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[prakashskinclinic]

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[fayes-fics]

A Helping Hand

2k Celebration Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Modern AU. Benedict walks in on reader whilst she’s fantasising about him...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, masturbation, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, female orgasm.

Word Count: 2.9 K (hahah "250-word drabble")

Authors Note: Eighth in my 2k follower celebration "drabbles". This is a request fill for @silverhallow from their ask HERE. This went WAYYYYYY over a drabble, sorry, I tried to reign it in, I really did. Unbetaed. Enjoy! <3

The uttering of his name is what catches his attention. 

It’s muffled and distant to his ears as he quietly closes the front door. He's just here to visit his little sister El, but he knows some of her flatmates' work shifts, so he always enters quietly, almost furtive. Tucking the key into his pocket, he shakes his head, convinced it was just an auditory ghost. 

But then he hears it again, closer now that he has moved down the corridor. It’s female but sounds edged with desperation. The hair on the back of his neck prickles, suddenly filled with concern that someone may require assistance, trapped perhaps under some heavy furniture. The fact no one knows he is even in the flat doesn't occur to him.

_____

You wish you didn't. 

Want him as much as you do.

Benedict bloody Bridgerton.

He's your best friend’s older brother, never a good idea, but damn if he isn't every single thing you desire in a man. Tall, lithe, chestnut hair, hazy eyes, large, artistic hands and a troublesome crooked grin that makes butterflies erupt every time. Every. Damn. Time. And so, almost reluctantly, he is to be the star of your masturbatory fantasy tonight, indeed most nights lately. 

Freshly showered, you peel off your robe, turn down your bedside light to a faint glow, and climb into your newly made bed, savouring the clean scent and the fluffiness of your pillows. Choosing to lay right in the middle of your double bed, your hands start to wander over your body, thoughts of him, his smiling face, filling your mind. As your fingers brush your nipples, you can't help his name escaping your lips.

“Ben…” it's breathy and feels wonderful in your mouth as your mind swirls with the image burned into your retina. It’s of him getting out of the pool last summer, water sluicing down the slim toned lines of his body as he shook out his hair like some bloody model. You almost bit through your damn lip, trying to keep in the sigh.

Your hands wander lower, swirling patterns over your belly that make you giggle in that same coquettish way you do when he cracks a joke in your presence. Part of you resents him for making you so damn giggly, to begin with; part of you wants him to make you laugh every day forever.

Then your fingers slide between your legs, and you call his name for real now as you encounter slick wetness, which is entirely his fault. 

“Benedict…” you moan, louder this time, using his full name.

Suddenly overheated as you begin to make little circles with your middle finger, you throw back the covers around your ankles and screw your eyes shut, concentrating even harder on that mental Rolodex of memories of a man you should not be fantasising about. 

“Benedict…” There is no disguising your moan now. Or your apparent addiction to saying his name. A slight clench deep in your gut every time you do, just heightening every sensation.

_____

He pushes open the door, filled with concern.

And screeches to a halt.

Oh god. It's YOU.

He didn't know this was YOUR room.

And oh fuck you are entirely naked, eyes closed, and… holy shit, you are masturbating.

His entire being is haywire. Chemicals flood his system making his head pound and his chest restrict. And his blood flow is entirely redirected southwards.

If there is one person who has always been on his ‘danger, danger’ list for as long as he can remember, it's you. But you are his little sister's best friend, which somehow seems wrong. But now. Dammit, nothing in him can remember why that is such a bad idea. 

His eyes can't help sliding down your body, knowing how wrong it is to do this. To watch, to spy, to be a voyeur without your permission. And yet…. He doesn't stop. In fact, he does the opposite—slumping back onto the door so it accidentally clicks closed. Gaze roaming, drinking in your naked body, the line of your neck, the peak of your breasts, the flare of your hips, the shape of your legs as they writhe and oh god, the sound. The sound of your moans, your feet as they drag on the sheet, and best, or perhaps worst of all, the sound of your body, the slick wetness of your arousal as you finger yourself, dripping onto your hand.

“Benedict…..”

Oh FUCK. He is in trouble now—just throbbing hot and insistently against his fly. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head back, knowing it's wrong. His logical brain trying to fight its way in. It's possible that you could be thinking about a different Benedict. Yes, that’s it, he tells himself, trying desperately to calm his arousal. It's probably that Cumberbatch fellow she is all hot and bothered about. The thought it's not about him seems to work, shaking the hypnotic state, and he turns around and grabs the door handle, trying to escape silently without you realising. 

“Bridgerton… please,” you groan, muffled as you turn your head and bite your pillow, still oblivious to his presence.

His forehead hits the door. Well, that's fucked it. Now he couldn't leave even if he wanted to. Which he really, really doesn’t. He's just going to have to style this out, and hope you will accept his presence. He's trying to decide the best approach that isn't creepy when you call out, and his instincts just take over.

“Oh god, please make me come…” 

“I will,” he growls, whipping around to face you.

And all movement in the bed ceases.

_____

Your eyes fly open, and for a split second, you blink, utterly nonplussed; your fantasy object appears to have actualised by your bedroom door.

Then he moves, and you squeal, realising that it is very much not a mirage. That is Benedict. The real Benedict.

You grab at the duvet around your ankles and scramble under it. 

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god!!!

How the fuck are you going to explain this???

Calling his name and…. Wait. 

Did he say….?

You peek out from under the covers, and he is still there. One pace closer but not invading your space.

“Wh… what are you doing here?” 

“I heard my name… I thought maybe someone needed help…” he seems sheepish.

I do! I do need help, your mind screams; I need those long fingers inside me!

You pull down the cover a little more so your face is visible. “Did you…?” You can't even bring yourself to complete the question.

“Yes, I saw, and I am so sorry,” he offers mutely, contrite. “I genuinely didn't mean to invade your privacy,” his tone sincere.

You sit up a little, your gaze falling to his jeans and holy fuck, he is aroused. Very aroused. 

Is there a chance?! He wants you back?

“Don't be,” you try for nonchalance, unable to look away from the outline in the denim, your mouth salivating.

“Do you want some help?” his ask is so soft that for a moment, you swear you misheard, but your gaze cuts to his face, and his eyes are burning intensely, pupils blown. 

“Yes, please,” you murmur back without thought. The warm smile that spreads across his face makes your heart gallop.

“Lay back down,” he says; the tone has changed. It's husky and deeper, and oh god, yes, please. “Pull down the covers.”

You do as bidden, your frame almost shaking with victory and apprehension as he takes a seat on the bed next to you.

“Touch me.” 

It's out of your lips before you can stop it. Then an entirely different, wolfish grin breaks out.

“Where?” he challenges.

“Anywhere…” you offer, desperate for his hands on your body.

He is staring at you like you are a buffet of delicious options; all you can do is lay there, breathing unevenly, awaiting his choice. When fingertips brush the inside of your wrist, you want to swoon. It's light, almost imperceptible, causing a shiver to run down your spine; goosebumps breaking out all over your limbs. You meet his fiery gaze and have to bite your lip as those warm fingers make their way slowly up the sensitive skin of your inner forearm, then onto your bicep. The tease of it is completely enthralling. When he reaches your shoulder, he changes to a drag of his palm as he maps your clavicle.

“May I kiss you?” he asks so sweetly that something warm blooms in your chest.

“Please…” your response soft.

He leans in, then his lips meet yours and something inside you melts, bends, alters. It’s chaste at first, but your hunger for him is barely slaked, so when you open your lips, and his tongue brushes yours, the atmosphere changes. He senses your need, and while you kiss ferociously, over and over, his hand slides to cup your breast. He flicks the pad of his thumb over your nipple, making you cry out into his mouth. Your own body shocking you, how much that touch is a lightning rod straight to your core.

“How do you want me to be?” he murmurs as he drops kisses across your cheek.

“What do you mean?” your voice unfocussed, pressing up into his touch, his thumb still brushing teasingly over your pebbled nipple.

“Do you like silence or talking? Light touches or a firm hand? Praise or be called a bad girl? Do you like to be treated like a precious jewel or bossed around?” the casual way he asks hot into your ear, his lips catching your earlobe, makes your mind boggle. No one has ever asked what you want; they just sort of guessed and hoped you liked it. Or had no idea how do to anything different to what they did.

“I…” you stutter; all of the above are the words blinking like a neon sign in your mind.

_____

He chuckles outwardly at your lack of an answer but inwardly is indignant at every man who has ever been with you and not thought to ask.

“How about I try some things, and you tell me if you like them?” he suggests, enjoying your enthusiastic nodding, which makes him chuckle again, feeling you shiver under him as the vibration moves from his chest into you. So very responsive.

“What about you? Your preferences?” you ask belatedly with closed eyes as his lips map the column of your neck, tasting your shower gel and the warmth there, his thumb delighting in circling your areola.

“Irrelevant,” he dismisses into your skin, then pulls away to clarify after feeling your slight pout against his forehead. “Tonight, let's focus on your pleasure. Then if you enjoy yourself, perhaps we can discuss mine another time?”

He watches as you exhale a shaky, almost disbelieving okay, your stare locked on his. Again he is almost angry on your behalf that this appears to be the first time someone has offered you something expecting nothing in return. Part of him wants to yell at you for accepting mediocrity; part of him - the competitive, possessive part - wants to make this so good you never desire another man.

He kisses a line from your neck to your breast, feeling your weighted, anticipatory stare as he runs his nose lightly over your nipple before drawing it into his mouth, suckling hard, tasting the sweetness of your skin, the puffiness under his lips. Victory crests in his veins as your hand flies into his hair, silently asking for more, pushing up into his mouth. As he suckles, he runs a hand down your body, a firmer touch over your tummy that you appear to appreciate, and he can feel your pulse and breaths quickening under him as his destination becomes apparent.

“Now you were already so occupied here when I entered…” he rumbles into your breast, his fingers slipping between your thighs, which he is pleased to note seem to fall open on instinct. He revels in your sharp inhale and moans as he ploughs his fingers into your soaked flesh without a moment's hesitation. The viscous heat making his cock throb hard in his jeans. “Wow,” he breathes, kissing over to your other breast, “you are absolutely soaking, aren't you?”

It's rhetorical, but you appear incapable of answering anyway, just squirming into his touch, almost as if you want more and less all at once. 

“Harder,” you implore mutely, and he looks up from your breast.

“What was that?” he teases, watching micro-expressions of desire and abashment flutter over your features.

“Touch me, go harder,” you puff, almost cringing, which he happens to find utterly charming.

“Now we are getting somewhere…” he smirks, the press of his fingers becoming more determined. Finding your swollen clit with unerring precision and teasing flicks over it. The engorged nub feels delightful under the pads of his fingers; he has to tamp down the urge to pinch it and make you scream—for another time, perhaps.

He definitely needs to be the best you've ever had, a burning need under his ribs.

_____

You mutter nonsense and his name as he sucks on your nipple and nudges your clit at just the right speed to make you burn hot, mouth going slack, eyes fluttering shut.

“That’s it,” he murmurs into you, something about the praising tone firing your synapses. 

“Don’t stop,” your voice wrecked, almost a sob, as you feel yourself ascending an invisible ladder. “Please, just don’t stop.”

“I won't,” he promises duskily, “in fact…..”

And that is all the warning you get before he drives two fingers inside your weeping pussy, and you almost rocket off the bed. Those long elegant fingers reaching places you never have or could, the swell of his knuckles pressing your walls open. It's even better than you ever imagined. 

You chant his name and grip his arm, loving the flex of tendons as he rhythmically rocks into you. He watches you as you spiral, his eyes sparkling in the low lamplight. Being his sole focus makes everything melt away, turning molten and sweet, like warm toffee. 

Needing to reciprocate in some way, make him as unleashed as you, your hand falls instinctively to his lap and grasps his rigid cock. He groans loudly, his fingers inside you flexing, his teeth scraping your breasts, lighting a fire over your skin. 

He senses your urgency, your need for more, to push you higher. So his motions get stronger, firmer; he snags your nipple between his teeth and tugs gently, his thumb presses harder onto your clit, circling faster as his fingers start to hook and graze your walls, knowing when he has reached a sensitive spot by the flex of your fingers around his clothed cock and your biting of your lip.

“That's it, good girl,” he murmurs, moving up to capture your lips with a searing kiss. 

His other hand, which has been taking his weight on the mattress next to you, moves to cup the back of your neck, pull you up off the pillow slightly, grasping the hair at the base of your skull. Not painfully, just enough to heighten things.

“Look at me,” he demands gruffly, and you do, panting and mouth slightly agape, his eyes hungry and expression proud as you dangle so close to a precipice. “You look breathtaking, untamed, wild; I want to fuck you so hard you scream my name,” he confesses in more of a snarl than words, diving in for another kiss.

“Please….” you beg, uncertain what for, except more.

No one has been this primal with you before, meeting a need you didn't even know you had. Your cerebral processes taking a backseat, just rooted in your body and strung out on a tide of chemicals and sensations.

A few more moves of his fingers and you are palpitating inside; the pressure breaking like a dam, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, so much he has to angle himself over you to hold you down as your muscles convulse; he has to push hard to keep his fingers inside you as you clench and release with a strength that makes him growl. You are crying out so loud the hand entwined in your hair moves and clamps over your mouth, gagging you and hushing you, leaning into your cheek with hot breaths, reminding you there are others in this flat, that you need to be quieter. Although all the while, as he says it, you can see the trace of smug hubris on his face that he is the cause. It makes you want to suck those fingers between your lips and bite him. 

As you flop, still panting, he withdraws his fingers and, just to tease, slides them into his mouth as you watch, disbelieving, clenching around nothing as his face contorts into ecstasy at your taste. Then he kisses you deeply, rolling your own flavour onto your tongue as his hands draw delicate lines over your torso.

“How was that?” he smirks as he pulls away. 

Your eyes are still closed from the kiss, suddenly awash with a drowsy sated pull deep in your being. Unfussed with words, in response, you move the hand idly twisted in his lap and grab his cock again, squeezing hard. 

“Stop that,” he groans but doesn't bat your hand away; he pushes into it, in fact. 

You just ghost a smile, eyes still closed, and lick your lips, pressing the flat of your palm against his length.

“Don't make me come in my underwear like a teenage boy,” he hums, tinged with recklessness.

“Take them off then,” your goad in a whisper, eyes popping open and meeting his, re-energised by the feral hunger you find there.

“Lock. The. Door.” he orders slowly and deadly, staring you down.

You can’t scramble for the door fast enough.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23

[dopscratch]

My Slugcat Designs

gaze upon the glory of my slugcats, i have gone full mollusk :)

feel free to use with credit! also show me if you do hahaha

fun design details/headcanons under the break

edit: find out why they're all tubemammals instead of felines here

All of them are mostly Smooth Creatures, no fur in sight. Also all of their limbs can be retracted into their bodies because slug. They each have a maximum of 3 fingers and 2 toes, though some have none at all. They are all toothless and instead possess radulae. Some have beaks and some don't, but I haven't decided which ones. The hunter is the only one with a confirmed beak. Beaks are all dark in color.

Monk is Tall because I said so. Lonk. Also I noticed its tentacles are slightly larger than survivors. Also I like the tall little sibling thing because it's funny to me.

Survivor is very average all around. Maybe slightly on the short side.

Hunter is squid. That is all (Not really). Hunter is an absolute beast and I really liked the idea of rotating colossal squid hooks instead of claws. Also squid worked really well for its long legs form :) Edit: As its rot progresses, its orangey color fades (read: parts of its skin start peeling off) and it becomes pinker like its ingame sprite until it becomes that sickly pink of Hunter Long Legs!

I thought the Spanish Dancer really invoked the tattered ribbons of the explosion spears. Also I know it's an aquatic slug and Artificer is terrible in water but I think the flailing to swim around really fits it haha. Also its a skunk because of the whole chemical weapon theme.

Gourmand is an absolute unit. It is very round. I don't have much else to say about it.

I love axolotls but they're overrated, so instead of having the gills of everyone's favorite neotenic Mexican salamander, Rivulet is an octopus. It can use the pink tentacles around its face to hide its big silly eyes if its scared. It can also stretch them out to look bigger. the space in between is webbed, just like in an octopus, though the webbing is not always visible when the tentacles are folded back or in a relaxed position. It has suckers on the back edges and can twist the tentacles around if it wants to use them to grab or hold something near its face. Its arms and legs can extend to great lengths but they cannot support Rivulet on land very well so they usually stay short then (or will only push it up a short height). A siphon on its underside lets it move faster underwater and it may spray water with it playfully.

Spearmaster is also very long like Monk. The spears are pulled from underneath the shell rather than straight out of the tail.

Saint is a sea sheep, complete with the silly closely placed eyes. Its "tongue" is just a tentacle. Also it's short. And a raccoon because I just felt like it fits.

Nightcat is a scaly-foot gastropod because I said so. I think that since it's a pretty mysterious creature it can get a pretty mysterious feature, though with a generally basic silhouette.

Enot/Inv/???/whatever you wanna call it is just cuttlefish. A wild, crazy creature whose colors, shape, number of arms, and texture are never consistent. It is dense and will not float well. Usually its tentacles and limbs have a bit of a curl to the ends.

I think a flamboyant cuttlefish was perfect for its design, and I chose a yellow mongoose because a) silly creature and b) it's not actually a mustelid so it kinda fits how incredibly weird this guy is.

and that is all, hope you enjoy my slugcats.

[lesb0]

The truth about children is that they are not only tiny but extremely physically and psychologically sensitive before puberty. I've seen a child scream in pain after touching a drop of tea tree olive oil that I've just used all over my hair and hands, because their skin has formed no natural barrier or oils yet. It's like they've all just had full body chemical peels because skin resistance is hormonal. Theyre loud and like annoying songs because they don't fully process audio. They can't hold distressful ideas or two concepts at once so they drop information and giggle about it. complicated ideas and emotions are a teenaged hormonal brain development. Kids cannot consume "poison" foods that we enjoy like hot peppers, onions, leafy greens, and bitter dark chocolate because of an evolutionary benefit. toxins that we can't taste are fully disgusting to them.

We forget about all of this because our brains weren't functioning in a way that we could even retain a sense of perspective. I vaguely remember being prone to burns because I loved cooking, but now I can touch hot butter and need my bathwater scalding. I used to cry when brushing my hair and hated black coffee. Once I screamed because one tiny bite of raw onion burned my sinuses. Now I love those things.

Children are absolutely in no way "adults but small" they are literally barely functional and you NEED to be hyper-delicate and gentle with them or else I will attack you

[masonshmason]

Thoughts on the latest Helluva Boss episode as a 35+ gremlin

I wanted to talk about something that people who are under 30 may not realize about Fizz's struggles this episode. While Fizz's experiences as a celebrity are sadly very common across all famous people, there's another level of nuance that I feel is unique to his age bracket.

(Essay under the cut)

If Fizz and Blitz are close in age, and Blitz is 30-35, then Fizz is about the same age. I'm not gonna lie. I'm leaning towards 40 now but being in my 30s is a wild time. It's a great time, don't get me wrong. I've been the happiest I've been in my entire life. But here's the thing about your 30s: you can tell when your body is slumping into middle age. And unlike Goetia and other higher demons, imps are implied to be able to age at a rate very similar to humans. Blitz mentions "when I get old and die" at the end of S1E8, so it's very likely that imps are not near immortal powerful beings like other demons.

When you start feeling your age, It's a little harder to get out of bed, aches and pains take a little longer to recover from, your metabolism starts to slow, your skin starts to lose elasticity, and your muscle tone starts to soften. There's nothing inherently wrong with this. This is how life is. What is wrong though, is society's view of you changes. You are considered one foot in the grave, which is ridiculous because the average lifespan is late 70s to early 80s. The emphasis changes from "you have your whole life ahead of you" to "wow you're already half dead, shouldn't you go away and hide or do something about it? Here's a cream, here's a chemical peel, now stop looking like an old person". This is especially hard on celebrities, ESPECIALLY female celebrities.

But it's also difficult on Fizz.

Fizz is terrified of being replaced now that he's gotten older. He flat out says to Ozzie that this is his "last chance". He wakes up with a very clear blemish over his eye--now this could definitely be his scars, but considering it wasn't there during his morning routine last episode, we can assume it's a recent development. Mammon puts him down by calling him fat, which is not only hypocrisy but Mammon knows full damn well that imps grow old, and he criticizes Fizz for something that is outside of his control and part of the natural aging process, mirroring how Hollywood and the fashion industry use up people in their twenties and drop them if they allow the natural aging process to continue instead of investing a ton of money into skincare and plastic surgery.

But on the bright side of all of this is the fact that Asmodeus does not care that Fizz is capable of growing older. This powerful, immortal being who has been around since Hell started and has nothing but time loves a mortal creature so dearly that he does not fucking care that the time they have together is so short, just that they spend that time together. He doesn't care about the blemishes, or the scars, or Fizz's broken horns. He cares about what makes Fizz the person that he is instead of the body that he has.

And I think that's beautiful.

[old-skyguy]

TMA fears as ASMR concepts

Disclaimer: I wrote this months ago in my notes app. This is not proofread in the *slightest*. So. It's gonna be shit. Lol. Enjoy, ig.

Also not canon compliant whatsoever so don't complain about that because I know.

-Michael Distortion: (POV: you're in the spiral) it's just 15 minutes of Michael whispering the same "baby sharchivist dododododo" tune and then him getting killed by Helen in the last minute.

-Nikola Orsinov does your skincare routine but it's just a direct parody of the Victor Van Dort does your Nails video where instead of the bts poster, the "blanket" is a black and white circus poster (see: Danny Stoker) that crumbles to ash when he puts it on. Also at the end she tries to do a "chemical peel" she found on "the internets". Michael comes in at the end and PRESIDENTIAL ALERT THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINNGGG.

"Why are you screaming? that's very rude, you know. Especially after I talked to your BOSS for you. And that was NOT an enjoyable experience. He's such a tool >:(("

"Spill the tea, archivist" "oh sorry, did you want some? Sorry ...too bad. You can't have this :33" "WHERE ARE MY MANNERS??" *sticks pinky finger out* "there! Much better"

-Jane Prentiss' GRWM but she doesn't have any other clothes so it's just "time for the fit check!!" *Camera cuts to her dress for one (1) second* then her makeup is just dirt, dirt, and "the worms love you."

-Simon Fairchild and Michael Crew giggle with each other while huddled together and whispering/gossiping and asking "should we do it, should we do it?" "Yeah yeah let's be bad" while shushing each other while occasionally interacting with the listener for 5 minutes and then the rest of the video is just them torturing them via the ocean (them holding you underwater for 2 minutes with muffled gurgling bubble noises accompanied by underwater ocean sounds and silent panicking), throwing you into the sky at extreme velocity (sounds of air blasting your eardrums for a solid 3 minutes before an airplane hits you full force and you fall back into the ocean...which is another whole minute of falling and panicking.), and then the rest of the video is just them laughing while basically using your limp, dazed body as a kite.

-Elias Bouchard beats you with a metal pipe ASMR.

-POV: Gerard Keay breaks into your house at 2:27 AM and ransacks it looking for a LEITNER "WHERE TF IS I- oh. You're awake..Hi." before leaving through the window but he can't make himself fit through so it's just a full minute of him struggling and awkwardly laughing while apologizing over and over. All this time, he's wearing so much eyeliner, he looks like Jeff the Killer. You point this out and he just goes "Oh! Thank you! :D"

-"Buried Alive ASMR: You Get Buried Alive. You are getting buried alive. Someone is burying you. Alive. It is peaceful." (Unnecessarily long, redundant title for what's just screaming that gets slowly muffled as the video goes on and more dirt is piled on top of you before you start to sound content and just. Go to sleep. At that point. Snoring.)

-The Vase eats your boyfriend in the other room. It's just sounds of porcelain and snoring and fleshy eating sounds with ear eating but it slowly progresses to sounds that make less and less sense until it's just the skeleton sound effects from Minecraft.

-POV spiders crawl all over you. They have covered your door in spiderwebs. You fall asleep crying but wake up to being choked to death via spiders crawling inside you and blocking your windpipe.

-Jared Hopworth, the Boneturner, turns your bones with sounds of squishy flesh moving around in the background. At the end, you get eaten by The Monster Pig™ and meat (lol) the body of the missing clown.

-You get sacrificed to The Desolation. Sounds of distant screaming is heard in the right ear while sounds of maniacal/pained laughter is heard in the left. Fire crackles throughout the woods.

-You are getting chased by something. You get stalked with a lot of tension at the beginning; sticks cracking, creepy giggling, devious sounds all around. Your breathing is uneasy, but then the sounds stop and you breathe a sigh of relief and go back to stoking your campfire. Something growls and finally says "evening" and starts counting down. From 5. You bolt away from your campsite downhill for 2 minutes breathing heavily and fast before you trip on a stick and tumble down the mountain getting hit by trees and sent over rocks. You're about to pass out, but then you hear sniffing and growling in your direction and you get back up with an "o shit" and hide in a tree. When the monster sniffs out your hiding spot, it can't reach you. The rest of the video is slightly muffled Gangnam Style.

-POV: Peter Lukas kidnaps you, throws you in a sack, and you are put on a ship to a deserted island. This part is just sounds of boards creaking and boat rocking sounds while you fall asleep to the sounds of Peter's VERY heavy snoring. You're both startled awake by distant "land ho!" And a very gruff Peter's voice talking to himself going "I'm up I'm up ugh". Rustling of the bag is heard while he picks you up and fumbles around with you. You're getting passed around and jostled a bunch. At one point he burns his toast. Sounds of intense crunching can be heard from this along with him saying "elgh" as if disgusted. Finally, he brings you to the deck and throws you overboard onto a deserted island (your bones break and you scream "MY LEGS") before you can hear him far away saying "alright, set sail, we're done here." You manage to get out of the bag (you are wincing, the drop heavily contorted your body) and the sun shines at you while birds squack above and the coast crashes onto the shore. You slowly lose your mind.

-POV you're in the War™ and get shot in the arm and fall into a cave with one of your comerades. You guys shakily and awkwardly attempt to make small talk as you both bleed out on top of several hundreds of other corpses. The Piper is heard in the distance getting louder. When he finally gets to you after taking your friend, you fall into a bottomless pit while he's up there yelling "OH FUCKING COME ONNNN." When you get out on the other side after a minute of silence with faint sounds of "I will remember you" plays quietly through the silence. When you get out, Mike and Simon are snickering before you cough up blood when they start bursting out in laughter being like "I'm sorry I'm SO sorry really but it's JUST. SO FUNNY."

-POV: Robert Montauk is preparing to kill you, sharpening his tools and humming and whatnot before Julia comes in and asks what her dad's doing. While he's distracted, you escape the shitily tied knots and run through pitch dark while he chases you with an axe. "COME BACK. COME BACCKKK. YOU FUCKER I NEED YOU. FUCKER." You run into a church. Manuela Dominguez tries to apprehend you. It doesn't work. "Where the hell's Fairchild when you need him?"

Robert bursts through the church and gets pissed at you for making him scream curse words that his daughter could hear. Throws the axe at you. He misses. Now you have a weapon. You charge at him but fall through another pitch black hole where none other than yours truly are on the other side of it laughing their ASSES off just DYING. "OK. OK Whooooo. We SWEAR that was the last of it hahaha" "haha yeah just some guys bonding over a good laugh, you understand."

-The End. Just. An end screen.

You're dropped into Season one Jon's office and they (annoyed) take your statement. Typing sounds are heard while you frantically go "then the old guy..a-nd then the other old guy then the 2 old men and. And. Worm lady. Skin. Chemical peel." As they mumble "uh huh, yeah. Heh, heard that one before. No go on, go on." When statement ends, you leave but stay at the door to eavesdrop while they skepticize like "this man needs some antispychotics and he needs them NOW. Ugh. My job is utter buffoonery. MAHTIN."

You turn to walk away but get ambushed by Elias Bouchard. The last sound of the video is just a metal pipe hitting you over the head.

[manybcdthings]

astra's apartment

felix and astra, flashback @rviner

Felix's usual plug had vanished, gone without a word for weeks, leaving him chasing shadows. Every other contact he tried had nothing that hit hard enough. It'd been days now, and the itch was getting under his skin. He'd been pacing around his apartment, stomach knotted, on the verge of going full cold turkey when he heard whispers about a spot down a cramped alley. One with a worn-out mural of a tree painted on the side. Some bullshit about the "Tree of Life," but he didn't give a fuck about symbolism. He needed to find Astra, whoever that was.

The place was easy to spot once you knew where to look. Tucked between two sagging buildings, the paint peeling like dead skin. He pushed through the creaky door and was met by a flood of faces. The apartment had no rhyme nor reason to it's design, the old, dim lighting, cushions littering the floor, the air thick with the haze of spice. The others in the room looked comfortable, like they'd been there for hours or days, sprawled across a beaten-up couch or sinking into scatter cushions. They all seemed in no rush. Like they lived there but some would leave, some would return with new people. A slowly evolving space. Soft music hummed from some corner, and Felix had to settle for the lazy pass of a joint between strangers.

"When's Astra getting here?" he eventually asked, throat tight with impatience after what seemed like hours. Depends, she might not show tonight. came the easy reply.

On one side, Felix now knew to look for a she but also knew she was unreliable as hell. He sank deeper into the cushion, frustration twisting inside him like a knot he couldn't untangle. He needed a hit, but the place felt like a slow-motion dream. Every muscle in his body screamed for relief. He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles whitened, a quiet tremor betraying how close he was to snapping. If it wasn't for this gnawing desperation, he'd have already left.

Then, a burst of light laughter echoed from beyond the front door. Light, airy, soft. Melodic. Felix looked up as a head of dark curls floated into the room. She moved like a gentle breeze, dressed in something flowing and sheer, the fabric clinging in just the right places to a frame so small he had to blink. It was like the room moved with her, suddenly brighter. Softer. 'This guy wants some pills, Astra.'

With that, she turned to Felix, and for a second, everything in him stalled. His frustration, his craving, all of it paused, suspended as her eyes locked onto his. She looked at him like she saw something. He couldn't tell if he needed to leave or sink into the cushion forever. "Or whatever you have." he added quickly, suddenly not wanting to be a nuisance. Suddenly, Felix had all the patience in the world. His voice came out a little softer than intended, like he'd forgotten how to speak in the few seconds since she appeared.

Without realizing it, he rose to his feet, the sudden movement surprising him as much as anyone else. "But yeah, pills, usually." he muttered, feeling his pulse hammer in his throat. But it wasn't from his desperate need for a chemical high. It was the way she was looking at him, and the way he was looking at her. "I got your name from Sal." just in case she was staring at him from distrust, but he didn't think so. He had no idea what that look was but it made the room feel smaller, quieter, causing Felix to clear his throat.

[danielfuckingricciardo]

All I Want For Christmas Is You - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Pairing - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader (University AU)

Word Count - probably around 3k ish?

Content Warnings - swearing, smutty references, but just fluff

Synopsis - You and Daniel had been dancing around one another all year, and so at the Christmas party hosted by your lecturers, he finally decides to make a move via your favourite obscure Christmas song.

Author’s Note - I don’t write a lot of AU fics, except for the massive one that will be coming your way in the new year!! Keep your eyes peeled for that!! But this goes out to all my fellow former emo kids. Congrats, you made it, though like me you probably still have some MCR in your Spotify playlists. Anyways, enjoy this one, and I’m sorry it wasn’t actually posted on the day I said I would post it! I am battling against the seasonal plague (I have a sore throat) and so I got an early night last night instead of staying awake to write till 2am lol 😂

Inspired by the My Chemical Romance cover of Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas is You

You had only begrudgingly agreed to attend the Christmas party your lecturers had arranged to celebrate the festive season. All of your favourite outfits were stashed away in your laundry bag ready to take home, allowing you to take advantage of your parents’ washing and drying facilities. After all, the laundry room was always full, and it never really left your clothes smelling right, and you had to pay £7.50 for the privilege.

But your friend Yasmine had dragged you out shopping as she searched for an outfit for the party, and so when you spotted that one outfit in the window, you thought ‘fuck it’ and drained your bank account to almost empty. It wouldn’t be until January when your next student loan dropped, but you wouldn’t exactly be spending much while stuck back at home.

Besides, the party would be your last chance to see Daniel before you all left, travelling across the country, and in his case, across the world to spend Christmas with your families.

It was your second year of university, and the small group of students who hadn’t dropped out during first year were all eager to celebrate and say goodbye, especially to your lecturers who were all pretty chill and had become like friends themselves throughout the past semester.

The group chat had been filled with people sharing their eager anticipation for tonight, letting you know who would be bringing what drinks, who would be hosting pre’s and afters at their flat, and all manner of other things.

George had been the one to organise most things, after all, he was the most eager to say goodbye, having to return home to his stuffy home in the country where the only company would be cows and the odd sheep for the Christmas season. He wanted the first half of the year to go out with a bang, and so, you found yourself pressing the buzzer to the gate to be allowed into the boys’ flat to get a little drunk, before going out to get even more drunk, and then returning again to get progressively drunker and to inevitably end up passing out on the sofa again.

“Who goes there?” The voice on the intercom says, and you roll your eyes.

“George, for fucks sake, do we have to answer three riddles before you’ll let us in? It’s fucking freezing out here.” Yasmine says, and you chuckle, pulling your jacket tighter around your body to protect yourself from the cold winter air.

“Not this time, I’ve had too many to think of a riddle, never mind three. I’ll buzz you in, Daniel’ll be down to let you in.” George says, and the gate beeps, slowly swinging open.

You walk over to block B, your heels clicking on the ground as you walk past a group of students sharing a spliff.

“Alright?” Daniel says, his head peeking around the door.

“I’m fucking freezing and these shoes are hurting already.” Yasmine says, pushing past Daniel into the warm corridor of their building.

“I’d lend you mine, but I think they’d be too big for you. But hey, you know what they say about men with big feet?” Daniel says, a cocky smile on his lips as you enter the building.

“Big socks?” You respond quickly, as he guides you down the corridor towards their flat.

“You betcha.” He says, and he opens the door, which was already leaking sounds of voices and some pop song you didn’t recognise.

The boys all cheer as you enter the kitchen, setting down the bottle of vodka you had been carrying onto the counter.

“Ah, you legend!” George exclaims, “you want a drink?”

“Sure!” You respond, and George pours a large measure of cheap vodka into a plastic cup, topping it off with some coke.

“I’m taking my shoes off, they hurt like a bitch, no one look at my feet!” Yasmine yells, steadying herself on your shoulder as she pops off both shoes.

“Be careful, Lando has a foot fetish.” Daniel says, and the boys erupt into laughter.

“I do not! Besides, I’ve seen your feet enough to put me off them even if I did.” Lando says, poking Daniel in the chest.

“So you admit, you did have a foot fetish.” Daniel says, his head tilted slightly as Lando turns a dark shade of red.

“No matter what I say, I’m not gonna look good after this, am I?” Lando says, turning to you with a chuckle.

“No, he’s backed you into a corner there, Lan.” You say, rolling your eyes at Daniel as you pat Lando on the shoulder to put him at ease.

You throw yourself down on the sofa next to Charles, whose head was buried in some textbook you vaguely recognise.

“The grind never stops, eh Charles?” You ask him, and he looks over at you.

“It’s interesting! I was just getting to the end of this chapter before I joined in with whatever those idiots are doing.” Charles says, his eyes returning to the page and scanning quickly downwards.

“I’ll go and pour you a drink, you’re going to need it if the music playing in here gets any worse.” You say, standing up and wandering over to the counter.

The rest of the guys were already several drinks in, and George was trying to convince Alex to try the local IPA he was drinking by describing the taste in excessive detail. Alex was smiling and nodding along, but clearly checked out of the conversation. George had simply had too many drinks already to notice.

The boys flat consisted of George, Daniel, Lando, Alex, Charles and Max. The six of them had decided to live together following the first year after all hating their original housemates. They had asked you and Yasmine to join too, but you decided against it, instead opting for a small two bedroom flat a few streets away, ‘the boring flat’ the boys had dubbed it. You were sure they would have driven you crazy, just spending time with them during lectures was enough, and you didn’t fancy having to put up with their antics 24/7.

You had however ended up sleeping on their sofa more than once as the club you often frequented was right next door, and the boys were always far too drunk to walk you home. But you found that Daniel was always sober enough to pass you a blanket each and every time. The blanket that smelled just like him, and your drunk self would often wrap up within it and pretend he was right beside you.

It was so embarrassing, but you had a big crush on Daniel. You had from the first day you met him, when he showed up in his ripped black skinny jeans and Bring Me The Horizon t-shirt, with chipped black polish on his habitually-chewed fingernails. He liked all the same bands as you, he played guitar, and he had a wicked sense of humour. To you, he ticked all the boxes, he was perfect. You just wished that he felt the same way about you.

Daniel wasn’t one to shy away from flirtation, and received a lot of attention from the other people on your course, and he always managed to pull someone whenever you went out. You minded, of course you did, but what could you say? You’d only make a fool of yourself. So you would just glance at him every so often, his tongue lodged down some other person’s throat in the club, and wish he’d see you that way. You wished he wanted to kiss you like that too.

What you didn’t see, was that whenever you turned away, he would look at you too. Knowing that whoever he may or may not go home with that night wouldn’t be you. But you weren’t interested in him, right? You were just a friend, a friend with their life together who was so much better than he was in every respect. You’d never waste your time with someone like him.

“Lando’s playlists are shit, aren’t they?” Daniel says as he slides in next to you at the counter.

“You know I prefer something a little heavier, but you know how it was when we dragged everyone to emo night… They did nothing but complain and then went for a kebab at 2am.” You say as you empty the remainder of the cheap vodka into Charles’ cup.

“True, I started playing Slipknot earlier and they threatened to go on cleaning strike unless I turned it off. And no song is worth being forced to clean Max’s jizz off the shower screen without moral support.” Daniel says, and you burst into laughter.

“And you wonder why I didn’t want to live with you guys.” You say, rolling your eyes as you top up Charles’ cup with sprite.

“Did someone say my name?” Max says as he enters the kitchen, a vodka red bull in hand.

“No, no, must have been the song.” Daniel says, firing a quick wink in your direction before taking a sip of his own drink.

“Yo, Charles, time to get drinking, you’re lagging behind!” You say, leaning over the back of the sofa to pass Charles the cup.

Charles sets his book down beside him and takes a sip, his mouth twisting as the drink which was mostly vodka hits his palette.

“Did you actually put any mixer in there? Fuck.” Charles says, his face still slightly twisted.

“It’s the (y/n) special, 3 parts vodka to one part sprite. You need to catch up with the rest of us.” You say, and Daniel laughs beside you.

“We are going to a Christmas party with our lecturers in ten minutes, you know? I don’t think we want to be pissed before we get there, might not be the best impression, eh?” Charles says.

“I think it might be too late for that.” Daniel says, gesturing over and Alex and George who were already considerably drunk.

“Well, we’d better get going anyway. Yasmine, get your shoes back on. Alex, Lando, scrape up what’s left of George from the sofa. Charles, down that drink. Max and Daniel, let’s go!” You say, grabbing your bag from the counter and holding the kitchen door open.

“Yes, ma’am.” Daniel says, saluting you mockingly as he squeezes by, his hand brushing yours for a split second as he does.

You managed to herd the boys into the university building and to the large room your lecturers had booked to host the Christmas party.

You were all offered a glass of Prosecco on arrival, which you took graciously and nursed as you talked to your lecturers about the previous semester.

“Next semester we’ll be doing the pairs presentation. We wanted to make it interesting, so we’re assigning the pairings.” Sebastian, the leader of the course says, and you nod your head.

“Any hints on who I’m partnered with? I’m not all that keen on surprises.” You say, tilting your head inquisitively.

“I’m not allowed to say names at this point, but if you list off some names I may nod if you say the correct one.” He says, and you rack your brain to try and guess who you might be paired with.

“Yasmine?” You say, and Sebastian remains still.

“Charles?” He doesn’t move.

“Max?” Sebastian takes a sip from his glass of red wine.

“Alex?” Yet again, no movement.

“Daniel?” You finally say, and Sebastian tilts his head up and down ever so slightly.

“Really? Why him?” You say, and Sebastian places his finger to his lips, shaking his head at you slightly.

“I thought you’d be stoked to be paired with someone of my level of genius.” Daniel says, appearing from behind you with two glasses in his hands.

“Eavesdropping, are we?” You say, waggling your finger at Daniel as you would a naughty child.

“Nope. I just have keen ears.” He says, a cheeky grin on his face.

“I’ll leave you two be. You’ll have a lot of work to be doing together after Christmas.” Sebastian says, before walking away to talk to some of the other students.

“Okay, so, you, me, a weed brownie, a PowerPoint presentation, and a perfectly curated playlist made by yours truly. Doesn’t that sound like the all-night library session from heaven?” Daniel says, and you roll your eyes at him.

“You see, this is why I’d rather be paired with Yasmine or Charles. They’d take the assignment seriously!” You say, downing the rest of the sparkling wine in your glass.

“Hey, doing things the Daniel way hasn’t failed me yet.” He says, gesturing openly with his hands.

“Yet being the operative word.” You fire back.

“Oh, you know you love me really, you big nerd.” He says, and how desperately you want to exclaim ‘yes! Yes I do love you! I want to kiss you and do lots of kinky sex things with you!’ But instead you roll your eyes again.

“Here, I have a spare, you want?” Daniel says, gesturing to you with the full glass of Prosecco in his left hand.

“Sure. God knows next semester I’m gonna need it.” You say as you take the glass and swallow half of the alcoholic beverage.

“Look, DJ Lando has taken control of the playlists here too. I think he’s actually playing his own stuff now.” Daniel says, pointing to where Lando and George are stood beside the speaker in the corner of the room.

“If he keeps up with this DJ shit then Yasmine might actually jump his bones later.” You say in Daniel’s ear and he looks at you with a shocked expression.

“Lando? Really?” He says rather too loudly, and you shush him.

“She loves a DJ. Now, don’t tell anyone I told you this, but apparently she had a lot of fun with a DJ when she was out in Thailand on her gap year. He still replies to every one of her Instagram stories.” You say, and Daniel laughs.

“Really? I didn’t have her down as the gap-year-romance type.”

“Well, she wasn’t, she just loves a guy with a big deck.” You say, lifting your glass to cover your laughter at your own stupid joke.

“What about you? I’m sure Charles would be down if you just asked him, y’know?” Daniel says, and you look at him, perplexed.

“Me and Charles? Please! What the fuck gave you that idea?” You say, your eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t know, I suppose the way you always gravitate towards him whenever you visit.” Daniel says, suddenly seeming rather awkward.

“Usually it’s to ask him about what I missed when I snooze my alarm too many times before a 9am lecture.” You laugh, “no, but Charles is nice, he’s just not my type.”

“Oh really? So what is your type?” Daniel asks, and you tilt your head to appear deep in thought.

“Hmm.. I like a guy with a good sense of humour. Aesthetically, I like the tall, dark and handsome types, y’know? Also goth guys, goth guys are really hot. And they’re extra hot if they play guitar.” You say, and Daniel raises his eyebrow.

You feel your cheeks begin to heat up as Daniel leans in to say something in your ear, but he’s interrupted as Lando begins to play a Christmas song, and Alex and George steal him away to dance.

You take a seat on the edge of a table and watch on as everyone dances on the makeshift dance floor, swaying and singing along to the lyrics of that Ariana Grande Christmas song you couldn’t remember the title of.

Daniel pushes his way through the crowd as the song comes to the end and stands in front of you, blocking your view to the rest of the room.

“I put in a request with DJ Lando, this one’s for you. Dance with me?” Daniel says, offering you his hand for you to take.

“You know I don’t really do Christmas songs.” You say, shaking your head at him.

“Oh, I know you like this one.” He says, and you hear that familiar voice begin to play over the speaker system, and gasp. He remembered? But how would he remember such a trivial thing as that from last year?

“Okay, I’ll dance with you.” You say, taking his hand and walking to the dance floor, where many of your friends were confused at the song that was playing. It was familiar, sure, but they hadn’t heard this version before.

You hear the drum beat kick in and immediately start to jump as the guitar plays. Daniel takes your hands in his and spins you around, and the confused people that surrounded you give in to the beat. Eventually, the two of you had formed a mosh pit on the dance floor, and even Lando was pumping his fist aggressively beside the speaker as he stared at his phone.

“How did you remember I liked this version?” You shout over the music at Daniel.

“You told me you liked it, last year, when I asked what song you were listening to.” Daniel says.

“Yeah, I remember, but how do you?” You say.

“I guess I wanted to. I remember everything about you, (y/n).” He says, and you feel yourself blushing as he takes a step closer to you.

“That’s really sweet Daniel.” You say.

“I can be sweet, sometimes, when I want to be, especially for someone I-“ Daniel stops talking as the song transitions into a slow 80s song. You recognise the melody as True by Spandau Ballet, a song more commonly played at a wedding disco than a college party.

Lando looks over at Daniel, giving him a thumbs up with a smug grin on his face.

“Oh I’m going to kill him.” Daniel says, shaking his head.

“Go on, finish your sentence.” You say, looking up at Daniel as you sway your body to the music.

“I can be sweet, for someone I love.” Daniel says, and without thinking, you pull him in closer, crashing your lips to his.

“And that, ladies and gentleman, is why I am the greatest DJ who ever lived.” Lando says, and both you and Daniel stick out your middle fingers at him almost simultaneously.

By midnight, you were all kicked out of your university building, with plans to return to the boys’ flat to continue the party with a few more drinks and more of Lando’s DJing talents.

“What even was that version of the song? I’ve literally never heard it before.” Alex says.

“It’s a cover, from a while back now. All I Want For Christmas is You by My Chemical Romance. It’s more to my taste than the original.” You say as you walk briskly beside him, trying to keep warm in the cold night air.

“Oh, it’s very you. But how did Daniel know to play it?” Charles interjects.

“Because he’s embarrassingly in love with her, and remembered she liked it after she told him last year. Get with it, Charles.” George yells, his verbal filter completely gone as a result of his drunken state, and Daniel blushes.

“He’s not the only one embarrassingly in love, (y/n) has wanted to lick whipped cream off of his surprisingly toned body since day one.” A very drunk Yasmine chuckles as she wobbles into Lando on the pavement.

“It was a dream I had one night, don’t read too much into that.” You say, and Daniel looks at you with his eyebrow raised.

“We don’t have any cream, but you’re welcome to the caramel sauce and sprinkles in my cupboard.” Max says, and you jab him in the back.

“I feel like I’m being ganged up on here. Just wait till you guys hear about Yasmine’s thing she has about DJs.” You say, and it’s Yasmine’s turn to blush.

“(Y/n)!” She exclaims, running up to you in her heels to slap you on the shoulder playfully.

“Hey, you might be in there Lando, unless she only likes good DJs.” Alex says, and you chuckle as Lando shouts an ‘oi!’ from the back of your walking party.

You reach the gate of the boys’ building and stop as Daniel pulls out his keycard.

“Oh, we’re going to go to the club next door, do you wanna join? Or are you two going to be occupied with Max’s caramel sauce?” George asks, and you scoff.

“Do you wanna go out? I don’t feel much like clubbing right now, my ears are ringing after George’s rendition of Sweet Caroline.” Daniel asks.

“I’ll stay here with Daniel, you guys have fun though!” You shout as they begin to walk away, sending a herd of whoops, cheers and wolf whistles in your direction.

You shake your head at them as your enter the courtyard and Daniel opens the door to his flat for you to step into.

It was surprisingly quiet without the other guys in it, and the situation you found yourself in suddenly felt all too real.

“Would you like to join me in my room?” Daniel asks, and your eyes go wide, “I’m not trying to sleep with you, I’m not that sleazy, it’s just, the radiator in the lounge is broken so it’s warmer in my room.”

“Sounds good. I don’t think I’ve seen your room before, and I like being nosy.” You chuckle as you follow him to the door marked with a number 3.

He pushes the door open and you follow him inside, noticing the guitar resting against the desk, a half-dead succulent beside his laptop, and an arrangement of photos stuck on the wall.

“Did you take all these?” You ask, studying the photos one by one.

“Yeah, it’s a little hobby of mine. I’m not very good, but I like to capture important moments so I can look back on ‘em later.” He says, standing beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“It looks nice. Australia, I mean. I’d love to visit some day.” You say, turning to him.

“You could come and visit me in the summer, I’m sure my mum wouldn’t mind making up the spare room, or you could share mine?” He says, letting out an awkward chuckle.

“You know, for someone who I regularly see making out with strangers in the club, you’re quite shy.”

“You’re not just a stranger in a club, (y/n).” Daniel says, reaching out to caress your cheek gently with his fingers.

“All this time I thought you’d never give me a second glance, and yet, here we are.” You say, stepping back to take a seat on the edge of Daniel’s bed.

“Are you kidding me? You’re gorgeous, (y/n), you’re kind, you make me laugh, and you have a killer taste in music. And, as it turns out, excellent taste in guys too.” Daniel says, sitting down beside you.

“So you really do like me? You’re not just having a laugh?” You ask, and Daniel offers you a small smile.

“Why would I be joking? I really like you (y/n), and I’d like it if you stayed with me tonight.” Daniel says, and you place your hand gently on his thigh.

“I’d love to, Daniel.” You say, and he presses a small kiss on your temple.

“This is going to make that presentation much easier to organise next semester.” Daniel says, and you laugh.

The truth is, all you really wanted for Christmas was Daniel, and this year, your Christmas wish had been very much fulfilled.

[prakashskinclinic]

 Chemical Peels- Prakash Skin Clinic

We can give you baby smooth skin with full-body chemical peels. Chemical peels are used to treat wrinkles, discolored skin and scars-usually on the face.

READ MORE...Best Dermatologist in Ranchi Prakash

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

It’s so hard to pick from your WIP list!!! Can I hear more about nightmares, diamonds, and bdhb-fairground date? (And bdhb-smut if you wanna 😂)

It seems greedy to ask about FOUR options for the WIP game (that is more than a third of the options on offer!) but seeing as @probadbatch also asked about the Beach Days and Hair Braiding series, I shall indulge you :P

Nightmares is your own request anyway, so you know the premise! It's based off a throwaway line in "Forget I asked", and will eventually result in Hunter being there when Crosshair wakes from his nightmares, even if their own relationship is still rocky at the time. But you can't have Crosshair being comforted by Hunter without contrasting it with the time he has spent alone...

Crosshair woke with a flinch, arms instinctively coming up to shield his head. Protect his eyes. His enhancement made him useful, an asset. It was the only thing keeping him from decommissioning. No. Wait. This wasn't Kamino. Panting to full wakefulness as tremors of adrenaline shot through his limbs, Crosshair peeled himself up from the hard cot and steadied himself with a palm on the wall. The sleek rasp of durasteel scraped under his clawed fingers. Breathing through his mouth, he tasted the chemical tang of disinfectant in the recycled air. If he listened, he could hear the erratic night-cycle breathing of other prisoners in cells out of view of his own. Blinking away the last vestiges of the nightmare, his vision cleared enough to focus on the barred gate that sealed him in. He let his gaze track over the scuffs and pits he knew by heart, those small details intimately familiar to him. He’d had nothing to do all this time except stare at the wall, trying to stay sane even as despair eroded his will to do so.

TechPhee Diamonds is inspired by a conversation/challenge to find a way to feature my own Specialist Subject in a fanfic somehow! So what better way than to have Tech and Phee debating the merits of natural vs synthetic diamonds?

Of course Tech is arguing that chemically, physically, optically, a synthetic diamond is identical to its naturally occurring counterpart. Phee just doesn't see the romance in it - not compared to a natural treasure of the earth, grown millions of years ago under the ground, then brought to the surface in a volcanic eruption and weathered from it's host rock for some lucky person to find.

In the end, she promises that if he gets her a big enough diamond, she won't even ask where it came from :P

Beach Days series below the cut! (Cloneshipping here, don't like? Don't click!)

I mean firstly credit also goes to my co-creator @ninjadeathblade because you wouldn't have had this series at all without them!

I was asked about the BDHB series last time this game went round so you can find a bit more info Here :)

As for my current WIPs? We're half way through Fairground Date; the rest of the planned chapters are 5: Drop Tower, 6: Splashdown/Sideshow Games, 7: Tunnel of Love and 8: Fireworks. Sneak peek for upcoming chapter 'Drop Tower' below :P

“Remind you of waiting to drop into a combat zone?” the other clone asked, his voice a low rumble, Hunter could only pick his words out thanks to his enhanced senses – this was clearly a comment Crosshair was making for his ears alone, not as general conversation. He shivered as Cross’ long fingers skimmed across the skin of his palm, sensitive despite years of callouses. Despite how small the point of contact was, it set up a delicious feeling throughout his entire body. “That’s how I felt… waiting to come and see you today,” the sniper continued, lips barely moving. He was facing straight ahead, but the gentle action of his hand tracing Hunter’s told him he had his full attention. “How I’ve felt every time I thought about you since… that night.”

Interlude (505) and Laundry Day are officially in development as the next 2 stories after Fairground Date. It's probably going to be a while before any of the disparate snippets in the WIP doc currently titled 'BDHB smut' reach the story but I certainly don't plan for it to stay as cute hand-holding forever...

"Fuck." Hunter bit out the oath, tears welling and beading on his lashes as he scrunched his eyes closed. "Cross, it's too intense..." Crosshair stilled their bodies, waiting for a moment as Hunter gasped. "Do you want to stop?" "No," he whispered brokenly, pressing his forehead to Crosshair's. Fighting the urge to move, Crosshair stayed where he was, long fingers pressing divots into Hunter's hips but waiting for the signal to continue. After a moment Hunter hiccoughed something that sounded on the edge of a sob, and Crosshair drew his head back in soft horror. "You're crying," he rasped, voice curling with guilt. "Hunter, we don't have to do this-" "I want to." Hunter cut him off, a laugh shuddering through him as he lifted his arm from Cross' shoulder, swiping his forearm across his face to dry his tears. "I want you." There was a note of self-frustration as he shook his head. "It's just..." He trailed off, lifting his face to fix Crosshair with a gaze that glowed with devotion. "It's you. It's really you." After a moment Crosshair moved his hands on Hunter's sides, a soothing stroke. "You're okay. I've got you."

Listen smut is just a vehicle for two characters to have a really strong connection to each other, by the time they reach this point the boys have been through a lot together to get this far. I have been staring at this for far too long agonising over what to share from this wip; there's definitely *sexier* stuff than this but their eventual, emotional, long-awaited first-time seemed like the best option :)

[hushpuppy5-blog]

Periods? A Bloody Waste of Time 🩸

I'm entirely convinced at this point that anything that they tell us (women) is normal is actually bad for us. While pregnancy from male insemination can be avoided, periods are a different matter. I am certain that they are not meant to be painful at all, nor are we meant to bleed so heavily. If a period is (as some claim) truly the removal of toxins and other fluids, are we not going to analyze what the heck is intoxicating us to begin with?

I saw this documentary a while ago called "Red Moon: Menstruation, Culture, and the Politics of Gender" were several women were discussing the stigmatization of periods. I don't remember which part it was exactly, but they were mentioning how painful periods were an energy thing. For some women, especially those who have suffered from abuse in their past, something may energetically be going on with each monthly release. I think it even goes beyond that.

This world's version of normal seems to be in praise of degeneracy at every corner of life. Pregnancy is normal, yet many women die from it or leave with life long scars (physically and emotionally). Intercourse (which seems to skirt itself alongside pure violence) is normal, yet many women leave with disease or some form of mental disorder. Periods are normal, but many women suffer monthly from it to the point where they can become immobile for a day or two. It seems that just as man has intoxicated nature, he has intoxicated the women as well. Expertly so. Now women have convinced themselves and others that pain and suffering is normal. I found this document online discussing some doctors who observed the difference between the western women and who they called "primitive" women. The western women were described as having highly acidic bodies, whilst the other group of women had alkaline bodies.

During the study, the women who consumed more animal products were more susceptible to bleeding heavier and for a longer period during their menstrual. With the alkaline women who consumed more plant based foods, the menstruation almost ceased to exist.

Modern doctors will claim that the absence of a period is signs of a terrible condition. They'll even suggest that an eating disorder it at play. It's interesting they'll say that losing your periods is unnatural, but popping a pill full of foreign chemicals to "regulate" it is totally not cause for future concerns. Speaking of eating disorders—from a western perspective—arguably many people already have eating disorders. We eat until our bellies our stretched beyond normal, and we consume foods that are lifeless and will end up rotting in our stomachs. I do believe that an aspect of periods is normal, given their spiritual nature. In ancient times, they hinted at a connection between the cycles of the moon. This was when women could be most in tune with their bodies and souls, perhaps harnessing spirtual powers that may have been dulled any other time. Now, women are lying in bed curdling in pain during that time of the month. Not much can be done productively. Of course, not all women have this problem, but plenty do.

This is just some speculation though. For me personally, omitting meat and other animal products from my diet has changed the way I think. I'm only four months in though, and my decision to do this was spontaneous and came about due to some health concerns for mine. I have had asthma and eczema for most of my life. These are two inflammatory conditions that have left me breathless and peeling off my own skin to a gross degree. Since reducing my consumption of eggs and milk and taking out meat completely, I've been breathing better and I've had little to no rashes. As a shift to something completely plant based, I'm curious as to how it will further effect me physically alongside my future menstrual cycles as well. Again, this is just the case for myself and could effect others differently. I just know that society doesn't care for case by case conditions and wants EVERYBODY to do the exact same thing healthwise, regardless of how it effect them personally. They've been choosing death for us for centuries. Now, when some of us choose life, they want to call it dangerous pseudoscience. Spare me. Women need to get to know their own bodies on a personal level. Many modern doctors aren't healers. They're band-aid solutions. This includes female doctors, since they are getting paid too. We need to be in charge of our own health and start educating ourselves.

Periods were once considered the first curse on women. Perhaps they still are. They certainly aren't desired. This isn't to take the Christian perspective of "woman bad", but there are hidden truths within these ancient books that must be analyzed. In the case of Eve, she suffered two curses from God in Genesis 3:16:

"I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children."

And

"Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you."

There's no explicit mention of periods here, but pregnancy and periods go hand in hand on the pain spectrum it seems. The second quote is also intriguing. This desire for her husband is linked to pain as well as "inequality". I believe that her desire for Adam makes them far more equal than we realize. She suffers with him in his degeneracy now, although on a different level. It's also notable that her suffering is more severe and constant. Would she have this pain if she loved "God" more than Adam? Or if she loved herself more than Adam?

There are so many questions, many left unanswered. Regardless, there can be a more optimistic lens to this. Like many curses, perhaps this one can be broken.

[bluravenite]

Kinda wanna rant a bit about being a freelance artist and also struggling with mental illness !!

I like seeing Tumblr as my own personal blog because I can talk about things I care about and don't always feel like I have to cater to people, yet I still have sooo much to do, art for myself, commission requests, chores, projects, etc!!

I am currently sick so having a headache and peeled nose doesn't really help my case but I feel like we don't often see/hear about the struggle of being freelance and struggling with mental or physical illness (particularly chronic!!) and how debilitating it can be sometimes.

We often think the measure of success is in productivity and that our worth lies in the validation and approval of an external authoritative figure, like an algorithm. But I think that's often a harmful way to view human success and accomplishments, it is necessary to keep a level of understanding that validation is required as a part of motivation, but not the sole indicator of success.

People say that with great power comes great responsibility, but I think it's different, rather with great power* comes great expectancy of independent responsibility, be the power as it may not power at all, but rather life itself. When we grow up and become independent people suddenly expect this level of responsibility from everyone, but not everyone can meet that criteria. Humans need support, naturally, we are made to work in groups or rely on people for things! Be it emotionally, physically, environmentally, or chemically in our brains we crave to coexist with people, sometimes that can help us maintain a level of productivity and routine, but others it can hinder it. It's all about compatibility and about knowing and understanding yourself and what works for you!!

I don't wake up early every morning and eat breakfast and get to work and then do chores and have a perfectly balanced social life, in my current situation I find that late nights are when I work best, perhaps it could be early mornings but I live with people who are very awake in the mornings and I need my peace ans quiet to work, I find that I enjoy slow mornings and take 45-60 min breaks approximately every 2 hours of work, I like walking around my room and stretching whenever i feel too compressed and I try to eat at the same times every day so that I won't forget to, but it's not perfect and it's still a struggle. That doesn't mean I'm less productive! I've been trying to embrace taking breaks too, like real breaks.

Full days where I go without pushing myself to draw UNTIL I am so bored of the mundane thoughts that plague my mind that I am required to put them down on paper, and then I draw again, because I have a purpose.

It doesn't always work, MUCH easier said than done, but I still think allowing yourself to kind of "go with the flow" shows better productivity results at times, than forcing a habit when your brain and body aren't willing.

This was a little nonsensical journalistic rant about how I'm finding my mindset relating to art lately, been doing lots of explorations and learning to find comfort in creating again, thank you for reading if you did, and if you too struggle with this or with your own issues know that you're not alone, and I am always happy to listen in the replies or talk about other stuff.

At the end of the day I am a little human, just like you.

[fanatichistory]

Scene Prompt 19 pt 5

Part 1 Part2 Part 3 Part 4

This one is full of medical/lab whump! Next part is going to have more of Whumper in it ;D Enjoy!

(Should I give the team names at all? Like Dr. Nova has a name...kinda tempted to name the team members...)

CW: Medical whump, multiple whumpees, needles

Teammate One continued to scream and thrash against the restraints holding them to the gurney. It felt as if their blood was on fire and their skin was peeling off.

The soldiers wheeling them through the hallway were glancing uncomfortably at each other every now and again with Whumper taking up the rear.

"In here." Whumper directed, pointing to the room just ahead.

As they all entered single file through the door, the gurney wheeled between the two soldiers, Dr. Nova looked up from his microscope at the counter and turned to greet them.

"Ah, I see Teammate One is experiencing the enemy's serum…good, good. Place them there." He indicated the open space in front of the monitor and machines.

As the soldiers deposited the gurney with the still screaming and thrashing Teammate One, Whumper stepped up to Dr. Nova and handed over the dart gun.

"For the posterity of your work, you should know that they have two shots in their system. The first one didn't seem to be working effectively. That, or they just tolerated the pain a little to well."

"I saw." Dr. Nova indicated the security feed of the holding cells on his computer. "You simply did not give enough time for it to kick in is all." He drolled, though his tone held the faintest reprimand in it.

Whumper shrugged with an apologetic smile. "I'll leave you to your work, then, Doctor."

Truth be told Teammate One's screams, which hadn't let up yet, were beginning to grate on his ears. Not that Whumper didn't mind screaming in general, but it had already been several minutes now and he was bored.

Dr. Nova merely nodded as they injected something into Whumpee's Iv bag and walked across the large room, picking up the clipboard with Teammate One's notes from his desk, and began looking them over.

Teammate panted heavily, their eyes casting wildly about, their blood still on fire and their skin still feeling like it was peeling off their body layer by layer. Their throat was hoarse as they continued to scream out in agony.

"Yes…they truly manipulated my serum to be absolutely incapacitating…Tell me, what does it feel like?" Dr. Nova gently placed two fingers on Teammate One's pulse to assure themselves that it matched the monitor reading.

"F-f-fire!"

"Interesting. I don't know whether to be impressed by their science division or insulted that my version of the serum was inadequate in some way." They mused mostly to themselves as they scribbled on the clipboard before going to the wall that housed a metal storage rack full of various vials and bottles and chemicals.

Plucking a small bottle from the middle shelf, taking next a few empty vials, Dr. Nova turned to the counter, opening a drawer and pulling out two clean syringes and removed one from the packaging. Their pace was unhurried despite Teammate One's obvious pain and they seemed rather unbothered by the continual screaming.

"This should counter it's effects, but first I need to draw some blood before I can administer it." Placing the instruments on a metal tray, he walked over to where the rolling cart was sitting and placed it on top.

Wheeling it over to their bedside, he picked up the needle and tapped with a finger to find a decent enough vein in their arm.

Teammate One's continued thrashing made it rather difficult, even with the restraints in place, but after a few minutes Dr. Nova was sure he was able to stick the vein as he quietly went about filling up the empty vials with his blood samples.

"Alright, hush now, I probably should have worn ear plugs for this." He mused as he prepared the antidote to the enemy's serum. Hopefully, it worked.

Jabbing it into their bicep he began cleaning up the tray and placing everything back in it's proper place, disposing of the packaging, and placing the blood samples on the counter next to the microscope for further inspection.

Teammate One began to slowly quiet down as the antidote started to take effect. The fire in their veins was beginning to cool finally.

Dr. Nova stood next to their bedside now that the screaming had stopped and they had begun to openly cry. "Walk me through the experience, Teammate One, what did it feel like? Use your words now."

They looked up tiredly, thoroughly exhausted and wanting nothing more than to sleep. But it still felt as if their skin was peeling off, itchy and uncomfortable to a degree they couldn't even begin to describe and it left them in tears.

"Teammate One…speak."

"The f-fire in my veins is-is gone now…" Dr. Nova began to write on the clipboard, shoving their glasses up the nose when it slid down.

"But?"

"My s-skin…it feels wrong. L-Like being peeled…layer by layer." They answered between sobs, their eyes pleading for relief.

"Intriguing to say the least." He responded as he finished his notes, leaving Teammate One as they were. Preparing a slide with a blood sample, he sat at the microscope and raised his glasses to the top of his head to sit out of the way and he leaned over to peer through the lens.

A heartbeat or two go by, Teammate One residing themselves to the fact that their skin with never be comfortable or feel this agonizing from now on as a side effect of the experiment under way.

"My serum was indeed vastly inadequate…this combination of components is markedly inspiring…" Dr. Nova mused, wonder and jealousy lacing his tone as he flicked to different magnifications. "I wonder who concocted this."

Across the room, Whumpee's monitor gave a single beep, alerting Dr. Nova that there was a slight change in rhythm.

It also drew Teammate One's attention as well as he got up to check the machines and make note of the change on the clipboard at the foot of Whumpee's bed.

Whumpee was still injured severely from the other day when Whumper had 'interrogated' them, leaving them multiple broken bones including their ribs, both their legs and one of their arms. It wasn't until after the base was taken over that the team found out that Dr. Nova had requested the broken bones in particular, to test something Teammate One was sure, but apparently Whumper had gotten to enthusiastic that Dr. Nova had to wait until Whumpee was stable enough to even begin.

"H-how is Whumpee?" They dared to ask while simultaneously hoping for information as to what Dr. Nova planned to do with them.

It seemed like the doctor was ignoring them at first as they put the clipboard back and sat at their microscope once more.

"They are recovering just fine. They are stable and resting, though I'm sure that aberration was due to a nightmare of some kind. It is common in subjects who have been through a psychological trauma." He half-answered, turning his back to Teammate One as they resumed their notes on their blood work.

"Interesting…" He murmured aloud, here and there as he continued to work the blood samples.

Teammate One had given up counting the styrofoam tiles on the ceiling and cataloguing every item on the doctors desk. Their skin still hurt and they needed a distraction.

"What is?"

Dr. Nova glanced back over their shoulder with a raised brow. "What I am clearly working on, Teammate One. I know you are still experiencing some adverse effects, the antidote needs some improvement to be sure, but if you would quit interrupting I would be able to manufacture one much sooner for you."

"S-sorry."

"Quite alright…" he turned back to his work, collecting various bottles and vials to bring to his work station as he got to work.

"If you need a distraction try counting sheep."

[izzyfromdeadspace]

@blank-vessel

She'd gotten the alert from Marcus and at first worried that it had been for her mom instead. But with her offworld she didn't have the time to reroute it. The squad had broken into a lab run by unitology and funded by her grandfather to create their prophesied saint. While there they'd stumbled across notes on a facility just the next town over where failures and deformed beings were sent to be disposed of. What she read disturbed her so she just suited up. Running off in full battle armor would attract too much attention so she reluctantly donned some heavy leather pants and jacket. It had protective leather plates sewn in to reinforce her joints and vital systems so it was better than nothing. Grabbing la backpack filled with medical supplies and tools she put on her helmet and ran out to her bike. In twenty minutes she was shooting out towards the next town over and hoping she wasn't too late.

The facility wasn't guarded very well and she figured it probably was because it was a death camp. Failures and malformed 'freaks' were sent here to be melted back down into protocells to be cleaned and reused later for other experiments. Getting in was easy she knocked out a guard and took his badge. Rushing in she checked the computers only to muffle a cry as they'd initiated a mass purge of all specimens. Running off to the room she could hear screaming and the sounds of slaughter. It brought back visons of the Sprawl so she just pushed harder.

Getting to the door of the chamber she all but ripped it open and felt the heat of superheated chemicals and sterilizing fire rushing out. She had to try and save them. Slamming a hand on the controls she aborted the process and ran in ignoring how her protective clothes began to smoulder and burn off her body. It was a massacre. Half melted bodies filled the room but she still heard screaming from under a pile of charred and melted flesh. It appeared that a dozen or so specimens had piled up in the center of the room to try and escape their fate. Peeling back blackened bones and scalding hot melting flesh she found someone who hadn't been killed. Gabbing them up into her arms she ran out to the chemical showers and bathed them both in the cooling spray. Her helmet cracked in half and fell off due to the heated plastic shattering once the cold compound hit it. Not caring that her own body had begun to burn and melt she just held them close. It didn't matter what they were or how deformed they claimed they were she wasn't going to let go. If only she'd been quicker than maybe she could have saved more.

[officialdaydreamer00]

*hands you a free talk-about-iris-ambrose card* >:DD

*cracks fingers* I'M ON IT >:D

General information

Full name: Katharinya Iris Ambrose

Pronouns: She/her

Species: Living doll

Age: You do not ask a woman, nor a living doll her age

Description: A sentient doll who breathes and walks this earth. No one knows how she did it or came to be, since she just appeared in [ ] biochemistry facility one day, but all collectively decided to let her do what she wants.

Specialises in: Highly dangerous chemicals and the human body

Trivial facts

Iris uses she/her despite the fact that she doesn't actually has a gender.

Iris does enjoy dressing up from time to time.

Iris has poisoned many people in the facility multiple times before, both accidentally and purposely.

Iris has been cracked and nearly shattered an entire arm. This made the entire facility went from panicked to mortified and curious when her arm formed the next day as if nothing happened. The broken arm was then transferred to the lab for further research.

As a doll, Iris doesn't need to eat or sleep. But she does it anyways because "I was bored."

Her favourite food is strawberry parfait.

She hates lemon and sour products, because the nitric acid peels away her coat of paint and gives her an uncomfortable experience.

She sometimes tampers with explosives and human psychology.

[mmpi-3]

one 18.25 oz package chocolate cake mix. 1 can prepared coconut pecan frosting, 3/4 cup vegetable oil, 4 large eggs, 1 cup semi sweet chocolate chips, 3/4 cup butter or margarine, soften 1 and 2/3 cups granulated sugar, 3 large eggs, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract, 2 cups all purpose flour, 2/3 cup cocoa, 1 and 1/4 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon baking powder, 1 and 1/3 cups water, 1 ?? 16 oz each cans vanilla frosting. don't forget garnishes such as fish shaped crackers, fish shaped candies, fish shaped solid waste, fish shapes dirt, fish shaped ethylbenzene, pull and peel licorice, fish shaped volatile organic compounds and sediment shaped sediment, a 20 ft. thick impermeable clay layer, candy coated peanut butter pieces shaped like fish, blue and yellow food colours, alpha resins, unsaturated polyester resin, fiberglass surface resins and volatile melted milk impoundments, 9 large egg yolks, 12 medium geosynthetic membranes, 3 large whole eggs, 1 cup granulated sugar, 1 cup lemon juice, for immunosensors. 2 cups heavy cream 3 tablespoons granulated sugar. 2 egg based gelled flame fuels. 2 cups rhubarb sliced. 2/3 cup granulated rhubarb. 1 tablespoon all purpose rhubarb. one tablespoon grated orange rhubarb. an entry called "how to kill someone with you bare hands". 2 teaspoons baking rhubarb. 1/2 teaspoons salt and rhubarb. 3 tablespoons rhubarb on fire. one large rhubarb. 3 tablespoons rhubarb milk. one cross bore hole electromagnetic imaging rhubarb. two tablespoons rhubarb juice. sweet potato tea cake. take me to a picnic cake. trim time chocolate cake roll. tropical snack cake. tunnel of fudge cake. sour creme pumpkin Bundt cake. spicy jalapeno chocolate cake. upside down apple coffee cake. upside down rhubarb cake. upside down flux sampling device cake.

vanilla crazy cake. vanilla crazy cake. vanilla. crazy. cake. vanilla crazy. cake. vanilla crazy. cake. vanilla. crazy cake. vanilla crazy. cake vanilla. crazy cake. vanilla crazy cake. vanilla crazy cake. vanilla. crazy. cake. vanilla crazy. cake. vanilla crazy. cake vanilla. crazy cake. vanilla crazy. cake vanilla. crazy cake. nutcracker sweet ginger walnut thermal reactor loaf. old fashioned fibre optic relative humidity sensor cake, old south prune cake. one bowl chocolate cake with easy laser induced fluorescent frosting, persimmon pudding cake. pineapple upside down cake 1, pineapple upside down cake 2, pineapple upside down cake 3, arm and hand positioner, full width plastic body positioners, multi block plastic body positioners, extremities positioner, aluminium body bridges, plastic lower body positioner. pineapple upside down cake 4, adjustable aluminum head positioner, disposable polystyrene head blocks, slaughter electric needle injector, cordless electric needle injector, injector needle driver, injector needle gun. cranial caps malformers. rhubarb and rhubarb and rhubarb and rhubarb. and rhubarb. and it contains proven preservatives, deep penetration agents and gas and odor control chemicals that will deodorize and preserve putrid tissue as well as areas of the body that arterial embalming may have missed. and rhubarb. okay, we're even now. you can stop.