Fledermaus, €19.90, Zum Durnbrau (2005) https://menus.nypl.org/menus/26680
Fledermaus, €19.90, Zum Durnbrau (2005) https://menus.nypl.org/menus/26680
| Blog curated by @asoftcreature
this girlboss in apron gonna do some cleansing
In My Head(43)
Darcy: Why do you like me?
Lizzy: Uhm.. the way you are, your personality..
Darcy: For my personality?
Lizzy: I know! I was surprised too.
I love that the Sinclairs just, have a dog. Like, she’s not an attack dog and doesn’t help with the killing or any other plot device reasons, she’s just their pet that they have because they love her.
Title: Kinktober Day 21 (Xenophilia / Titfucking / Armpit)
Word Count: 1,245
Pairing: Bo Sinclair x Trans femme reader
Warnings: Topics around dysphoria, very subtly implied abuse, NO mentions of any lower genitals. It's a very poignant piece, if the topics listed bother you please proceed with caution.
Some days, a sombre feeling takes up residence between your joints. Making its presence known with each slight shift of your body. As if every way you moved was wrong, an unnatural force of nature that you were helpless to stop. On days like this, it was easier to stay in bed. It didn’t matter if your skin got hot and sticky with sweat under the blankets. It was better than the alternative of going about your day feeling as though your skin was ablaze with white-hot flames that you could never become accustomed to but remained so acutely aware of.
Your face is pressed into the soft fabric of your pillowcase, inhaling the lingering scent of your floral shampoo. You could smell hints of Bo as well, and for a moment, the lingering tobacco and cologne soothed you. However, it was fleeting as your mind soon began to spin out in thoughts of how Bo would merely tell you to get over it—stating that you were ridiculous and pathetic for this train of thought. You curl up further as if the smaller you could make yourself, the higher the chances of your dysphoria dissipating were.
The shifting of weight on the bed startles you, and you peak out from beneath the thick covers to see Bo staring down at you. He works hard at masking the irritation that creases his brow, which you were thankful for; it was better than a verbal lashing.
“Bad day?” You nod your head, and he lets out a sigh, shoulders deflating slightly. You wonder where this softness had crept up from, not that you were complaining, but it was still peculiar for Bo to be this way with you. However, it was becoming more commonplace as the years went on, so perhaps there was a softness to Bo that just needed to be uncovered and fixed up. A hand comes to stroke through the hair on your head, calloused hands working through tiny knots carefully. “Don’t know how many times I gotta tell ya you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, Darlin.”
You blush and avert your gaze fighting the urge to disappear below the comforter and free yourself of Bo’s piercing gaze. But, instead, you remain there lest the softness begin to harden and his patience wears thin.
The next few moments are a flurry that you just allow to happen. There was no point in fighting how Bo maneuvers your body; he’d do it regardless of if you protested or not. It was easier to submit, to let him loom over your body and press his lips to yours. As always, he commanded the kiss, enveloping you in the strong taste of coffee and cigarettes that you had come to associate with the man. Hands began to wander, groping at your sides and cupping your breasts over the loose-fitting shirt you wore with a tenderness that was hard to believe came from the hands that were soaked with the blood of countless lives.
Never do his hands dip lower than your hips; he knows better than to do so. You like to think that he respects you enough not to do that, especially in such a moment. You’d grown past the point where he felt the need to push and prod at your boundaries. He didn’t take pleasure, at least from that, in watching you drown in a sea of dysphoria. Perhaps he just didn’t have the energy to put up with it. Not that you could blame him; most days, you didn’t either.
Bo’s teeth catch your lower lip with enough force that you gasp, arching your back till your breasts press against the wrinkled cotton of his shirt. “You’re still thinkin’ too much. Can nearly hear your fuckin’ thoughts.”
You can’t help but laugh with soft bitterness at that. Eyes fluttering shut as you allow yourself to sink into the feeling of Bo’s hands massaging your breasts. It was grounding in a sense, perhaps due to you coming to associate these gentle touches, although sexually charged, with comfort. It was the only way Bo really knew how to put you at ease, to remind you that he found you beautiful. The man never was too good for words. Even when he screamed and yelled till his cheeks were rosy, and the veins popped along his skin, it was never eloquent but rather unbridled anger with no direction. Bo had always been far more meticulous with his hands than he ever could be with his mouth.
Bo eases you out of your shirt, gently helping to pull it over your head to toss it somewhere to the floor. Your breasts bounce slightly at the movement, and you can’t help the smile that curls at your lips when Bo appears transfixed by the movement. However, he doesn’t let his eyes remain for long, opting to cup your breasts and allowing the pad of his thumb to graze over a pebbled nipple.
A loud cry rips from your throat, head lolling back against the pillow. Bo snickers softly. “There’s my girl.” A warmth floods your chest, easing away the gnarled knots that took residence within you. “So fuckin’ pretty for me, aren’t you?”
You crack open an eye to look at Bo only to find those sharp blue eyes staring intently at you, clearly waiting for an answer. You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat, the lingering reservations rearing their head and holding your voice hostage. Bo clicks his tongue, but he doesn’t look angry at you for your lack of response.
Jingles float through the air as Bo undoes his belt. It clatters loudly as the metal buckle meets the floorboards. You hear the sound of his zipper being undone and watch the way he shimmies his jeans and briefs partway down his thighs, allowing his cock to spring free. The tip is flushed and rosy, precum bubbling at the slit as veins pop along the length of his cock. It makes that warmth turn into something sweltering that melts your insides.
You go to grasp his cock in your hand but are stopped when he grabs your wrist in a bruising hold. “Ah, ah, ah,” He tuts with a shake of his head. You go to whine pitifully as he guides your hands, moving you to his will. In the end, your hands grasp each breast, keeping them pushed together as Bo’s cock lays nestled between them. “There we go.”
Slowly, his hips begin to move. The rolling is slow and steady as he stares down at you with equal parts hunger and reverence. It makes your cheeks heat up, and you want to look away from him but feel unable to; you’re far too transfixed with the softness that has overtaken eyes that usually were hardened and guarded. “Do you wanna try that again? Want to tell me how pretty you are?”
“I’m pretty for you,” The words come out easier, and you find yourself allowing nimble fingers to play with your nipples. Bo smiles at this rather than reprimanding you for doing something he hadn’t allowed.
“That’s my girl.” Bo praises, reaching down to run the pad of his thumb along your lower lip. You part your lips effortlessly, allowing his thumb to venture into your mouth, pressing down against the wet muscle of your tongue. “That’s my good girl. Always so fuckin’ pretty.”
manifesting a Forte, Wiig, Hader, Armisen, Meyers reunion
Vincent Sinclair x GN!Reader
WORD COUNT: 811
WARNINGS: nsfw, wax play (duh), mention of a safe word, not proofread
Vincent watches you with curious eyes as you get comfortable on the bed. This was the first time either of you were trying this and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. This had been a huge fantasy for him well before you had come along, but now that you were here, he was kind of afraid of hurting you.
“Vince, baby, I promise I’m alright with this. I know the safe word,” He gives you a pointed look, candle and lighter clutched in his left hand and you sigh. “Soufflé.” He hums at the word; he just wanted to double check. Vincent walks over to you slowly, stopping and standing in front of you. You were naked, as was he, and the room was beginning to finally cool down after Vincent had shut down the pot in the work room.
You watch as he lights the candle stick and places the lighter on the bedside table and waits. The wax drips down the candlestick slowly and you can feel your heart begin to race as the drop of wax falls. It hits your collarbone and you suck in a sharp breath at the burn but it subsides quickly.
Vincent waits for you to say the safe word but you don’t and he carries on. The droplets of wax create a line down the valley of your chest and down your stomach, the pain subsiding almost immediately. Each time the wax dripped onto your skin you felt your breath catch in your throat and your thighs squeeze together just a bit harder. Vincent can see the effect it’s having on you.
“Beautiful,” He says softly, trailing the candle down further. The wax on your thighs hurts more than it had on your stomach, especially when he nudged your knee, asking you to open your legs for him. The wax drips onto your inner thighs and you wince as it runs down, creating a thin line of wax before it dries.
“Vinny, please, I need you,” You ask, hoping he’d crack, hoping he’d kiss you and have his way with you. But now he was living his fantasy and he was going to take his time. The candle goes up your body once more and your eyes widen. “What’re you-” The first drop of wax hits your nipple and you gasp loudly, sitting up. Vincent nearly jumps backwards, his eyes wide in a panic. “You fucking scared me! God, can you warn me next time you do that?”
He nods in apology and you sigh, settling back down onto the bed. “I’m sorry,” Vincent say’s, his voice louder this time. He was still standing away from you. You sigh and reach your hand out and he takes a hold of it.
“It’s alright, I promise. Just… it took me by surprise, that’s all.” You can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he doesn’t truly believe you. “It did feel kind of good…” He perks up at this and you grin; of course that made him feel better. “Do it again?”
You don’t have to ask him twice. Taking a step closer to you, he holds the candle out and you notice that wax had dripped down his hand. It hadn’t even affected him, though you’re not shocked. He worked with wax everyday for years, it'd be strange if the sensation of wax on his fingers bothered him.
You close your eyes in preparation and a few droplets land on your nipple in quick succession. It hurts just as bad as it had the last time, but the sensation sent a shiver down your spine. It felt good, too. The heat that quickly vanished just hardened your nipples and each drop had your back arching off the bed.
Vincent repeats the action on your other nipple, humming contentedly after he completely covers it. “M’finished.” He says simply, blowing out the candle and putting it away. You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he begins to pick at the dried wax, starting back up at your collarbone.
Your skin under the wax is slightly raw and he soothes it with his finger, running it up and down over the burns. When he gets to your thighs he kisses them, licking at the shallow wounds to soothe them. He’s slow when it comes to removing the wax on your nipples, flicking at the bud after removing all of the wax before taking them into his mouth.
“F-fuck!” You whimper at the feely, your legs clenching together and your hips bucking upwards. Vincent is quick to grab your waist and push you down, holding you flat against the mattress. His assault on your chest doesn’t stop until you’re nearly in tears.
With a pop he lets go, moving his head up and staring at you with a wicked grin. “Are you ready?”
AAA A A A AA
12 Volt Cigarette Lighter Fuse OBD Fuse Ford Explorer Sport Trac (2000-2005)
If your 12 volt sockets, cigarette lighter fuse and OBD fuse Ford Explorer Sport Trac years 2000 to 2005, are not working this is the first things to check. The type of fuse I used in the video was a, mini fuse 20amp.
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there's an auction for a wonka bar and i kinda want it
actually, it's for a wwatcf chocolate bar and there's a separate one for FOUR catcf 2005 bars
Graphics from Cartoon Network's international sites, circa 2003-2006.
So I watched House of Wax for the first time the other day and I have a question: was Trudy Sinclair a normal artist, or was she the one who started the killing spree and her sons continued it after her death? When Bo was talking to Vincent about ‘what mom always wanted’, I thought what she wanted was just to fill the town up with wax figures, normal ones, but now I’m not so sure. Plus, if she was the one who started the process of them using live figures, that would explain why Vincent seemed to be listening to Carly’s reasoning up until she brought up his mother. Carly tries to talk him down by saying his mother wouldn’t want this and Vince snaps soon after. Of course this could be referring to his conversation with Bo earlier, but if Trudy was the one to start it off then Vince would immediately know Carly was just making shit up.
WHERE: 16th Annual Glamour Magazine 'Women Of The Year' Awards
WHEN: November 2, 2005
Zac Posen Delphi Knit Dress - Sold Out
WHERE: 'Cheaper By The Dozen 2' Premiere
WHEN: December 13, 2005
Zac Posen Dress - Sold Out
vincent for ma tumblr homies