping point.” Public awareness of trans issues was surging, and the number of children identifying as transgender spiked.

[ Yarden, then identifying as Emily, pictured at age 17 ]

A year later, Yarden was on cross-sex hormones, prescribed by a Fresno clinic. His mother noticed that he frequently changed his name, with monikers often tied to fleeting fixations or short-lived friendships. He spent much of his time online, cycling through intense interests—social justice, genealogy, Communism.

He also began seeing a Fresno-based gender-affirming therapist, Carol Montgomery Brosnac. Yarden later claimed that Brosnac and other health professionals had encouraged his transition and fostered unrealistic expectations, setting him up for failure. “My doctors and therapists said it was possible to change genders and even recommended that I transition,” he wrote. “Given how naive I’ve always been, I genuinely believed them.”

[ Yarden, then identifying as Emily, pictured performing community service at age 18 ]

At 18, Yarden was preparing for the next step in his transition: a penile-inversion vaginoplasty, in which an otherwise healthy penis is surgically dissected, with its tissue rearranged to construct a facsimile of a vagina. He underwent the procedure shortly after his nineteenth birthday, in early 2017, at Align Surgical Associates in San Francisco.

The surgery marked the beginning of a downward spiral. Soon afterward, he was back in the hospital with severe complications, including excessive blood loss that required a transfusion. According to medical records, Yarden developed necrosis of the “vaginal” tissue. Over 2017, he was hospitalized repeatedly to undergo corrective surgeries, including stomach-tissue grafts, in which sections of tissue from his abdomen were transplanted to replace the lost tissue.

Complication rates for penile-inversion vaginoplasty vary widely, with estimates ranging from 20 percent to 70 percent. But Yarden felt his doctors had downplayed the risks and overpromised on outcomes.

Thomas Satterwhite, a plastic surgeon and founder of Align Surgical Associates in California, performed Yarden’s vaginoplasty. Satterwhite is a leading figure at the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH), the controversial professional association for gender medicine. He has a focus in “non-standard” genital surgeries—customized procedures that do not conform to conventional male or female anatomy.

[ Kendra (left) and Yarden, then identifying as Emily (right), pictured before a therapy appointment ]

In May 2019, Yarden underwent what he hoped would be a final revision vaginoplasty, this time performed by surgeon Maurice Garcia at Cedars Sinai in Los Angeles. The procedure utilized a segment of Yarden’s colon in an attempt to replace tissue lost in previous surgeries.

Only a week later, Yarden expressed profound regret, telling Garcia that he wanted a reversal. Garcia refused to comply unless Yarden waited six months, underwent consistent therapy for at least three months, and continued with post-op dilation—despite Yarden’s desire to close the “vaginal” canal. In medical notes that Yarden later shared, Garcia wrote that Yarden showed a “lack of insight” about the “irreversible” nature of closing the surgically created canal and appeared to have “unreasonable expectations.”

Between the ages of 19 and 21, Yarden also underwent breast augmentation and facial feminization surgery—both, like his genital surgery, deemed “medically necessary” and covered by Medi-Cal, California’s publicly funded insurance program. He pinned his hopes on each successive procedure, hoping it would bring him the happiness that had eluded him. “[I]f this one surgery is a massive success,” he wrote in 2019, “then I wouldn’t have wasted so many years of my life for nothing.”

After his latest surgery failed to bring that happiness, Yarden’s optimism gave way to frustration and despair. He was in constant pain and rapidly losing faith in the doctors who had once promised to help him. As his desperation grew, he sent increasingly distressed and sometimes menacing messages to Satterwhite and Garcia. Both doctors filed restraining orders against him.

Around this time, Yarden became absorbed in religion, exploring various faiths before converting to Judaism through online courses. At the same time, he was searching for a solution to his worsening surgical complications and believed that doctors in New York could help.

Using a Birthright trip to Israel as an opportunity, Yarden took his return ticket to New York, where he spent six months homeless before securing a spot in a Brooklyn supportive-housing program. During this time, he began the process of detransitioning, adopting the name Yarden Matityahu Silveira—Yarden being the Hebrew equivalent of his birth name, Jorden.

By 2021, he had joined the Detransitioner community on Reddit using the name “Mindless-Mistake-176.” The forum was then a small community, one of the few spaces where detransitioners could share their experiences. Today, it has some 56,000 members.

Through his posts, a clearer picture of Yarden’s circumstances emerged. Struggling with chronic pain from his surgeries, he attended weekly therapy and regularly used cannabis to cope. He chronicled ongoing suffering, a sense of betrayal, and futile attempts to find medical help, detailing one doctor after another who refused to assist him.

In a post from February 2021, Yarden claimed that he had his breast implants removed by plastic surgeon Aron Kressel at Metropolitan Hospital in Manhattan. Yarden was unhappy with the result, maintaining that Kressel left him with uneven nipples and residual breast tissue. His desperation escalated; he saw plastic surgeon Alyssa R. Golas at New York University, who reportedly told him, “I can’t help you. You’re honestly the first detransitioning patient of mine.” Then, Yarden said, Miroslav Djordjevic at Mount Sinai, a specialist in sex-reassignment surgery, refused to operate without additional requirements. Shortly after, Djordjevic’s office warned Yarden to stop contacting them or face police intervention.

He approached other surgeons at Mount Sinai, who were unwilling to assist. An appointment with Frank Fang at Mount Sinai’s Center for Transgender Medicine and Surgery was canceled; an email from the clinic stated that it would not provide him with surgical services. He sought a consultation with Loren Schechter in Chicago—now the president-elect of WPATH—who, he claimed, acknowledged the severity of his case but declined to take him on. David M. Whitehead of Northwell Health, he said, simply wished him “the best of luck” on his “gender journey,” providing no care plan.

Around this time, Yarden began posting scathing reviews on Yelp and the doctor-review site Vitals.com about the physicians who had operated on him and those who allegedly refused to treat him. In a March 2021 review of Rachael Bluebond-Langner, he claimed that she dismissed his concerns and suggested physical therapy as a solution.

Ultimately, Yarden felt deceived by the idea that he could ever become a woman. “It isn’t possible to biologically transition from one sex to another, which really smacked me in the face when that reality became clear to me,” he wrote. He felt that he had been “lied to” from the start.

[ Yarden at age 22, after his detransition ]

Yarden seemed to recognize that his autism may have influenced his decision to transition. “Maybe if I didn’t have autism, maybe if my brain wasn’t so defective, I would have caught on before it was too late,” he wrote.

Autism is increasingly prevalent among those who identify as transgender. Research links autism to higher rates of same-sex attraction and gender nonconformity—to behaviors, preferences, and traits atypical for one’s sex. Many autistic individuals develop strong moral convictions, spend excessive time online, and gravitate toward social justice spaces that reinforce transgender narratives. The high rates of depression and anxiety among people with autism, combined with black-and-white thinking, can lead them to believe that transitioning will solve all of their problems.

In 2016, Yarden claimed that he had been sexually assaulted by a man and was deeply distressed when some peers didn’t believe him. Autistic individuals are at higher risk of sexual assault, often because of their difficulty reading social cues, greater naïveté, and tendency to trust others too easily.

When Yarden turned 23, he should have had a long life ahead of him. Instead, he was growing hopeless. “I can’t continue living like this,” he said. In one of his final posts, he reflected on seeing a happy gay couple on the subway, acknowledging that his discomfort with his homosexual desires played a role in his decision to transition. “You just really wanted to escape the label,” he admitted.

On May 20, 2021, Yarden died in New York. The medical examiner listed “unknown circumstances” on his death certificate. According to Kendra, no autopsy was performed because some Jewish traditions discourage it.

Nonetheless, Yarden’s mother believes that he ended his own life. He had been open about suicidal thoughts. She also acknowledges that complications from his surgical issues might have played a role. Yarden described his worsening condition in graphic detail—a significant blockage caused by scar tissue and an exposed colon, which he feared could be life-threatening. Either way, his physical and mental suffering were inextricably bound together.

He was laid to rest at Mount Richmond Cemetery on Staten Island, a burial ground managed by the Hebrew Free Burial Association, which provides Jewish burials for those in need. He was buried without a tombstone.

If we can draw any lesson from Yarden’s short and painful life, it is that blind affirmation can do irreparable harm, especially for autistic or otherwise vulnerable youth who cling to the hope that adopting a transgender identity will solve their deeper struggles. When that hope shattered, Yarden was left without options, without support, and finally, without life itself.

“He was a light, and important to this world, and now the world is a little darker without him,” his mother, Kendra, told City Journal. “Yarden was so loved.”

--

[itzsyds]

Rodrigo “Roro” Riquelme x Reader

Unravelling Secrets🤫 (Part 1 is here! Final part here!)

—

Part 2 of Secret Love Affair!✨

—

—

FLUFF- Your colleagues & Roro’s team-mates are starting to grow suspicious of the relationship that you two have going on.

—

The days that followed Atlético Madrid’s victory were a whirlwind of interviews, articles, and fan reactions. The team’s success was the talk of the city, and Rodrigo Riquelme was the name on everyone’s lips. The memory of that heated, stolen moment in the equipment room was still vivid—your bodies entwined, whispers of love and need echoing in the small space.

But the exhilaration was quickly giving way to nerves. You were getting sloppy. The secrecy that once felt thrilling now hung over you like a storm cloud.

You’d catch Roro’s eye during interviews, your professionalism cracking as heat pooled in your belly. He’d smirk—an infuriating, knowing curve of his lips—and you’d stumble over your words, cheeks flaming.

The team noticed. Your colleagues noticed.

Questions lingered, unspoken but heavy.

You’d both agreed—strictly professional when in public. It had worked well at first. A brush of fingers as he passed, a lingering look from across the room. But now, after months of hiding, the strain was showing. He was a rising star, the media’s golden boy. And you—well, dating a player wasn’t exactly the journalistic integrity your job demanded.

The risk was ever-present. One wrong glance. One overheard whisper.

—

It was after a training session when the trouble truly began. You were capturing footage—close-ups of players drenched in sweat, all fierce focus and determination. Roro was front and center, working harder than anyone. You tried to keep your eyes on the camera, but he caught you looking, a grin slipping onto his face.

Focus. Stay professional.

Afterward, players dispersed, and you focused on reviewing your shots, adjusting the brightness on your camera screen.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called.

You looked up, heart thudding. Roro stood a few feet away, casually toweling off sweat. He glanced around before stepping closer.

“Looking good out there,” you said, keeping your tone neutral.

“Gracias,” he replied, his gaze dipping to your lips. “You coming out tonight?”

“Tonight?” You frowned, trying to recall plans.

He smirked. “Team dinner. Big celebration. You know, for the media too.”

“Oh, right,” you said, feigning ease. “I’ll be there.”

He reached out, fingers brushing yours—just a ghost of a touch but enough to make your pulse quicken.

“I’ll save you a seat,” he murmured, eyes lingering before he turned away.

Your breath caught, and you glanced around quickly. Nobody seemed to notice. Still, a prickle of anxiety crept in.

—

The restaurant was bustling, the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses filling the air. You’d chosen a modest dress—professional yet flattering—but you couldn’t help the flutter of nerves as you entered. The team was already gathered, drinks flowing, and a chorus of laughter ringing out.

You spotted Roro instantly. He was leaning back in his chair, talking animatedly with teammates, but his eyes flicked up when you walked in. Heat flared in his gaze, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

“Over here!” someone called, waving you over.

You slipped into a seat, not too close to Roro but not far enough to feel safe. The conversation ebbed and flowed, and you managed polite laughter, though you could feel Roro’s eyes on you.

You should’ve known it would be a problem when the wine started flowing. Glasses clinked, toasts were made, and the laughter grew louder. Tipsiness settled over the table, words slurring into relaxed familiarity.

“Hey,” a voice drawled beside you.

You turned, startled to see Marcos, one of the defenders, eyeing you curiously.

“You and Roro seem close,” he remarked, lips curling into a grin.

Your heart jumped. “Just work. He’s...good for interviews.”

Marcos snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s all it is.”

“Why do you say that?” you challenged, forcing a smile.

He leaned closer, voice lowering. “Because he’s been staring at you like you’re dessert for the past twenty minutes. You two an item or something?”

Heat flooded your cheeks. “Of course not.”

“Hmm,” Marcos mused, clearly unconvinced.

You made a quick excuse and stood, heading toward the restroom to calm your nerves. As you splashed water on your face, you scolded yourself. This was exactly what you’d feared—people were noticing. You couldn’t afford to be careless.

A soft knock sounded on the door.

You tensed. “Occupied.”

“It’s me,” came a familiar, low voice.

Your breath caught. You glanced at the door before opening it just enough to let him in. Roro slipped inside, locking it behind him.

“Are you crazy?” you whispered, eyes wide.

He leaned against the sink, arms crossed, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Maybe. You ran off.”

“I needed a break,” you snapped, but the anxiety in your voice betrayed you.

He studied you, expression softening. “You’re worried.”

“People are starting to notice, Roro,” you said, rubbing your forehead. “Your teammate just accused me of dating you.”

“And what did you say?” he asked, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“I lied,” you said bluntly. “And I hate it.”

Roro stepped closer, fingers brushing your arm. “Then don’t lie.”

Your heart raced. “What?”

He caught your chin, forcing your gaze to his. “Let’s tell them.”

Panic flared. “No, Roro, we can’t—”

“Why not?” he pressed, eyes burning with conviction. “I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to be able to look at you, talk to you, hold you without feeling like I’m doing something wrong.”

The earnestness in his voice unraveled you. “If this gets out, you could be in trouble. And me—”

“I’ll handle it,” he insisted. “I don’t care what people say.”

“I do,” you whispered.

His thumb traced your jaw. “You’re worth the risk.”

The sincerity in his eyes tore at your resolve. He leaned closer, lips brushing yours, gentle but insistent. You sighed against him, melting as his hands slid to your waist. The kiss was slow and tender—sweet, not rushed. It was a promise.

He pulled back, eyes fierce. “I’m not letting this go.”

You swallowed hard. “Let me think about it.”

He nodded, though disappointment flashed across his face. “Okay. But don’t take too long.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before slipping out the door, leaving you breathless and torn.

When you returned to the table, your eyes met Marcos’s knowing smirk. Heat crawled up your neck. You reached for your glass of wine, taking a long, steadying sip.

Roro caught your eye from across the table, raising a brow. The challenge was clear.

Your heart thudded painfully. Hiding was becoming impossible, but telling the truth could ruin everything.

You were at a crossroads—risk your career and reputation or risk losing the man who’d become your everything.

And the longer you hesitated, the closer the truth came to unraveling.

—

Guys the way I am so invested in this plot-line that I will have to write more on this & consider it like a series maybe🤔 x

[centuries-of-thoughts]

A While-Reading Review:

The Secret Life of Groceries

By Benjamin Lorr

Part 1

At the 1956 International Food Congress in Rome […]the USDA set up an “American way exhibit.” It featured the first fully stocked supermarket outside of the United States. This was a modest staging, designed more for easy assembly and dismantling. It held a mere 2,500 brands, a few packaged meats in a lone refrigerated case, and a small selection of prepared food. When the exhibit opened, and crowds finally entered, the Italian women went berserk. One notable enthusiast began running up and down the aisles shouting, “It must be heaven…There are mountains of food!” Press reports described others as standing “stunned,” “goggle eyed,” “bewildered,” and “shrieking with surprise and envy.”

This was not media hype. Pope Pius XII himself weighed in, announcing his blessing from the Holy See. (Page 36)

I’ve never knew how much the grocery store is such an American thing. It could’ve only flourished and happen in America, originally. It as a normal way of life solidified before World War II, and by the 1950’s it became a social fact, just how you shop for food. This oversimplified summary is full of examples: 7/11’s start in the 1920’s, the rise of Piggly Wiggly’s (with It’s GameStop meme shorting story), and building a store so big it covers an entire square foot. While the world lost its minds over a very little mock grocery store in 1956, we were already living in Costco size stores.

So how did we get here? What in our mind causes the supermarket? It doesn’t answer it, if anything, its whole argument relies off of your familiarity with the American and the introduction of Joe Coulombe, the Trader Joe.

How Joe survived the corporate super market area of the 1956’s is nothing more than the true rebirth of American entrepreneurism. No truly, look up his theory papers: he combined the design philosophy of the Boeing 747 (newly released), targeting educated, but poor, GI Bill college students, and purchasing as self-expression. This was revolutionary in the sense that he had enough disposable, advent-grade, intellect that read the symbolism of America and pointed it towards his stores. He did everything, EVERYTHING, himself. He read laws to undermine industry norms and created new trends and cravings. He took risks and every tenth experiment hit, but it is nothing like our Trader Joe’s, he sold it and is run by someone else now.

This is a fantastic introduction into the mirror that is the American mind that became engrossed in the image and likeness of the supermarket. When you hear of the haphazardness, the care, and the expense that created our modern grocery stores, it is truly only down hill from here.

[ogradyfilm]

Recently Viewed - Tokyo: The Last War

Like many a follow-up to a bona fide cult classic, Tokyo: The Last War (sequel to Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis) is widely considered to be inferior to its predecessor; the reviews that I’d read online were almost universally negative, dismissing it as overly derivative of trashy, formulaic, uninspired American slasher flicks (the later entries in the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise serving as a particularly reductive, unflattering point of comparison). This unenthusiastic reception failed to deter me from purchasing a copy of Media Blasters’ recent Blu-ray release (under the alternative title of Doomed Megalopolis 2) at this year’s Anime NYC convention, of course—and the official beginning of the Spooky Season seemed an appropriate occasion to finally give the disc a spin.

To the surprise of nobody familiar with my easily pleased cinematic palate, I disagree with the critical consensus. Despite its obviously lean budget—which necessitates a less sprawling cast and more modest special effects than the preceding film—The Last War still manages to feel ambitious within its relative limitations. Indeed, I’d even argue that the narrower narrative focus lends the plot a greater degree of urgency and momentum; it is, after all, significantly easier for the audience to become invested in a conflict that revolves around a small handful of genuinely sympathetic characters, as opposed to a bloated, unwieldy ensemble of vaguely sketched archetypes.

Additionally, it’s not as though the movie is lacking in visual flair; it is consistently as spectacular as it can afford to be. There’s an especially impressive sequence, for example, in which the nefarious Yasunori Kato (a role reprised by the inimitable Kyusaku Shimada, whose magnetic screen presence elevates every scene—including those in which he never physically appears) slaughters a group of soldiers in magnificently brutal fashion. One poor bastard is hoisted aloft by psychokinetic energy and slowly twisted in half at the waist; another is decapitated by flying debris, his headless corpse twitching and spasming for several seconds after the fact. The commanding officer, however, suffers the most gruesome demise: forced by supernatural means to clutch a live grenade, the man can do nothing but scream and flail in desperation until the explosive inevitably ignites, graphically (albeit not entirely convincingly) tearing him to shreds.

Ultimately, Tokyo: The Last War hardly deserves its less-than-stellar reputation; it’s perfectly enjoyable on its own merits. Sure, it veers closer to conventional horror than the series’ previous installment (which is best described as “epic urban fantasy”)—but as a fan of both genres, I find absolutely nothing wrong with that. Heck, in my opinion, this dramatic departure in tone and style only makes it more interesting. Not better, mind you—just compellingly different.

[selvie-blue]

Why So Private, Dick? An An Opinion Piece on Joseph Dain and the Slow Emergence of Frontal Nudity in ENM Media

After looking into the matter, I am putting up this post, again.. And if you want the article with the uncensored pictures, go here.

Joseph Dain. If this name doesn't sound familiar, it should. Let me jog your memory with one memorable scene:

Bullet – 1996

Picture it: two arrogant college-rich kids arrive in the bad part of town to score some drugs. But when they're forced up to the roof of an apartment building, they're not taught about the evils of drug use via a resurgence of the D.A.R.E. program. Instead, they're made to hand over their clothes before their threads star in the latest remake of Tom Petty's “Free Fallin',” as envisioned by the thugs throwing their garments over the roof. What follows is the two naked and embarrassed guys wandering around the building looking for some help. However, they seem to have forgotten that this is a town on the wrong side of the tracks, and people are more suspicious than helpful. So their attempts are in vain, much like D.A.R.E. attempted to try and convince their target audience that “drugs aren't cool.”

While this part of the film may be a staple in the community of those of us who follow such scenes, and while, yes, even I have gotten off to it a few times, there is one important thing missing. While you do see the two guys' butts for a while, their fronts are covered by their hands. Not to mention that the camera doesn't dare go south of the equator unless it's shielded and covered tighter than the chastity device on Amy Yasbeck's character in Mel Brook's “Robin Hood: Men In Tights."

The aggressor was played by Micky Rourke. A former heartthrob from the '80s who starred in films like “Diner”, “9 ½ Weeks” and “Angel Heart”. The dark-haired guy was played by Joseph Dain.

From about 2003 to 2004, Joseph Dain would parlay this exposure into a very short-lived portion of his career, where he starred in a few softcore movies involving minimal plots and men wearing minimal to no clothing. Imagine something like 2000's Voodoo Academy. Except instead of featuring beautiful guys in their jockey shorts, they featured hunks sans jockey shorts.

However, the same can't be said of Mr. Dain. He decided to carry on his modest status, even in films like this. And, for the longest time, I never understood it. Here, you have this good-looking guy surrounded by a bunch of other hunky, built dudes just letting their ding-dongs flop in the wind, while Dain only goes as far as to show this much:

Let's take his debut into this foray, shall we?

DAYDREAM OBSESSION – 2003

In the film, Dain plays a character named Clayton. Clayton is secretly obsessed with his best friend, Brian, played by Chris Michaels. Clayton is living with not only Brian but a bunch of other dudes in this bachelor pad scenario. Of course, all the guys look like centerfolds. While pining for Brian, Clayton gets lost in these fantasies where he's picturing the various men fashioning the suits they were born in.

Here is a breakdown of some of those guys:

We have Julian Cocoa as Raymond. A rent guy Clayton hires to put on a private performance for him while his roommates are away. Raymond then puts on a strip show and bares all.

Then, we have Steven. A neighbor played by Adam Blinn, whom Clayton spies on while he's washing his car before proceeding to fantasize about said neighbor in the buff.

And then we have Chris Michaels, playing his best friend. Near the end, Clayton can't take it anymore and wants to make his fantasy a reality. So, he does the reasonable thing and confesses to Brian, and they have a deep, meaningful conversation. Actually, no, no, that's not what happens. Clayton goes a little psycho, ties him to a chair, and then proceeds to rip his clothes off.

Again, all this male nudity, all this dick flyin' everywhere, and how much does Dain show of himself? Let's review:

That's pretty much it. So, you're tellin' me that this actor is starring in a movie where all these other guys are running around the set and revealing everything they've got to the camera and, even in one scene, where Dain, himself, is actually tearing the clothes off of one of the actors and we still see his penis, but all we get to see of you, Mr. Dain, is your butt? Oh, bravo, man. How brave you are to wiggle your ass for a few seconds while your co-workers are showing far more.

This wasn't just a one-time thing, either. Dain continued this imbalance of exposure in two more films: 2004's Group Therapy and 2004's sequel to Daydream Obsession, Daydream Obsession 2: Infidelities.

After these films, he left gay softcore erotica and moved on to low-budget horror and TV, according to his list of credits on IMDB. However, his main page on IMDB lists him as “Joe” Dain instead of “Joseph” Dain. And even though his softcore films are included, you'd have to scroll down and expand the “actor” category to see them. They're nowhere to be found on his main list of films he's starred in. It's almost as if he just wants you to forget about them.

But let's investigate why Joseph, I'm sorry, “Joe” Dain would want to put these movies far, far behind him. Is it because he's a fuckin' hypocritical prude who refuses to show much of anything, despite that being the main point of the films he was the main character in? HELL, YES!! But, hey, I'm not bitter.

The other reason is because of Hollywood itself. Only recently has full-frontal male nudity become less taboo, both in film and TV. Film, however, is slower on that front. This is mainly because all the people on the ratings board are hypocritical prudes and are more ready to condemn anything more sexual than they are to anything violent. I highly recommend you watch the 2006 documentary “This Film Is Not Yet Rated” to get more information on that. Not only is it a fun film to see, but it is highly informative and reveals how antiquated and unnecessary the MPAA is in today's world.

There has been more of a stigma against men showing what they've got between their legs than against women. And if “Joe” Dain were to actually go full frontal in these movies, then he may not have been able to proceed into the career he wanted for himself. All because the studios would have likely taken one look at his previous work and said, Oh, it looks like you were involved in gay porn. I'm sorry, but we are cleaner than that here. Okay, let's get ready for that graphic, bloody death scene. As for you, get out of our sight! You make us SICK!

Maybe it wouldn't have been that extreme, but, I'm sure, there would have been some bias and prejudice, at least causing some resistance in him moving forward simply by showing his willy.

Even though frontal male nudity is becoming more common, when it has come to ENM scenes in the past, especially ones involving disrobing or being disrobed by force, the penis was still only doing one show a year:

The Heist – 1989 skip to 23:10

Pierce Brosnan plays a man who's recently been released from prison after serving a four-year sentence for a crime he didn't commit. In this scene, he lures two goons down on the beach and shows he's packin'. An actual gun, that is. He makes the two henchmen undress. And when one of them asks, “Keep our shorts on?” Pierce's character slyly smiles and says, “Please.” We see this time and time again. A guy is running around with not much on, and the other men in the scene are not only trying to shield themselves from seeing anything, but they're also acting like they need a bucket to vomit in. Because another man's anatomy is just so offensive and so horrid to look at that it traumatizes them to such a degree that they end up in a mental institution: Poor George over there. Can't talk, can't speak. Because he was playing a game of strip Monopoly, and he happened to see a male player's beef bus swing from the corner of his eye.

At least in this scene, Pierce isn't that blatant about it. And even when one of the guys says he “can't swim,” he makes it a point to look directly at the guy's bikini briefs and respond by saying, “Of course not. You're a hunter, aren't you?” I'm not necessarily sure what that means, but I'm certain it's something snarky and British.

Pierce plays the part with less repulsion and, let's face it, homophobia as some other actors of the time in scenes similar to this nature. There's still an underlying shadow of rigidity. Honestly, I think he does the best he can with the material he's given, and his charm and charisma kind of make it work. And I'm not sure if looking at the dude's package was improvised or not, but I'd like to think so. If only for the fact that he wanted to play it with a certain level of comfort and shy away from a heteronormative train of thought that was the reality for many films existing in that era. And while there were plenty of homoerotic scenes made in the oblivious attempt to display machismo (I'm looking at you, valley ball scene from 1986's “Top Gun") it was still understood that they were only supposed to be shown up to a certain point. Perhaps the two guys showing rear ends after taking off everything may not have been what the director envisioned. But if this were to show frontal nudity of these two muscle-bound bouncers, it probably would have been slapped with an X rating, and there would be no chance of this getting a wide release. The film probably would have been even more obscure had the men bared all, and it wouldn't have been so easily found on YouTube.

Peaky Blinders

Peaky Blinders was a British series brought to the States and streamed on Amazon. (currently not a part of Prime, though). In this scene, Cillian Murphy makes two men undress for the visual pleasure of a couple of women. While we do get a nice look at their butts, we don't see any frontal nudity... at all. The camera even stops at the waist.

Okay, first off, this show is British. We're talking about a country that has a reality show about naked people competing to hook up. So, they have a show like that, but they can't even show a couple of guys' dicks in what, from what I understand, is a pretty violent and graphic show? The UK is usually more liberal than that. America may have a history of minimal frontal male nudity on the screen, but I am not sure why Britain would be following suit.

Crown Vic – 2019

Thomas Jane plays an officer who pulls over a guy to get more information from him. While doing so, he has the man perform a strip search in the street. And he doesn't even let him have his clothes back. It's a hot scenario, and one that I've certainly gone to the self-service station with.

However, as hot as this scene is, I still would have liked to have seen some dong from the guy being made to take his clothes off on a heavily populated city street.  However, I have to wonder: if that were the case, would this scene have been made public on ThisVid? As many of you know, while ThisVid is a great resource for ENM and even has quite a few scenes with frontal nudity, it's also notorious for the majority of those scenes being under lock and key, and whether you see them depends on whether the person that has that scene in their collection allows you access. I've found that that's kind of a 50/50 shot.

The actor that is being made to strip is played by Devon Werkheiser, who got his big break on the Nickelodeon show Ned's Declassified School Survival Guide. Maybe it was his choice not to go full frontal because this was how he got started. And, again, what does that say about our culture? That a man being seen fully from the front could do damage to his career? Why should it be? Wouldn't it show dedication to the scene? Be more authentic?

However, today, directors are actually taking more chances. In addition to queer storylines being put to the forefront, when it comes to ENM, the penis has been upgraded to a guest-starring role in more works. There's a liberation starting to happen:

Westworld – 2016-2022

Thandiwe Newton plays one of the robots that's been gaining more sentience in a futuristic park. In this scene, amidst a rebellion of the robots, she makes one of the developers, played by Simon Quarterman, strip completely naked, and you see Simon's uncircumcised penis flop around for a few seconds.

The Righteous Gemstones – Season 1, Episode 3

A group of thugs are hired to come in and start tearin' shit up to send a message to Eli Gemstone, played by John Goodman. However, Eli puts a stop to it with his handy gun and decides to send the person who hired these goons a message of his own. So he forces all of them to strip everything off.

While this scene does show some dick, I have to admit, I really would have liked to see some dick from the hot, beefy redhead.

From how John Goodman is playing it, I can totally picture him saying something like, Got something to hide? You weren't too shy about tearin' through this place. C'mon, let's see how much of a man you all are. You're all big and tough? Why don't you take those hands away and show us how proud and brave you are?

But, alas, he doesn't. I, personally, think it would fit the scene more, especially a scene like this brimming with bravado that is nearly devoid of any kind of homophobic or heteronormative subtext. If these men are made to take everything off, then we should be seeing them made to show everything off. Perhaps the ginger-haired actor in this scene didn't want to go full frontal, but how often do you think women were given the same choice in the past? Times may be changing, but there have been decades and decades of imbalance between male and female nudity to make up for.

And while we have made progress, we still get scenes like this:

Macgruber – 2021-present

The very hot and very hairy Will Forte is forced to strip completely naked by a group of mysterious kidnappers hiding behind the booming speakers from inside a tank. The scene is pretty nice, and it's another one I've certainly enjoyed in the past. However, when it comes to seeing Mr. Forte from the front, this is the best we get:

That is so far away that I don't even think Tumblr would consider this nudity. And why is the scene like this? Well, perhaps the answer lies in a comment made by Will Forte's character: “C'mon, guys, it's really cold out here!” Sure enough, everyone looks at Will's willy as if investigating the deep, philosophical answer to life's big questions.

Now, I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little tired of this. The ol' his-dick-is-so-small-it's-not-even-considered-fun-size joke as a reason to not show a dick in full display and close enough to appreciate it. I know that there are people out there who get off on the humiliation of small penises, or SPH, but I don't consider myself one of them. With that said, I'm sure even an SPH fan would have wanted to see what Will Forte had to show off, and not from FIFTEEN THOUSAND GOD-DAMN LIGHT YEARS AWAY! This may be a fetish, but I don't think that's why this scene was made. I think that this is a layover from the more restrictive days of TV. Using a guy's size to demean him and make him feel less than, and I, for one, would rather that be a relic kept in the past (aside from when it is a fetish and made for the sole purpose of satisfying that, I don't kink shame). In addition to the fact that there's this misogynistic intensity fused deep into the fabric of the thought process behind scenes like this. How often is there that joke made where a guy gets a magnum-sized condom to overcompensate? God forbid anyone to doubt your manliness and masculinity. Because you're a BIG MAN! Others shall cower at the sheer veracity, power, and strength of your throbbing piece of man meat. We should all be bowing to you and admiring such virility in the epitomes of masculinity. And while this probably wasn't what the director had in mind, it most likely is a joke that has its roots in such troubling groundwork.

For an example of a piece of media that's a little more brave, we have to go all the way to France:

Nu – 2018-present

Satya Dusaugey is certainly no stranger to frontal nudity, as he previously displayed in 2016's Tapette. Nu is a series about a police officer who wakes up from a coma and finds that societal standards about the body have changed. The law has made it so that, now, if you are clothed and covering up your private parts, it is considered indecent. Because of the culture shock, Satya's character endures due to this sudden pride in nudism and exhibitionism now being an integral part of society, he inevitably ends up in quite a few ENM scenarios. And unlike other works of media that involve a scene where a man's nudity is brought up in humiliating ways, they made this pretty much the entire premise of the show. Not only that, but they managed to work in some pretty complex emotions and even make it go deeper than just, well, skin deep. And Dusaugey, it seems, is not shy when it comes to his work. He plays the part to perfection. Because of his unabashed nature, we get many, many, maaaaany scenes where Satya's completely on display and has no qualms about acting in such exposing conditions. This kind of show probably wouldn't fly here in the States, even on streaming platforms like Netflix or Amazon, where actors like Nick Clifford have gone full frontal. While male nudity is getting there, I don't think the American streaming services may be ready for a show so matter-of-fact about the male genitalia.

As I said before, with platforms like ThisVid, the availability of ENM scenes involving frontal nudity being limited to private videos and a community that's split on the level of access to such media far outweighs the easily available videos you can find where a man is in a situation where his clothes are taken away and you see everything.

This video, for example, which I only know by the title:

Bearded Hunk Can't Keep His Clothes On

In this comedic short, a rather attractive man lives in a house that's haunted. But it's not haunted by any ghost. It's a ghost that randomly undresses him. The film work is inventive in how the guy's shirt opens up and his fly is unzipped, seen from accurate angles to give the appearance that his clothing is being removed by an invisible force.

This is an online video that I never really got into. I'm sure others will find it hot, but, as for me, it just pisses me off. Apologies to the actor here; he put a lot of effort and work into this short, and it shows. But for a video with such an inventive and sexy premise and this kind of talent behind the camera, there should be more of a pay-off, I think. You see, this ghost doesn't necessarily understand the concept of “naked.” It always stops at his undershirt and underwear. We don't even get to see his undershirt being removed. So, basically, he's dressed down to the point that he might as well be sporting a shirt and form-fitting shorts. Why aren't we seeing everything? Why isn't this unique and creative camera work being used to go further??

However, let's say it did go further. Let's say it not only stripped this nice-looking guy to nothing but forced his hands in place, and we actually see his dick swingin'. Would this actually be a public video? Would it be so easily found?

Let me answer that with a previous search I've done in the past. When I'm online and I go to just Google or Bing and look up “men forced to strip,” I do find scenes, but they're often scenarios and snippets either made for commercial networks where it's played safe or where it's just shy of seeing everything. But, in this same search, results of ENF, or embarrassed nude females, are mixed in. I didn't click on them because, well, quite frankly, I didn't want to, but I can tell from the titles and from the look of the images that it's fetish porn. And I can guarantee you that you see everything of these women.

So, in this same search where I'm looking for men, the results of frontal nudity are a rare gem to find. Yet, when it comes to women, there are actually more examples of forced exposure of frontal nudity, despite the fact that I just told the search engine that that wasn't what I was looking for.

A change is indeed happening. I'm seeing all around us that, as a society, we are getting tired of such an imbalance in the display of the female body compared to the male body. HBO, Amazon, Netflix, Hulu, and Shudder are all services with original works that include full-frontal male nudity. But when it comes to the fetish of ENM, that's still proving slightly more difficult to find. For the most part, a good number of them are still hiding behind the velvet rope of privacy functions and subscription-based platforms. And, ya know what? I get it. If you're a filmmaker, a creator who's spent money on resources to make and create such works, then, yeah, I believe you should have a profit. If you put in the work, you should have a financial benefit. But I also believe that if our ENM community had more creators who started making film projects with full plots and stories and resources to make a professional film that has fewer boundaries when it comes to male exposure, then who knows? It may have a snowball effect, and we can find ourselves in a place where these search results of fetish erotica actually have what we're looking for instead of the equivalent of having someone dig through the bargain basement bin and say, “Sorry, this is all we've got.” It's been the norm for women to be used as visual mediums of sexual expression pretty much ever since the first film near the beginning of the 20th century. That's still a standard and a basis of thought that has been sewn into the fabric of our cultural cornerstones, and it may be a while before we can move even further past that.

In fact, I have an idea for a future article where I'd like to list the stories I've written in the past that I would love to make into films. So, I'm getting the message out there. It's like that expression goes: Be the change you want to see.

Advances towards this movement may have started, but let's keep this train goin'. C'mon, filmmakers and show-runners, if you're going to have embarrassing nude scenes of men in your work, especially ones where they're forced to remove clothing or have clothing forcibly removed from them, let's see it all. Dick Tracy may be private in his investigations, but dick, itself shouldn't be concealed in evidence.

[hwauroras]

THROUGH THE INFINITE CANVASES OF YOU. (제3장)

pic sources in order left -> right: pinterest, pinterest, pinterest

wc ≈2.6k. unedited, mild cursing. painter!seonghwa x artstudent!reader (ft. musician!san, artstudent!wooyoung and artstudent!rockstar!hongjoong). written in two different perspectives - third person for seonghwa and second person for the reader. no massive genre yet - but this part expands more on wooyoung's journey as an artist. hongjoong jokes about wooyoung and the reader's friendship. hongjoong calls the reader "sweetheart" at the end. mentions of frozen yogurt - if you're lactose intolerant, it's dairy free.

“hyung hyung hyung, look at this!”

seonghwa tilted his head at the man on the couch, gently placing down the food he just ordered on the counter.

“what’s up?”

san quickly pointed to the article on his phone screen, his eyes wide with excitement. this album was by far his best, as well as his most famous.

when the release date for san’s album was approaching, anticipation and excitement flooded social media. the album had been kept relatively under wraps, with only the album cover and a few teaser images being released to the public.

while san wasn’t famous by any means - at least, not compared to most of his label mates, the curious and breathtaking nature of the album art caused a lot of intrigue and speculation. and when it was released, it seemed like san blew up overnight, peaking pretty high up in the music charts.

seonghwa peered at the article, his eyebrow raising slightly as his eyes scanned the words.

“oh, damn. seriously? aurora wrote a review?”

“yeah! and now they want to interview me. can you believe that? i’ve been reading that for ages. this is it, hyung. i’ve peaked.”

“oh really? you didn’t think you peaked when you reached a million streams? or when you gained an extra ten thousand followers, and then some? or when someone stopped us on the street for your autog—”

"hey, hey, that's not what i meant and you know it!” san interjected, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "i know those are all massive milestones i never thought were possible for me - but getting an interview with aurora is something else. you know i’ve bought basically every edition since their exclusive interview with kim hongjoong.”

seonghwa grinned, picking up a cushion and playfully hitting san with it.

“and you know i’m just messing with you. i know this is a big deal for you, and i couldn’t be prouder. you poured everything into this, i’ve seen the tears and coffee and red bull induced texts of borderline insanity. i’ve known you for ages san, you’re a true artist - it's incredible to see you finally getting the recognition you deserve."

“oh hyung, you’re being modest now. i couldn’t have done this without you. i mean, have you seen all the speculation around what the meaning of the cover could be? that’s why it went viral. are you sure you don’t want your name out there too? it’s your work after all.”

seonghwa fell silent.

on one hand, the exposure would be great for his business - which was stable, but he was still relatively unknown.

but on the other, how could he possibly betray his muse like that? he didn’t care if they were just a figment of his very deep imagination. to him, they were real. the emotions were real. profiting off of them just felt…wrong.

with a shaky breath, he managed to mutter out a gentle “i’m sure, san.”

san’s eyes softened as he watched the older male shift awkwardly. though a subtle gesture, san knew this was when seonghwa probably felt the most vulnerable.

"hey, it's alright, i understand. i wouldn't want you to compromise how you feel for anything, not even for me. they deserve to remain cherished and protected."

seonghwa’s shoulders visibly relaxed, causing san to smile warmly.

“thank you, san. i’m sorry. i know i must sound ridiculous.”

“don’t be like that. you’re not being ridiculous. i respect your decision and i want you to be comfortable. now - could you please pass me a smoothie? i think i need to cool down after all that excitement. i mean, my heart is still racing.”

seonghwa chuckled and retrieved the smoothies he ordered, handing one over to the younger. as san took a sip, he leaned back on the couch, his eyes fluttering closed as he let out a contented sigh.

“you know hyung, you've always been my first and biggest supporter. none of this would’ve happened if you weren’t there. and even if your name isn't in the spotlight, your influence and your art are all over my music. it’s you who helped me find my voice, both literally and metaphorically."

seonghwa playfully nudged san, who let out a small laugh at the action.

“oh san. i see you’re still practicing your humility for the interview.”

“hey,” san replied with a dramatic shrug, a glint of mischief in his eye. “no harm in getting ready, right? gotta give them something deep and profound.”

seonghwa shook his head, a fond smile on his lips.

“you’re a handful, you know that?”

“sure, but you love me anyway.”

“nah, your mom just dumped you in the sandbox i was in one day, and i’ve been stuck with you ever since.”

“oh yeah, the sandbox … that was one mean sandcastle, huh, hyung?”

~

“oh hell yeah, we were the real envy of the playground,” you couldn’t help but sarcastically remark as you peered at the picture in wooyoung’s hands.

wooyoung chuckled as he held up the old, slightly faded but intact photograph.

"you know it! that sandcastle was the talk of the playground for WEEKS."

the photo depicted a much younger version of the two of you - annoying little seven year old shits, as you had so eloquently worded it when wooyoung first presented the picture. you were both covered in sand and sporting proud expressions as you stood next to what was, admittedly, a creation very worthy of its praise - a giant mound of sand and some sticks. what really topped it off was the pretty pink shell you brought from home, after your moms took you both to the beach.

“you remember that shell, right?" wooyoung asked, a familiar twinkle in his eye.

you nodded, your own eyes glossing over with mischief.

“how could i forget, stupid? i was the one that found it, brought it to school and placed it ever so gently onto our masterpiece. i was a revolutionary. truly.”

"oh, for sure. and now you’re a top scoring art student. with such groundbreaking ideas like that, i’m not shocked.”

“well thank you, soon-to-be-industry-recognized photographer. seriously, what an amazing opportunity.”

you beamed at your best friend, your eyes and your heart filling with pride.

surprised by the sudden change of topic, wooyoung’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red.

“ah … thank you, y/n. i still can’t believe crescent wants me to be their photographer. i mean, i know it’s only for one edition, but … come on. this is choi san we’re talking about.”

“and i know you’ll do great. you were chosen for a reason, wooyoung. you don’t have any connections to the industry other than hongjoong, and you still got the job. that’s how you know that the reason is talent. pure, raw talent.”

"thanks, y/n. i’ll give it my all, just like that day in the sandbox."

you waved off his thanks with a flutter of your hand before reaching for his half-eaten frozen yogurt.

“that’s what friends are for, right? now, tell me more about this crescent gig, since you’ve been all vague about it lately. when’s the shoot? do you have any ideas for it yet? are you being paid like cha-ching or CHA-CHING? is it enough to buy froyo that’s better than this?”

wooyoung laughed at your rapid fire string of questions, shifting his position to face you more comfortably.

“let’s see … the shoot is in two weeks, yes i do, i’m being paid an undisclosed amount of money, and it may or may not be enough to buy froyo that’s better than that. but can i just say, i refuse to have you slander my choices. it’s the best flavor and you know it.”

“oh sweetie … i pity you for having such sad, tasteless tastebuds. but i can agree to disagree for the sake of my curiosity. what are your ideas?”

wooyoung took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding to your questions, stars shining in his eyes.

"well, for the shoot, i’ve been thinking of capturing san in his most candid moments. you know, those unguarded seconds when he’s lost in his music. the writing, the recording, the best, the melody. passion, emotion and vulnerability - i believe that's what makes his music so powerful. and luckily, with his look and aesthetic, i’m sure i could capture it in a way that exudes the sophistication and elegance crescent scouted me for.”

you listened intently as wooyoung described his vision. it was clear that he had put a lot of thought into it, and you couldn't help but be impressed by the confidence and passion that poured out of him as he spoke.

"that sounds incredible, woo," you replied, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "i have no doubt that this will all turn out beautiful.”

“thanks, y/n-”

“i mean, san is such a fine man. he’d look good in any lighting, i bet. he probably doesn’t have bad taste in frozen yogurt either.”

wooyoung burst into laughter, your playful teasing and dismissal bringing back a familiar lightness to the conversation. he playfully nudged your shoulder, and you stuck your tongue out at him in response.

"you’re impossible, y/n. anyway, san’s very photogenic, so the shoot should be a breeze. and maybe, just maybe, i’ll consider trying a different flavor of frozen yogurt once we’re done - just so you can let it go.”

as you were about to respond to wooyoung’s comment (the audacity), a voice from behind you interrupted the conversation.

“alright, lovebirds? i thought i’d find you here.”

turning around in your chair, you observed the figure leaning against the doorframe.

hongjoong stared right back, the intensity of his heavily lined eyes almost piercing into your soul.

“no lovebirds here, hyung. just two best friends in a room.”

“oh yeah, sure,” hongjoong scoffed, his signature smirk creeping onto his face. “and let me guess, they might kiss?”

“no, we won’t.”

“boo, you’re no fun, wooyoung. alright, make way. i need to talk to you.”

the now bright red ponytailed man slinked over to the table, the chains on his flared pants making a jingling sound as he walked. he grabbed a chair and turned it around, plopping down onto it nonchalantly, using the back of the chair as an armrest for his distressed-sleeved arms.

“okay, that picture is so fucking cute, but- that’s besides the point. wooyoung. buddy. i’m gonna hit you with some bad news and then immediately replace it with good news. you ready?”

“lay it on me, hyung.”

“i spoke to the guys. and they’re not that interested in working with you to be honest. but you know who are? the hotshots over at lost island records.”

wooyoung’s eyes widened at hongjoong’s words, and a hand flew to your mouth. his curiosity piqued, your best friend leaned closer to the older man.

"lost island records? are you serious, hyung? how did you even manage to do that?”

“they have an email, dumbass. i just compiled some of the demos, and sent them in. they got back to me a couple of hours back, when i was working on a piece for the upcoming runway. i would’ve come earlier if i wasn’t being graded.”

“that’s … really huge. this is amazing, hyung! i’m at a loss for words, we’re going-”

“they only want you, wooyoung.”

wooyoung’s excitement shifted into a mix of confusion and surprise the moment the words left hongjoong’s lips. he blinked, processing the news, while you sat there, equally dumbfounded and trying to wrap your head around the very sudden and jarring turn of events.

lost island records, THE lost island records, a prestigious and famous music label known for its top-tier artists including choi san, was interested in art student jung wooyoung over up and coming artist kim hongjoong?

“w-wait, but … why only me, hyung? this doesn't make any sense. those are OUR demos. and YOU’RE the actual musician …”

“i don’t care for that label, to be honest. you’re a much better fit. so i just cut my parts out. they’re not our demos anymore, they’re yours.”

the classroom, which was empty except for the three of you and some easels, seemed to hang in suspense as hongjoong dropped this bombshell.

you watched the exchange, torn between excitement and concern for your best friend. hongjoong’s nonchalant, almost dismissive attitude toward the situation was baffling, and it took everything in you to not question him about it.

luckily, wooyoung finally found his voice again.

“hyung, i can’t do that. you did most of it, and i’m pretty clueless when it comes to music, compared to you. music is your life, i can't just leave you out of it.”

hongjoong offered a small smile, and lightly punched the younger on the arm.

“i’m almost offended you don’t seem to know that my dream isn't necessarily tied to a record label, wooyoung. it’s why i still do what i do and haven’t accepted any offers. trust me, i’ve had many. if i wanted that backing, i’d have it by now. i don’t care who hears it, i don’t care how many people hear it - as long as it resonates. i’m sure you’ll figure out how to-”

“i’m turning it down.”

wooyoung’s declaration hung heavy in the air and hongjoong, who had been so casual and nonchalant just mere moments ago, now stared at him with wide eyes - as if wooyoung were some kind of poltergeist.

"you’re turning it down?"

wooyoung nodded firmly, his expression determined and confident.

“yes. i’ve still got the photoshoot with crescent so it’s really no big deal. but if i’m making music, it’s with you. or with y/n, but like, that might not be the best idea unless i’m planning on making music that sounds like a dying whale.”

with your brain still buffering and in need of a full reset, you couldn’t think of a clever quip in time. so of course, you decided to settle for the only answer you were capable of mustering -

“fuck you.”

“aww, thank you! you’re an amazing friend too, y/n!”

the tension in the room seemed to completely evaporate as the banter between you returned, and hongjoong’s initial shock transformed back into his usual smirk as he leaned back in his chair, clearly very amused by the scene unfolding in front of him.

"wow, wooyoung," he added, "i am both shocked, and not at all. turning down an opportunity like this for the sake of loyalty. i knew you were the sappy one but i also thought you were supposed to be the rational one in this little friendship of ours.”

wooyoung, who was not the least bit bothered by the older’s jests, smiled warmly.

“oh don’t worry, i am. but, you know music is your passion, not mine. mine lies in photography, and i have an opportunity for that so not all is lost. i appreciate this, i really do, but i’d rather be true to myself, and create with the people who matter to me the most.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes dramatically, but there was an unmissable glint of respect and admiration in them.

“ugh, barf. you’re such a sentimental sap, wooyoung. it's kind of endearing. but … still gross.”

you couldn't help but laugh with them, relieved that the tension had all but disappeared. despite the unexpected turn of events, and despite how much you agreed with hongjoong, you were proud of your best friend for sticking to the morals you knew were very authentic and genuine.

shifting your focus to the pretty red haired man, you mirrored his expression and tapped his arm.

“hey, hongjoong. quick question.”

“go ahead, sweetheart.”

“what do you think of wooyoung’s frozen yogurt?”

“i swear y/n, if you don’t shut the damn hell up-”

~

TAGLIST: @hwalysm, @downbadreading, @joongs-moon

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: I hope you all enjoy this random idea.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

One hand guides the fabric as the other turns the wheel. Your work is slow but steady, every stitch perfect, every seam precise. Your fare may be modest and your product simple, but its quality cannot be contested. Your labour as yourself is honest and plain.

The noise of the machine is your only company. The one-room shop nestled behind the butcher’s rarely sees a customer through its door. Instead, the orders are sent from the factories, returned with the printed adverts you disperse outside their doors. The writs are sent along with an envelope of pence and shilling and you complete each with equal diligence before sending them back bundled in paper and twine.

The operation isn’t especially fruitful but the profit is enough to subsist. Enough to guarantee your independence; a small apartment just above and a pot of stew to last you through each week. This humble existence is preferable to any marriage you’ve witnessed. 

The letters from your sisters reaffirm your spinster’s fate. You’d rather a hand wheel and a needle than a brood and broken back. A husband seems to provide several jobs at once, you’ll happily settle for one.

As your hands work from memory and your head wanders from tedium, the bell above the door gives a single sharp toll. You ease the wheel to a halt and leave the seam unfinished. You peer up above the black iron machine, reminding yourself to fix your hunch as a client enters. You can’t but wonder if he may have come to the wrong shop.

By his attire, he is a class above the factory women who require gray skirts and simple stays. His waistcoat is embroidered and his jacket is pressed and clean. He is tall, locks part tidily so his curls lay gracefully. His face is fresh-shaven, square jaw with a cleft, and shoulders broad and strong. He does not share the same sinewy gauntness as the labourers with the coal-dusted noses.

He carries a fine leather bag. Another clue to his status. His shoes, another. Polished and without creases.

You stand to greet him, “good afternoon, sir. Might I help you with something?”

His answer is not prompt. He takes in the finished dresses hung by the east wall and turns to examine the rolls of wool and cotton. At last, he returns his attention to you.

“Afternoon,” his deep timbre fills the small space, “you are the dressmaker.”

It isn’t a question, but you answer, “I am.”

He narrows his eyes as he approaches your desk, the sole fixture in the space. From without, the shop is just as bare. The blackened windows offer not insight into the business, its only suggestion the sign hung above the door, though the paint requires a fresh coat.

“And the shop owner?”

“That is me as well, sir,” you assert. The presumption is not uncommon.

“Ah,” he accepts your explanation without comment, “so, you will have sewn this.”

He puts his bag on the desk, nearly knocking your shears from the corner. You try not to flinch as they teeter near the edge and he pulls open the top of the leather bag. He pulls out a swath of grey. You recognise it and he rolls the cuff to show your initials sewn within.

“Sir,” you say precariously, “is there some issue with it? Is it your wife’s dress?”

“Wife? No, no,” he dismisses, feeling the fabric between his fingers, “rather I am in search of the dress’s owner. The initial must belong to them, yes? So you would have a name for the buyer.”

“Mm, no, those are mine,” you point at the letters, “as it is my handiwork.”

“That makes sense,” he frowns in disappointment. “So you wouldn’t know who would wear it?”

You rub your chapped lips together. You find your tongue sliding over them often when you work, turning them raw with the habit. The man’s lips are rosy and smooth, as well-kempt as the rest of him. He is no factory worker’s husband.

“I might… would you take it out?” You ask.

He obliges as you pluck up the metal cylinder from your desk and unfurl the tape measure from within. He shakes out the dress, holding it by the shoulders to reveal salt stains along the skirts and unleashing a dingy smell in the shop. You wiggle your nose at the stench but worse roils in from the butcher’s on hot days.

You take the measure of the sleeves and the waist, then to the hem. You scribble the numbers on a scrap and take that to compare with your ledger. The measurements are in now way defining but might narrow it down. He keeps the dress aloft and you return to him to check the thread along the seams. A few months ago, you changed the thickness as the factory workers complained of splits under the arms.

“Hm, it is a recent purchase,” you assure him and return to the ledge. 

He lowers the dress and approaches. You snap the book closed and turn your face up to consider him once more, “why do you need to know, if it is not your wife?”

“You are very discerning,” he remarks as he folds the dress and drapes it over his bag, “I’m certain then you can surmise the woman who wore this dress did not meet a kind fate.” He tugs up the hem and shows a tear trimmed in scarlet, the colour not obvious from a distance. “Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. I’m a detective and I’m trying to identify a poor woman found not far from here. I believe it is in your own interest that I discover her assailant.”

“I cannot say for certain which she is,” you turn over the scrap and re-open the ledger. You write down three names which match the measurements and hold the paper out to him. He takes it, his thick fingertips brushing yours. “Those are the ones which align with the dress.”

“Mm,” he hums as he tucks the paper into his chest pocket, “and your name? I couldn’t make it out on the sign.”

You recite your name flatly, “it isn’t on the sign.”

“It requires new paint,” he admonishes, “I could hardly find you.”

“I am aware,” you reply. “Thank you for noting.”

He’s quiet, “being a detective, however, I did indeed put together the clues.”

Is he making a joke? You cannot tell. He folds up the dress completely and puts it back in the leather bag. The smell persists.

“What are you prices?” He asks abruptly.

“Sir, I sew dresses for factory women, sometimes a few communion pieces, but I’m afraid I don’t do much suit work.”

“My sister requires a dress,” he sniffs, “as simple as it is, I can see your work is fine.”

“I have only wools and cottons,” you counter.

“Do you always turn away business?” He challenges.

“I wasn’t, sir, I’m only clarifying what I currently do. My prices are set for those fabrics,” you explain.

“I will pay for the muslin and velvet,” he waves his hand staunchly, “you will be paid for your labour. Can you sew with more than wool and cotton?”

“I can, sir, but you could find a ready-made dress in a market boutique if the dress is required promptly.”

“I can afford the time and coin,” he insists. “You are not a talented advertiser, are you?”

You’re taken aback by his bluntness. Often, his ilk have that demeanour. It’s why you’d rather the factory workers and the fish sellers’ wives.

“I suppose not,” you agree, “I would need measurements before I begin. You may send the numbers along with the fabric, then. And I would require a style. Perhaps your sister is a purveyor of fashion magazines?”

“I will send a messenger,” he shrugs. “Thank you for your time. I shan't get in your way any longer.”

“Good day, sir.”

“Good day to you,” he takes the bag from your desk and the shears fall to the floor with a clatter.

You skirt around to grab them as he bends and swipes them up first. You recoil as he closes the blades with a snap. He examines them before placing them back on the desk.

“Apologies,” he says, “and miss,” he looks at you, “take to heart what I’ve told you today. Keep away from the allies and perhaps you may consider locking your door.”

“Thank you, sir, your concern is appreciated.”

“Rather you might just keep those close, eh,” he points to the shears and his cheek dimples.

Again, you can’t be certain of his humour. You keep a placid expression, neither smiling nor scowling. He clears his throat and runs his hand down his jacket, gripping the lapel.

“Very well then, I’ll be off.”

He turns on his heel and marches to the door. You stay by the desk as the bell rings with his departure. Once the door closes, you cross the shop. You turn the lock into place, his foreboding lingering with the stale scent of dirty water.

🪡

Despite the unusual visit, your days roll on like a hand on a clock. The thought of the woman’s tragic fate looms like a shadow but fades. You have too much stitching to do to fret over that man and his ominous words. You assume his interest in your work thereafter was wholly feigned as he does not return.

That day, you pass off six parcels to Eustace, the driver who takes them down to the stacks to hand off to the floor bosses who will parse them out to the women they’ve been cut for. You pay him his toll before he climbs back into the seat of his cart, his horse kicking impatiently.

“Excuse me, sir,” another driver clops up along the other side of the street, a narrow squeeze between the slanting buildings. “I’m in search of a dressmaker. I believe the store is tucked behind the butcher’s and…” the man’s voice drifts off as his eyes flit to the meat sellers marquee.

“Right here, good sir,” Eustace responds, “wouldn’t ya know, she’s right here.”

You lift your chin to see past the cart and spy the driver. He removes his cap as his gaze meets yours. Eustache dips his chin as he adjusts his own hat and snaps his old mare into a canter. As you're left alone with the carriage driver, a vehicle rather lofty for a block like this, you fold your hands behind you.

“Sir, you hardly look in need of a work woman’s dress,” you say.

“Miss,” he ties the reins off and jumps down from his seat, “I am sent for you, not a dress.”

“For me?” You echo.

“Mr. Holmes has sent,” he crosses the muck and nearly slips. “He said he made an appointment for a seamstress.”

“An appointment? I wasn’t informed of the time,” you rebuff. “I’ve a shop to run, orders paid for. I can’t simply leave.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Holmes made mention of a fee,” the man feels around his striped coat, “he said a deposit would be needed.”

He takes out a brown envelope and hands it over. You take it, a small weight within. You look at the driver before you pull back the flap and peek inside. A large gold sovereign sits in the corner of the paper; a whole pound. That’s at least three days work.

You hold your breath, trying to maintain some composure. If that’s the deposit, what is he offering for the rest? You slip out the folded paper within, a page torn from a fashion journal. The dress is elegant if not extravagant. You don’t often do off-the-shoulder or ruffles like that but it isn’t beyond your skill.

You fold the flap closed again and lift your chin to face the driver, “I must lock up, you see?”

“Take your time, miss,” he says kindly. “Mr. Holmes isn’t expecting you to hurry.”

“Thank you, sir,” you bow your head and turn away.

You measure your steps along the facade of the butcher’s shop and curl around to the alleyway. You let yourself into your shop and tuck the envelope into your apron pocket. You take your sewing bag from under the desk and shake off the dust. You don’t often have reason to use it.

You open it up and pack away your shears, a measuring tape, pins with a cushion, your notebook, and a few other bits and bobs. Just in case. You grab a role of linen from against the wall. It’s heavy but you can manage.

You take the key from your desk drawer and switch off the overhead light. You lock the door and continue back out to the street. The driver puffs smoke from a pipe as he waits.

“Miss, allow me,” he snuffs out the pipe and puts it in his pocket. He nears and reaches for the roll of linen.

“It’s quite alright, sir,” you say.

“I insist, miss, can’t have a lady doing all that,” he takes it, not forcefully, and you let him.

As he goes to the carriage and opens the door, you give pause. You don’t know if you should be so easily swayed on a gold coin. Mr. Holmes hadn’t been entirely pleasant and you do prefer your simple work. Still, you can hardly turn your nose up at a pound. Not with the summer fizzling to a finale.

You lift your skirts and cross the street to the open carriage, “sir, might I have a name?”

“Gavin,” he answers, “and I have yours. Mr. Holmes made sure of it.”

“Yes, very good,” you say as you approach, another sliver of doubt trickling through. Mr. Holmes claimed to be a detective but is that really the reason he was strolling around with a dead woman’s dress? You gulp and look at Gavin then the carriage, “might I keep the window open?”

“Surely you can,” he agrees amiably. “Mr. Holmes lives quite a ways, shouldn’t mind the air. I’ll be certain to stay away from the stacks.”

“Thank you, sir,” you accept his proffered hand and he helps you up into the carriage. 

You settle on the bench as the door shuts and you open the window from within. You lean back, your hand grasping the top of your bag. You unclasp it as you feel Gavin climb up on the driver’s seat. You dip your hand inside and clutch your long shears.

You don’t forget all of what Mr. Holmes said.

[sketchfanda]

Chestnut Stud across the Multiverse: Warrior Monk review: Pacifica Northwest

At a local tropical resort, a hot young tanned platinum blonde piece of ass stretched and hummed as she walked around the vicinity of the hotel swimming pool. Basking in her owl glory as she could see heads turning from local and tourist alike at the sight of her which only made to give her ego a fine boost. Yes she was sexy and she damn well knows it, naturslly so did they, why wouldn’t they want to look? But this was nothing compared to the good mood she was in and the reason for causing said mood in the first place. Which she keeping nice and snug,safe and sound In her hotel room and it just made her tingly in all the right places as she grinned at spying her friends who she invited to join her on this little vacation trip. A deep sigh of satisfaction escaping her pretty pouty lips as she got their attention and did a little stretching, “Whew,jackie,Wendy…sorry I’m late girls, my roommate went above and beyond today…and let me tell ya..” the young debutant spoke as she parked herself right in the comfy pool chair, her body relaxing as she let out a lusty,relaxed shudder. Almost sexual or orgasmic eben as she continued, her two companions giving her some very deadpan stares. ““I got so fuckin’ LAID!! Wooo damn,ooooh my poor, poor womb..” she purred snd hummed she rubbed said spot around her stomach. The camel toe of her pussy visible thrive her pink thong swimsuit. Licking her lips as she took delight in the looks from Jackie and Wendy, giving them a look as if to say ‘Jelous?’

“Classy pacifica…..” snaked Wendy, the ginger redhead freckled tomboy quite a stunner, with a sensual bidy with muscle tone honed from a freak growth spurt and years of rugged activity and lumberjack work with the tan especiallt to show for it. Jackie lynn Thomas was quite the toned,tanned freckledmtombiy herself bottom heavy with the legs and ass to show it along with a tan from decades of dedication to the craft of surfing and skateboarding. Her hair a wild curly blonde mane with some noticeable blue streak. The pair’s swimsuits Especially did wonders to show off their stunning bodies even if they were modest compared to Pacifica’s own. Their snarky glares at the valley girl as she had her legs positioned in a way as she sat, practically spread and showin off her cameltoe. They swear they could it quivering under that thing of hers as she shamelessly basked in their reactions, her expression radiating smug satisfaction. ““That what You calling your dildo? Because last me and Jackie checked when we rode in here? You came alone besides us and we haven’t seen You take any guy here back to your room…” the redhead quipped as Jackie nodded beside her. Indeed for someone who lived the kind of life she did and the looks she had, she could have her pick of many dude here. Yet here she was not having been seen flirting with any of them. When you were pacifica northwest,emancipated heiress and social media influencer, the dating world was your oyster and a regular all you can eat buffet.

Pacifica simply grinned a catlike minx smile a she licked her lips, having expected Wendy or Jackie to get curious like that. Sensually humming snd purring as she checked her pool bag beside her and reached into it,fishing around to locate something. Finding exactly what she was looking for as she took out her cellphone “Ooh I’m mot talking about a dildo you lovely lady friends of mine. My roomie is much better then that and the next best thing to a boyfriend but then again with his food he is, I might never need a man at all..” the platinum blonde purred sensually as she unlocked her phone and accessed her photo and video gallery.  Biting her lio as she found what she was looking for and accessed it, turning it around to show them the screen as the video began to load and buffer. “Normally I’d say checkout Capsule Cocks’ video review tab but this is the next thing since I have the original…” thst got Jackie and Wendy’s attention even more than Paz already. Capsule Cocks? As in the special Rated R to XXX branch of adult sex toys and items from the one and only Capsule Corp. Social media related to them was ablaze with praise for their products but one common set of words tended to get thrown around here and there. Something called the Warrior Monk? When finally the video began to play as the lair glued their eyes to the screen.

Soon the platinum blonde bombshell appeared on the digital video clewrly using some sort of special camera drone which captured her stunning body in head to toe. Which was highlighted by the bright hot electric pink outfit she wore as she adjusted her violet jacket and gave her long wild styled blonde mane a flip. Blowing a kiss at the camera as she began to speak. “Hello out there all you bored singles and what not who decided to brighten your dull lives by checking out this video. Now when you’re a girl like me with independence and a lot of money but too much free time? Well life doesn’t sommuch gives you lemons but the way to make lemonade out of them..” she spoke as the camera showed what had to be her bedroom in what was some sort of deluxe luxury penthouse. As bent over,the camera getting a fine view of her pink clad juicy bubble butt as it wiggled and swayed. The heiress giving a hum of satisfaction as she took out a simple box and opened it, taking out a simple,single Dyno-cap. Holding it between her thumb and pointer finger as she examined it inquisitively. “In my case I met up with the head honcho of Capsule Corp at some party,can’t remember what it was for or what we talked about exactly. But she personally sent me this a gift and all I got to do is accept a sponsorship deal for Capsule Cocks. That is after I review whatever this is,she was insistent I do this soon as I got this so here we go…”“with that said, she gave a click to the capsule and threw it, the coloured smoke blasting as a cryo-contained appeared, the bombshell debutant humming as she pushed the button to open it. Brow raised as out came a compact 5′1′’ fellow,shorter than her by a few feet and inches, clad in tight boxer Spatz and not impressing her in the slightest. Walking around as she examined him and looked him over from head to toe and found some sort of pamphlet manual inside the container which she began to west out loud.

“Congratulations on your acquisition of our most popular product. The Warrior Monk is,in our humble opinion, our finest product in Capsule Cocks’ special Line of full bodied autonomous techno-organic sexual performance gynoids” Hat made the heiress quirk her brows in deadpan disbelief. This little runt was some kind of sexual android and the best they had? She found that hard to believe as she confined to read the pamphlet over. ““His popularity stems from his physical skill and sexual performance which are very high level and world class. Once you’ve bonded erotically with your Warrior Monk, he will be 100% devoted to you in ensuring your carnal needs are fulfilled and then some…” Pacifica pouted cutely as she discarded the pamphlet, clearly disappointed as she had been expecting something a lot more than this. Sighing as she shrugged her shoulders, seeing the Warrior Monk silently and stoically observe her. Watching as she shrugged off her violet cost, exposing her bare,suntanned shoulders as the camera caught her exposed backside flexing muscles bought about by some swimming. Pacifica continued to hum absent mindedlt as she leaned in close to the Krillin clone,draping her arms around his shoulders. A hum of approval as if she found or felt something impressive as her hands traced along his muscles. Fingers tracing ever inch of what was quite the physique from the sculpted biceps and triceps to the washboard abs.

“Well now you’re certsimly no string bean or stubby runt that’s for sure…and looking at you a bit better,you’re pretty easy in the eyes. Not what I’d call macho or pretty but…kind of handsome and cute in your own way…” Paz quipped as she planted some kisses on his face. Before soon pressing to his as she locked lips with him, soft sensual moans escaping her as she felt him respond, gasping as he found her wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer to deepen their kiss. Her bright blue eyes widening as she found him quite proactive and reactionary to say the least. As she found his tongue in skin her mouth, exploring and seeming to want to memorise thst oral cavern as pacifica squirmed and clenched her thighs. Her body language in the video making it clear she was getting wet from this make out, gasping as they swapped spit and shuddered at feeling his hands move to grab her ass with a firm squeeze. Breaking their liplock as she panted for air,an erotic gleam twinkling in her eyes as she brushed her lush mane. “Mm well now maybe you might be living up to your hype after all little man…” sensually licking her lips, pacifica came to find thst cool,mute gaze on her quite..exhilarating as if his attention being focused on her,and her alone. It was delicious as she grabbed and unzipped her outfit,peeling it off as she kicked off her boots and wiggled her sexy toned pornographic bodied self out. Humming as she noticed the crotch of his boxers was beginning to develop a swell and bulge indicating he was certainly endowed. Standing naked before him with her juicy tits and her bouncy bubble butt as she did a twirl and pose for him, shaking her booty as she leaned to him,arms hugging her tits together with a squeeze as she took enjoyment in his attention focused on her. Culling his face in ernhands as she caressed it with growing tenderness, pouting adorably as she gave his cheek butterfly kisses.

“But you know it’s so unfair I’m the only one naked….so what say we change that and see what I’m going to be laying with. Better hope Briefs didn’t stick me with a lemon…” the heiress mused as she knelt down on her silk carpet floor, grasping the waistband of those boxers and pulling them down. Flinching as she felt Something heavy smack her face with an uppercut as she shook the dizziness out. ““What the bell little ma-!? Oh,my…GOD!!” Video pacifica and Jackie and Wendy bith echoed the same statement as they be helped the sight before them. The biggest,thickest cock they’d ever laid eyes on as it stood erect and pulsed with raw desire, the length and girth veiny and bound to a set of smooth,heavy balls. Pacifica taking delight jn their reactions as she gestured their attention back to the video where her recorded self  began to pant and drool,as if the scent snd sight of this dick,no this COCK was sitting off Something in her brain, like a switch was flipped. Her brain tapping into deep primal instincts, those inner animalistic drives to mate and breed with a raw,virile alpha male. Grasping her Warrior Monk’s cock as she stroked and massaged it,her expression one of growing lust an desire as she shot him a sultry gaze. “Okay then I take back any negative comments I said before….you’re definitely living up,to your reputation…got it right where it counts but…you know how to use it?” She purred as she licked her lips and planted kisses along his length from tip to base. Even his balls got a smooch and a lick as her pussy fished and quivered staining the carpet with her nectar.

Before Jackie and Wendy realised it,the video feed from the drone shifted to show pacifica laying flat on her back on her bed. Her head hanging off the edge of the mattress,her blonde mane swaying as her wide blue eyes flowed with pink hearts as her Warrior Monk was providing her with a powerful facefucking. He neck bulging from the invasion of his length and girth  as he pumped his shaft into her mouth,pistoning like a sexual jackhammer. Her moans muffled as her oussy was squirting like a geyser indicating how hard she was cumming,clutching the bed sheets as her compact stud laid atop her in a 69 position, massaging her hips and thighs along with her juicy,meaty as as he licked away at her pussy, drinking uo from the shower of juices that sprayed his face. It was clear Paz didn’t start off easy or gentle and that what was fast becoming her favourite toy and best friend in her life was aiming to give timeto her thst way because that’s how she wanted it. Jackie and Wendy could feel their swimsuit thongs become soaked as their own pussies gushed, faces flushed with red blushes of arousal  as pacifica played them her little amateur porn show. The video really kicking into high gear as the sunlight shining through Pacifica’s penthouse marked the passage of time.

The video had shifted from the 69 facefucking to Paz riding her Warrior Monk cowgirl style. Hands clasped with his together as she bounced on hismcock with abandon, tongue wagging out as those hearts glowed in her eyes. Deep moans pouring forth from as her as jiggled and her tits bounced. “Oh fuck,oh god,it’s too much!! It’s too good,I’m gonna die! Who needs any other man when I’ve got you!! Oh godI’m falling in love with my sex toy!” She cried and howled as the scene then shifted to her in reverse cowgirl position,panting like the bitch in heat she was as her compact stud massaged and smacked her ass like some erotic bongo drum. Then next came her taking it doggy style as she knelt on the bed in her hands and knees, tits swaying,ass jiggling as he held her waist and pumped away until she couldn’t ho,sup her upper torso. Face falling onto the bed as she hit onto the sheets,her ass raised high as her new lover kept tucking her. Soon she found herself laying front flat,still biting the sheets as she clutched them, drooling as her stallion laid atop her. Kissing along her neck and shoulders as his hips blurred,such was the force and speed of his virility. Who knows how many time they had been drumming together or individually as the pornographic montage kept going. Not one bit of momentum stopping as Paz took load after load in her pussy,her ass,her mouth, her tanlined skin glistening with sweat as finally,the sun seen setting,she laid together in the messed up bed. Sheets in disarray and soaked with sweat and juices as pacifica laid in bed with her short king,their loins connected as they snuggled and made out sensually with passion,their newfound bond forged and connected. The video ending as Paz looked smugly at her two gal pals, whose facial expression were,ones of pure voyeuristic arousal. They were clearly in shock and yet amazed at the same time by what they just witnessed as she giggled sensually.

“He’s safe and snug in his sleeping chamber in Capsule mode,I need to let him have his rest. I couldn’t not take him with me,I never leave home without him. Who needs some sleazy baby dicked chumps and minute men when all you need is a Warrior Monk in your lives…” Paz shuddered as her pussy fished,feeling the phantom sensations of her Krillin clone’s godly cock. His,lips,his touch,his flavour, she was addicted and she knew it. And oh how she loved it. Taking delight in how Wendy and Jackie went from deadpan to borderline bitches in heat. ““I’d highly recommend ordering your own but if you want to be really sure? I think my compact stallion woild be more than anle and up for handling the 3 of us at once…wouldn’t be his first time that’s for sure,what can I say,I like to make sure Capsule Cocks get their money’s worth and so do you….naturally I need to have your permission to record it,consider it yiur reviews….we got a deal ladies…” the blonde’s grin grew as Wendy and Jackie shared a look and nodded, making it clear they wanted her to take her to her room and they could have a personal up close hands on look see at this hih class quality sex toy. Because god damn no way they were passing this up, good men were hard to come by and if Capsule Cocks were growing and making them? Not damn they wanted what got the Pacifica Northwest personal quality seal of approval that was for Damn sure. Jackie herself shuddering as she recalled her brief stay with the actual Warrior Monk himself during her time as a college au pair. God how long had it been since Daddy Krillin….

[mechanical-magician]

BOMB RUSH CYBERFUNK HEADCANONS: RISE EDITION

Headcanon Directory >>

> BRITISH

> She lives out of her hippie van, it's all supped up for living in!

> She's 24 now, but she's been living out of her van on the move since she was 18.

> Rise started her travels in France, and initially was only doing it to just get away from everything back home. Her parents, the authorities, school; she just wanted to leave it all behind and take up being a rudie full time

> A few months in, she started vlogging her lifestyle and actually started to gain a modest following. Slowly over the years, she's become a micro-celebrity in the lifestyle and rudie communities!

> Rise has traveled basically the entirety of Europe at this point, but has always found herself returning to New Amsterdam. She just loves everything about the city!

> She was in an online relationship with the leader of Devil Theory, Osiris, for a few months, before meeting him IRL and dating like that as well. However, she felt it was better for both of their careers if they split off. But also, she internally has found that she's scared of committing to staying in once place. She knows Osiris would never leave his crew, so she knew it was for the best if they went their separate ways.

> That isn't to say that she's not still friends with Devil Theory! While they DO get a little pissed about her doing her stuff on their turf, all she has to do is offer them some cool rocks or something and they'll skitter off like gremlins

> Bel absolutely has a celebrity crush on Rise

> Rise is a social media influencer, but she doesn't see herself as being shallow. She rose to where she is through not only her looks, but also her ability to show off her skills in skating and graffiti. She's an inspiration to all soon-to-be writers/rudies.

> She snorts when she laughs :]

> Rise loves trying all new foods local to where she travels. She likes to find the most obscure, hole in the wall, places and try them. Good reviews from her usually cause a small boom in that place's popularity!

> She's multilingual! English, French, Dutch, and German she's all fluent in! She's working on other languages as well

> She's VERY sensitive to light, and so she wears her shades everywhere for that purpose. They're extra dark to help her out :]

> The police have tried to cancel her

> They failed

> "The bird flu? Yeah... they kind of do that."

> Pansexual!

[samiabadilah]

Week 11 Progress Update

As we enter week 11, GreenBlade Lawn Care is gradually gaining momentum. This week, we earned $55 on our best day, thanks to a couple of new clients who signed up for our sustainable lawn care packages. We've been focusing on delivering exceptional service, and it’s starting to pay off with positive reviews and referrals. Our social media presence has grown slightly, helping us reach more potential customers. Although our revenue remains modest, we're encouraged by the consistent interest in our eco-friendly services. We're committed to continuous improvement and look forward to expanding our client base as we approach the final weeks of this project.

[zaidshair]

ABOUT

[ KUKKUTARMA ]  [ INSPO]

BASICS: Name: Zaid Shair (Zah-eed Shayh-yeer) Age: 41years old. he's a cancer that's all I know so far Gender & Pronouns: Cis man - He/Him Place of birth: Sheffield, England PERSONAGE: Previous occupation: executive chef and owner of two fine-dining restaurants: - in London, Mango (successful) - in New York, Chutney (derisive) Powers: plasma blasts. Zaid passively absorbs cosmic energy, like a living storage cell. Energy must be released by force. Crystal bracelet: green malachite First impressions: Zaid can be intense, but soft-spoken and calm. He knows how to be friendly and personable. He can let his emotions get the best of him. He does have a Mr Hyde to his Dr Jekyll, but that only comes out in certain circumstances

PLOT IDEAS:

cooking baba: an obvious outcome for Zaid on the island. His passion for cooking is greatly diminished, but needs must for survival on a strange island, and everyone knows food boosts morale. Something to do with cuisine, be it connections pre-island, hunting/gathering, planning/rationing, food-sickness, cooking, etc!

fwb: Zaid is hurting, they're hurting too. good thing they're both attractive, because then pain becomes beautiful and sexy, right? power play: figuring out powers! working together or against each other! lots of room for experimentation here adventure time: I love adventure plots and there's ample grounds to explore and get in trouble together!

APPEARANCE: Height: 5'8" Eyes : brown Hair: black, worn short. Trimmed beard and moustache Build: compact Tattoos: tattoos on his arms, tbd

BACKGROUND: Nationality: Pakistani-British Family: Three grandparents, two parents, multiple younger siblings (tbd), loads of uncles, aunties, cousins, etc. A big family that he never quite got close to, except for that one unmarried quirky-dirky Jotie-Auntie.

BULLET POINTS:

- Zaid, eldest child in his family, first brought shame to the Shairs when he decided to eschew a degree in commerce, and went to cooking school instead - Coming out to his family was somehow less shameful than his career choice, because he still liked girls, mashallah! Zaid didn't mind the various arranged dates, but his ambition overshadowed finding a match. -He moved to Paris, then London in his early 20s to apprentice in restaurants, growing in rank and gaining respect as a dedicated, hard working line cook. He took an executive chef job at a boutique hotel in London in his late 20s - His first point of pride was opening his fine-dining restaurant Mango in 2015 in touristy Soho. Lauded in reviews for his insightful, delightful take on Pakistani cuisine, Mango became one of the trendiest eateries in London. - He refrained from the allure of 'celebrity chef' despite network and social media offers, aiming instead for that Michelin star status. He just wanted one, he was modest. - Gaining that one star should've been the biggest highlight of his life, but it was eclipsed when he met the real and only love of his life (so Zaid claims), Tej Virani. - In Zaid's mind, their romance was a firestarter, burning quick, bright, and hot. Zaid did everything to keep Tej living a comfortable life, and was proud of how he oh-so magnificently balanced work duties around Tej's whimsical needs. - After gaining his Michelin star, everything in Zaid's life seemed to bottleneck: the unexpected arrival of Tej's niece Inika, his PR agent's push for Zaid to move towards celebrity status (write that book! guest judge on Masterchef and Chopped! live-feed the cooking seminars at schools!), his own personal temptation to open a new restaurant in New York. - Zaid was convinced he could do it all. He packed up Tej and their little ward Inika and emigrated to New York. Surely he could pull this all together, with his usual efficiency and drive. - Surely, he could not. COVID happened. His relationship suffered, celebrity hopes were locked down; and with that, his new restaurant plans suffered. Chtuney eventually opened with a whimper rather than a bang, and the restaurant limped along for a year under poor leadership and red tape, as Zaid spiralled further into disarray in his personal life. Tej slipped out of his grasp and maybe it was for the better. Maybe not. - When he finally cracked from stress, he cracked hard. In a fit of spite, he stole Inika from Tej, headed to Montauk, and promised they'd never return. He and Inika would start a new life, back in London - no! In Sheffield! - and Tej would never see them again. - Tej's plaintive convincing made Zaid relinquish his mad plans, but by then it was too late. Zaid was so focused on Tej and their argument, he wasn't paying attention to the child. They lost Inika to the night waters of Montauk Beach. The child was gone, drowned, dead and Zaid was inconsolable and blamed Tej for all of it. - The funeral was for an empty casket, which was in many ways deeply symbolic for Zaid over the next few months of solitude and grief. - His New York restaurant in shambles, his relationship had long sailed. Zaid settled into trying to recoup his losses in New York. After which he intended to return to London with his tail between his legs. But instead, Zaid ended up on an entirely different island.

[atopvisenyashill]

What kind of jobs do you think asoiaf characters would have in the real world?

jon - history podcaster, famous in lefty circles, robb keeps begging him to get a real job so the stans of his haters stop review bombing robb's law practice

dany - political twitch streamer, they have beef bc jon is an anarchist and dany is an ML.

barristan - he's an econimist and a landlord and dany gets dragged constantly for being friends with him and retweeting his shitty medium articles.

grey worm - he has A Real Job as a low level agriculture engineer but he does political commentary in his free time which is why he's friends with dany & barristan.

arya - runs a coffee shop and is everyone's favorite manager because she's super chill and drives them to protests on her days off. has a burner twitter account and ratioed barristan online once.

sansa - a small business owner that has one of those cute little storefronts where four or five small businesses band together to be one shop.

robb - has a law practice doing something Important like immigration help or something. lives in a nice apartment above his practice.

theon - literally just freeloads at robb's apartment.

jeyne westerling - receptionist at robb's practice, the power dynamic IS weird but also kind of sexy. they are both clearly fucking theon as well, ned has no idea this is happening and keeps asking about grandkids even tho jeyne has an IUD.

catelyn - she clerked for a scotus judge and she is NOT modest but she IS modest about the thanksgiving she spent at RBG's house. her instagram is dedicated to promoting sansa's business because she is sooo proud.

jeyne poole - the only non nepo baby in the group who lucked out in befriending two rich girls in the art fair circuit and got a storefront with them.

loras tyrell - think mayor pete but with more personality.

margaery tyrell - the third business owner with sansa & jeyne, but she uses her mother's maiden name so no one associates her with her brother's tacky lib poitics or accueses her of being a nepo baby (she definitely is, but she takes the accussation personal)

renly baratheon - a fed from a family of feds, and the FACE of a pinkwashing campaign

cersei & tyrion - political family but for local politics like the daleys or cuomos or castro brothers (as in joaquin and julian). they fucking hate loras for primarying tywin from the center and winning but also lowkey hate each other because they both want Tywin's seat as like, Lieutenant Governor or some shit.

jaime lanniser - was supposed to be in politics but got ptsd from his time in the military and became a professional hater and freeloader until brienne talked him into getting a degree and helping people instead of just giving donations to charity for tax write offs.

brienne of tarth - i have no idea what she does but she works for a non profit and is solidly middle class as a child.

the martells - they own a local chain grocery store and they have a rivalry with arya but they keep it classy. oberyn posts thirst traps all the time and doran made him put 12 disclaimsers on every social media profile about not speaking for the store but otherwise he does what he wants. yeah man pour milk over your tiddies for charity who gives a fuck.

[kiranapassionategamer]

Real Money Ludo Game: Your Path to Earnings

Ludo, which is famous in every household, is no more just a fun game but has various other benefits. The digital revolution led to Ludo becoming more and more a possible source of revenue for many. The favorite pastime of many people became an internet game with real money staking in our days, and you should try it. This article focuses on how the typical childhood board game, Ludo, has turned into money-making venture on the internet.

Understanding Online Ludo Platforms

Online Ludo are social platforms where individuals can visit to participate in Ludo games with financial risk involved. These platforms are a perfect replica of the actual game that can be played anytime on smartphone, tablet or computer. By offering secure payment options, they ensure that people can bet real money and win prizes legally and without risks.

How to Get Started

Getting started with real money ludo game is simple. All you need to do is:

Choose a reputable platform: Look for platforms with good reviews and proper licensing.

Sign up and create an account: You’ll typically need an email address or a social media account to register.

Deposit money: Add money to your account using any of the supported methods like credit cards, e-wallets, or bank transfers.

Join a game: You can choose to play against random players or invite friends to join you.

Safety First: Ensuring Fair Play and Security

When playing Ludo for real money, security is paramount. Reputable platforms use advanced encryption to protect your financial details and personal information. Additionally, fair play is ensured through the use of certified Random Number Generators (RNG) which make sure that the dice rolls are completely random and not manipulated.

Tips for Safe Play

Always set a budget for your gaming activities.

Never share your account details with anyone.

Play on secure and well-reviewed platforms only.

Strategies to Win at Ludo

While Ludo is largely a game of luck, certain strategies can increase your chances of winning:

Think ahead: Plan your moves considering potential counters by your opponents.

Spread out your tokens: This reduces the risk of being captured and sent back home.

Wait for the right moment: Sometimes, waiting a few turns to move can be better strategically.

Leveraging Ludo for Income: Real Stories

Many players have turned their Ludo skills into a steady income stream. From small daily winnings that add up to significant amounts, to winning large tournaments that offer hefty prizes, the possibilities are endless. Success stories of players who have achieved financial gains through Ludo are both inspiring and a testament to the game’s potential.

Choosing the Right Platform: What to Look For

When selecting a Ludo platform to play for real money, consider the following:

User reviews and ratings: These can provide insights into the reliability and quality of the platform.

Customer support: Efficient customer service is crucial for resolving any issues.

Bonus and rewards programs: Some platforms offer bonuses that can increase your playing funds.

The Social Aspect of Online Ludo

One of the charms of playing Ludo online is the social element. You can connect with friends or family members who are far away, or make new friends from around the world. Many platforms also have chat features, allowing players to communicate during games, which adds a fun and interactive element to the experience.

Potential Earnings: What Can You Expect?

The amount of money you can earn playing Ludo online depends on several factors including the stakes, your skill level, and the frequency of your play. Some players play casually and earn modest amounts, while others take it more seriously and can earn substantial sums. It’s important to approach the game with realistic expectations and understand that while you can win money, you can also lose it.

Final Thoughts

Online Ludo games offer a unique blend of nostalgia, fun, and the potential for financial gain. Whether you’re looking to earn a little extra cash or just enjoy the game in a new way, playing Ludo online can be both rewarding and entertaining. Remember to play responsibly, and you may find that this classic game can be much more than just a way to pass the time.