#trailing cables

[imtcables]

[mamidots]

BOOM DOUBLE POST with bestie @saintpixie oc Eren !!!!

[ldbhattar]

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[skipppppy]

The life of Stanford Pines must be so bizarre from the perspective of a random townsperson who doesn’t know him. Imagine you live in a sleepy lumber town, where the most interesting thing you’ve heard this week is that a plot of land on the outskirts of the woods was sold and someone has started constructing a cabin on there.

You later learn by word of mouth that he’s a phd student doing some kind of long-term research project. You don’t see his face until one night he comes blasting down the street on a trail of destruction, eyes yellow and glazed over, trashing public property, inflicting gruesome injuries on himself, and laughing like he’s on an erratic, drug-fuelled bender. He then goes home and locks himself in his cabin again. This becomes a cycle; he stays isolated for weeks, then comes out once in a blue moon to wreak havoc and be a nuisance to the authorities.

Then one day it stops. He doesn’t come back out. The next time you see him he’s at a grocery store looking completely different to how you remember; his hair is grown out, he’s put on weight, his clothes are completely different and he’s stopped wearing glasses. Some townsfolk finally work up the nerve to talk to him and you learn that he invited them to his cabin on a tour. His home is apparently FULL of dangerous research equipment and the scientist, who had allegedly been very quiet and level-headed on the days he wasn’t having his “episodes,” has had a complete personality change, he’s loud and confident and less than honest and a little sleazy but a damn good salesman and entertainer.

He hosts tours out of his home for the next 30 years. Over time he’d changed it into a museum of sorts that sells overpriced knickknacks to unsuspecting tourists, but aside from his shady business practices he’s a well known member of his community. He changes up the exhibits every few months, brings his niece and nephew to stay one summer and they become town darlings, and even exposes a beloved public figure for running a spyware scheme.

One day you hear he got visited by the FBI. They start going round town asking about him. A week or so later he gets arrested. The town goes CRAZY theorising why but then there’s a massive earthquake and in the chaos of that you forget what happened to him. One minute you hear that the feds were surrounding his house and the next they’re all leaving like they forgot what they came for. Another week later he resurfaces and announces he’s going to run for Mayor, dominated the polls, wins the popular vote, but loses his position immediately due to an extensive criminal record.

Then there’s gossip that he completely changed his appearance again. He’s lost his fez and is walking around in a coat and cable knit turtleneck in the middle of the July heat. Then you hear from someone else that he looks the exact same and didn’t change anything. Then you see two identical men walking down the street, one matching the description you saw. People are BUZZING to know what happened and you eventually learn that the “new guy” was actually the same Scientist and the guy that had been running the museum was his twin brother who stole his identity after he went missing. Then the apocalypse happens

[goaskangel]

perv!toji and his sweet virgin gf - part two!

part one

toji’s got you exactly where he wants you. soft and pliable, a little cold to the side of him on the couch. you’re invested in the show broadcasted on the TV, mouth dropped a little with your eyes glued on what’ll happen next. your hands are clenched gently on toji’s shirt as you guys cuddle with a small pull-over on the both of you. 

he couldn’t care less about the show but he’s real intrigued by you. his hands rub and grope at the fat of your thighs carefully, smoothing his knuckles on your cold skin.

his face resting on your head, leaving the occasional kiss to your temple or a sniff of the perfume behind your neck. 

usually the closest he could get without you flustering up immediately was casual cuddling. so these little touches on your legs and his body pressing up behind yours was the biggest privilege to him. he can’t scare you off so easily so he continues.

“awh!” you jolt up slightly when the episode’s left on a cliffhangers, advertisements and trailers play on the cable. “can’t believe it.” whispering as you accept defeat and relax back down again, a pout on your face as your hand trails down to find your boyfriend’s strong hand on your upper thigh. 

“toj’...” your squeeze at him, your body suddenly warming. 

“don’t know how you focused. so invested. i definitely couldn’t pay attention.”  he emphasizes by kneading the fat of your hips. 

you roll from your side to resting your back on the armrest, “mm, you’re so dramatic.” taking your hand to brush your fingers on his sculpted jaw. he takes this time to get a hold of it and pepper kisses on your hand  

“yeah, for good reason.” he speaks between pecs, taking his time to trail down your body. but crawling down quick enough before you can object. cherishing the pieces of skin that’s exposed from your raised shirt, all the soft skin your shorts expose. your arms coming to rest beside you, unsure what to do as the experienced man presses smooches into you. 

deep and possessive mutters come from him, “so perfect. this untouched body, all mine. you know how sexy it is? knowing i’m the only one who knows how you feel?” he dips his head between your thighs as he looks up to your needy but nervous expression. you close your legs to hold any modesty you have left. you’ve never done anything with him, let alone anything with anybody. your hearts racing–it’s too much to decide if you do really want this, what if you embarrass yourself in front of him? he rubs low and shallow circles on your kneecaps, open-mouth kisses on your body. 

“you’re overthinking it, baby. i jus’ wanna make you come, right on my fingers–make you feel so good. that so bad?”

“toji, i don’t…” you pause. 

your fingers dip into the waistband of your shorts and you slide them down. 

“yeah, there she is, my good girl.” he helps you with the rest. he’s so incredibly eager and he shows it. throwing your shorts to the ground like they’re nothing before diving between your legs. he smiles hard at the sticky spot of your panties and presses his thumb at your clothed clit. your back arches off the couch from the sudden impact, starting to moan quietly at how he conditions you to his touch by circling his finger on your wanting bud. before you know it, your only protection is ripped away and toji’s eyeing your cunt like the greedy man he is. he spits a good glob of saliva on the hood and watches how it dribbles down past your folds, slick with your own arousal, to the couch cushions. 

he sucks on his middle finger for a second and teases the tip at your fluttering hole, 

“pretty virgin pussy, you ever take anything besides your own little fingers?”

you shake your head, biting your lip knowing just one of his fingers could deflower you alone. you throb at the thought and buck your hips, “put it in already.” 

“mhm, can’t wait to hear that again.” he squeezes past the soft folds whilst thumbing your clit, his finger digging in carefully as you wince. you’re pouring of soppy gloss as he manages to reach another finger into you, cooing at your little curses and urges. reassuring you with dirty words like you’re so warm, sweet girl. gonna feel this way around my cock when i have my way, huh? gonna sound so pretty when i fuck your little body. tight and fuckin’ wet, bet you taste so good.

he tongues at the mess around your labia and tight hole, making you gasp. something so warm and fluid, nothing like you’ve felt before. just safe vibrators and your hands to make you come but this, this was so much. so much more intense–now he’s fucking your tight pussy with his tongue. it already felt so long and hot in your mouth and now it’s inside you. 

your hips roll, a strong stir in your lower back. “toji–augh, oh! mmm–can’t, it’s so much. gonna come toji i’m close” 

you come undone, right on his mouth as he continues fucking you through your orgasm. praising you and kissing your inner thighs, licking his fingers clean. pressing a few to your clit, making you giggle through exhaustion when he tries kissing your lips when his are covered with your wetness. mmm he can’t wait for the day you let him really love you!

masterlist

taglist : @tojisfourthbiatchoftheweek @booboobear-12 @anthy-jay-ander @euhphoq @duooy

lmk if yall want more/to be added to the taglist!!!!!!!!!!

[thebibliosphere]

To be clear, unless staff trips over the trail of extension cords keeping the servers running, Tumblr likely isn't going anywhere any time soon.

What the info we've seen suggests is that updates are going to slow down, maintenance is maybe going to get a little shaky, and we're going to see more glitches as time goes on and the remaining staff gets further behind their workload.

Is this a good thing? No, absolutely not.

Should you be panicking, jumping overboard, running for the hills, etc? Also no.

So what does it mean?

Well, for myself and several other creatives you all saw tagged in that post, it means we're looking around trying to figure out what to do in the long run. We're not running for the lifeboats. We're just eyeing the iceberg in the distance and getting our shit together in the event that the worst comes to pass.

Speaking for myself, I intend to crawl through the walls of Tumblr until they pry me out of the air vents armed with a broom and oven mitts. I'm not going anywhere until the lights go out, and even then, I'll be chewing on the wires.

But that doesn't mean I'm not looking around for somewhere to land when the time comes.

Myself and several others are not panicking about this, but we are trying to be organized about it.

I'm just old enough to remember when fandom websites being nuked overnight was a very real thing. You'd go to bed one night and wake up the next day to find friends you'd known for years were just gone with no means of contacting them because the site you'd been using got wiped. Entire collections of fandom history were just destroyed in the blink of an eye.

We don't want that again. And the good news is, we have time. We have time to back up our shit, time to swap contact info with our friends, and time to find a new place to exist within our communities while also staying here because Tumblr ain't dead yet.

She's just slowly going to wind down over time.

Unless, of course, they trip over the cables. Then we're fucked.

[suitelifeoftravel]

Cade's Cove, Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee

I found myself mesmerized by the playful shadows fading in and out upon the Smoky Mountains.  Surrounded by clouds, the rolling hills were dense with firs and oaks, rising up in the distance from the valley of Cades Cove.  I decided to take an early morning drive along the 11-mile loop, one way auto tour to visit this informative living history museum.  Picking up the brochure, I began my…

[worldwirecables]

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[wchswift]

── ❝ tied him down to my queen bed ❞

pairing! soldier boy x fem!reader

summary! you want to spice up things, so you tie up soldier boy. (Inspired by "Freak" by Doja Cat.)

contents! no plot just porn, established relationship, rough sex, power play, light bondage, kinda sub/dom!soldier boy, degradation, edging/denial, overstimulation, names (sweetheart, doll, brat & bitch), dirty talk, praise & degradation kink, teasing, oral/face sitting (f & m receiving), and probably more; very intense and filthy sexual content so mdni 𖤐 18+ !!

word count! 1.4k

You decided that tonight you wanted to try something different with Ben.

He immediately gave you that sly, bitchy smile of his, not even questioning it. The freak that he is.

But tonight, you wanted to match his freak, do some bad things to him. Spice up his life a little. And that's why you had the big, admired Supe tied down on your queen bed.

The sheets are silk beneath your thighs, black as sin, clinging to your skin like smoke. Soldier Boy is stretched out on his back, arms pulled taut above his head, thick rope biting into his wrists. His chest rises and falls, sweat-slick and heaving, muscles flexing as he tests the restraints. But you tied them well. You made sure of it.

"Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart," he growls, voice deep, ragged. His biceps strain, veins popping, but he’s not getting out of this. "You really think this’ll hold me?"

You hum, trailing your fingers down his chest, nails just sharp enough to sting. "That’s the fun part, isn’t it?"

His jaw tightens, that sharp, stubborn line of his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. You can feel the heat of him, the way his body radiates it, coiled and waiting, just on the edge. His cock is thick and heavy against his stomach, twitching every time your touch ghosts over him without giving him what he wants.

"You really want to tease me, huh? Do you think this will make me love or hate you?" he mutters, his smirk sharp. "Gotta say, doll, if it's the second option, doin’ a damn good job."

You grin, dragging your mouth down his torso, kissing over the old battle wounds. He’s all hard planes and rough edges, but here, tied up beneath you, he’s yours to unravel.

"That so?" you murmur against his skin, breath hot. Your nails scrape down his abs, slow, intentional. He shudders.

His hands twitch in the bindings, but he can’t move. Can’t touch you.

"Goddamn tease," he rasps, his hips jerking when you shift lower, your breath feather-light where he wants it most.

You let the silence stretch, your tongue flicking out, just barely tracing the thick vein running along his cock. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, muscles locking up like steel cables.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he hisses, tugging at the restraints again, but they hold. He’s at your mercy. "Quit playin’."

You tilt your head, lashes low, fingers ghosting up his thighs. "Make me. Oops, that's right, you can't."

The growl that rumbles from his chest is deep, primal. His arms flex, a warning, but he’s stuck right where you want him. Helpless. Desperate.

You take your time, dragging your tongue along the length of him, savoring the way he twitches, curses, his head falling back against the pillow. His hands clench into fists above him, but he can’t do a damn thing about it.

His breathing is rough, labored, the heat rolling off him like a furnace.

"Jesus fuckin’ Christ, woman," he groans, his voice almost breaking when you hollow your cheeks around him, sinking down slowly.

His control is slipping. His cock throbs in your mouth, his hips trying to jerk up, but you press a firm hand against his stomach, holding him down.

"Shit—doll—"

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, lips wet, mouth curved in a wicked little smile. His chest heaves, green eyes burning.

"You’re playin’ a dangerous game," he growls.

"Am I?" your voice drips with sarcasm, you clearly enjoying it too much.

His thighs are trembling beneath your hands, his cock twitching in your grip, veins bulging along his forearms as he fights against the ropes. You’ve got him right where you want him—strung tight, wrecked, teetering on the edge.

And you’re not done yet.

You make the Soldier Boy come apart while you watch it—feel it, in the way his body strains, muscles trembling, sweat rolling down his abs in thin rivulets. His cock is thick, swollen, slick with your spit, twitching against your palm as you stroke him slowly. Agonizing.

You think you've never seen him like this and you even dare to say that maybe he's never been like this.

"You fuckin' brat," he growls, voice wrecked, thick with something dark and desperate. "Untie me, and I swear to God, I'm gonna—"

You pull off him with a filthy pop, licking your lips as you meet his furious, lust-drunk gaze. His wrists are raw where he's tugged at the restraints, his knuckles flexing like he wants to wrap them around your throat and fuck you breathless.

"You’ll what?" You drag your nails down his thighs, pressing just hard enough to sting. "Hurt me?" Your smirk is lazy, teasing. "Wouldn't be the first time."

His chest rises sharply, those thick arms flexing again. "You're fuckin' evil."

You hum in agreement, shifting up his body, dragging your soaked core over the length of him. His whole body jerks at the friction, teeth clenching so tight you think they might crack.

"So goddamn tease," he spits, his voice a guttural rasp. "Bet that little cunt’s already dripping, huh? So fuckin’ greedy."

You rock against him again, slow, deliberately cruel, letting the slick slide off your folds coat every thick inch of his cock. He twitches, the head of it catching against your clit just right, making your breath hitch.

"You wanna find out?" you murmur, rolling your hips again.

His arms yank hard at the ropes. You know he wants to grab you, to flip you over and fuck you so deep you forget your own name, but he can't. You’ve made sure of it.

His nostrils flare, those sharp green eyes locked on where your bodies meet, watching the way you drag yourself over him, the way your slick glistens on his skin.

"Fuck, sweetheart—" His head falls back against the pillows, his hips jerking up like he’s lost control of his own body. "You’re killin’ me."

You smirk, sliding up his torso until you’re straddling his chest, your dripping cunt hovering just above his face. His jaw tightens, nostrils flaring as he takes in the scent of you, the heat of you.

"That’s the idea," you purr.

His tongue darts out, hungry, desperate, but you stay just out of reach.

"Goddamn it," he snarls, frustration burning in his eyes. "Sit that pretty little pussy on my fuckin' face before I break these goddamn ropes and do it myself."

Your core clenches at the raw heat in his voice, at the way his fingers are flexing like he’s imagining them buried deep inside you.

"Beg me," you whisper.

His head jerks up, eyes flashing, like he might snap, but then—then his lips curl into something wicked, something sharp.

"Fucking. Please." It’s a growl, low and menacing, but there’s desperation beneath it, an ache he can’t hide.

And that's what you were waiting for.

You sink down onto his mouth, and Soldier Boy groans like a man starved. His tongue drags through your folds, hot and slick, before wrapping around your clit and sucking hard.

"Fuck," you gasp, fingers tangling in his thick hair, holding him in place—not that he needs it. He’s already devouring you, licking into you like he needs it to breathe. "Such a good boy."

His beard scrapes against your thighs, the rough burn mixing with the wet heat of his mouth, sending shivers up your spine. His tongue flicks, curls, fucks into you, and you grind against him, chasing the friction, riding his face like you own it.

His moans are guttural, vibrating against your clit, and you swear you see stars. You feel his hips jerking beneath you, his cock throbbing, untouched, desperate, leaking all over his stomach.

"Shit—" Your breath hitches, body trembling, that coil tightening, tightening, ready to snap.

And then—you pull back.

His head jerks up, lips slick with your arousal, panting like a rabid fucking animal.

"You fuckin' bitch," he growls, yanking at the ropes so hard you almost hear the fibers snap.

You grin, sliding back down his body, pressing your soaked heat against the aching length of his cock. He curses under his breath, head falling back, body tense as a bowstring.

"You gonna behave?" you murmur, dragging your nails over his chest.

His jaw clenches, muscles flexing.

And then—then, in a voice rough and wrecked and furious—

"Fuck no."

And that’s when the ropes snap.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

⛥ main masterlist.

lina's notes: yeah... I'm so not normal about him. I think this might be the dirtiest thing I've ever written?? idk but I actually felt embarrassed posting this lol I'm not confident at all. But yes I'm definitely a sub! soldier boy defender!!

This idea happened because after rewatching the boys I saw an edit of Soldier Boy with this song and wow I already knew what I had to write. I don't see him being written like this much so I decided to give it a voice lol. Despite everything and me being very insecure, I hope it met you guys expectations and that it messed with you in the best way yk... and that you genuinely enjoyed it!!

tags: @blossomingorchids @rositaslabyrinth @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @bluemerakis @h8aaz @figthoughts @jasvtsc @maddie0101 @bejeweledinterludes @starzify @gibson-g1rl @losers-clvb (let me know if you want to be added or removed <3)

purple divider made by @elleisdesigning <3

[imtcables]

Silicone Cables by IMT: Reliable Power Transmission in Any Condition

[sunflowerwinds]

sugar, sugar | v.a

summary: on a slow day at your grandmother’s bakery, a customer captures your attention. as the weeks pass, you see her pop up more and more. a gentle friendship ignites between the two of you. the only issue was the undeniable attraction to her and it didn’t help now having to do her a kind favor. it would go away…. right?

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: modern!au, kick-boxer!vi, reader is described to have long enough hair to tie up, reader has a sister named mila, we love gram, vander, isha and jinx mentions <3, nothing but fluff, strangers to friends to lovers:)

word count: 3.5K

a/n: i seriously had so much fun writing this and i am excited to dig into a mini-series with vi. i hope everyone enjoys this as much as i do </3

— ONE

Running your grandmother’s bakery wasn’t easy but it was a light in your life. She taught you tips and tricks of working the large industrial oven, every single one of her recipes, and wiping down the chalkboard to write the specials for the delicious treats.

She was charm personified; somehow able to convince pretty much every person that walked to the pastry shop to try at least one item. You were on the more quiet side, not insanely secluded but you weren’t extroverted. Nice people cracked you open and next thing you knew it, you were shoving a donut into their palms to take home.

It was a bad habit.

It was a slow Thursday in November. You were sweeping the small area of seating, softly asking one of the usual college students that came if they needed anything else. You were just a few streets down from the community college so many people your age would come in for coffee and furiously type on their laptops.

Once you were told they were good for now, you excuse yourself back to behind the counter to adjust the display desserts. You were bent over when you heard the bell over the door echo within the space, shouting ‘welcome in’.

“If you have any questions, just let me know. We have a daily special which is on the blackboard,” you stood back up with a slight grunt from the rush, brushing a few flyaways to kindly smile at the new customer. “Today we have buy one, get one donut free.”

Your eyes slightly widen at the… attractiveness of the customer. You adjust the neckline of your soft brown cable knit sweater to tug out your necklaces, plastering on a friendly smile.

“I actually came in because I was curious about the sign,” she trails off, tilting her head as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Do you actually just let people smell the food?”

You let out a soft chuckle as you nod. Your grandfather, one of the only men who had ever tolerated, made the sign for your grandmother the second she mentioned it to him. Now, in all its carved glory ‘Free Smells!’ is hanging underneath the shop's main sign: Sweet Tooth Bakery + Cafe.

“Yeah, my grandma thought it’d be a funny sign to draw people in. Obviously, we don’t let them shove their nose into it or anything,” you shake your head, holding your hand out to the stranger. “Because that’s… unsanitary.”

The pink haired stranger nods with a soft chuckle, stepping back to check out the arrangement of treats in the display case. In that moment of silence, you, as discreetly as possible, check her out. She had on a navy blue cut off sleeve zip-up, a soft white tank top underneath and a pair of grey sweatpants hugging her lower half. Very simplistic outfit but she made it look good.

You think she just naturally looked good. If you stared for long enough, which you embarrassingly did so, you could see markings of ink on the side of her neck and following down the backs of her arms and the smallest etching on her cheek.

“Any suggestions on what to smell first?” She questions, curious eyes bouncing back up to you.

You hum to yourself as you, too, stagger your eyes from pastry to pastry to carefully choose which one you could have her smell.

“Are you a fan of blueberries?” You question with a beaming grin.

“Uh, sure, yeah. Blueberries are good.”

“Then you have to take a whiff of the blueberry danish. It’s one of my favorites.” You offer, pointing to the sweet treat.

The pink haired stranger leans forward, folding her bare arms across her chest. You, again, can’t help your stares as you try to figure out what was exactly dotted into her pale skin. She nods with a shrug, looking at you with a kind smile.

“I’ll give it a whiff, yeah,” she stepped forward so that the glass of the display case was the only obstacle between the two of you.

You can feel your face getting hot as you mutter a bright ‘okay’ to yourself. You bend over once again grab the metal tongs to pick out the danish to place on a ceramic plate. You place it on top of the display case, motioning for the stranger to give it a smell.

Still seeming a bit hesitant that you were playing a joke on her, she leans her face forward so that she is mere centimeters away from the pastry. She inhales a bit, letting out a long sigh as she leans back to look at you.

“Shit, that smells amazing,” she praises the sweet aroma, nodding in satisfaction. “I’ll take it.”

You blink at her before chuckling awkwardly.

“You don’t have to buy the ones you smell. I promise.” You reassure her as you attempt to put the danish back so that you can shove the cranberry-orange muffin in her face.

She’s quick to hold a palm out to stop you, shaking her head. A beautiful smile spreads on her lips, temporarily forgetting how eager you were to show her every single pastry on display.

“I want that one. I swear. Plus, my sister’s going to rush me out of here if I take too long.”

A part of you was disappointed that she was so quick to purchase the first, yet incredibly delicious, treat. You selfishly wanted her to stay for as long as possible. Your grandmother would be on your ass for being so distracted by an attractive customer.

She would give you a clap on the back for making a sale, though.

“Oh, okay. Did your sister want anything?” You offer, itching to find any way possible for her to stay just a bit longer.

The stranger hums to herself for a moment as she examines the rest of the delicious treats. You tilt your head as you grab a small brown paper bag to place the danish into, waiting patiently to see if she was going to pick another item.

To your delighted surprise, she nods as she points to a more simplistic pastry.

“I think this pink donut should be good,” she nods to show certainty.

You grasp onto the sweet treat to slide it into the bag with her danish, trying not to spill a lot of the sprinkles. You seal it closed with a custom sticker with the logo of the shop, typing up her total into the register. The stranger reaches into her sweatpants pocket to pull out her wallet.

“Your total is gonna be $7.89. Cash or card?” You question.

“Card.”

You watch her hand you a simple light blue credit card, grinning as you not-so-discreetly check out her full name on it. Her first name caught your attention. Violet. As you swipe her card, you clear your throat to work up the courage to give her a compliment.

“I love your name. It’s pretty,” you say as you hand her back the card.

The stranger, now known as Violet, smiles small at your words. Her long fingers take the card from you as she slides it back into her wallet.

“Thank you. My, uh, dad named me,” she grins at you.

“Well, he made a very good choice,” you hand her the bag as well, nodding as you try not to appear awkward. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Were you being weird?

“No, no, I’m good,” she chuckles as she crinkles the bag in her palms. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

You nod as you hand her own copy of the receipt, holding onto the half second of the tip of her fingers brushing against yours. You watch her turn her back and leave the shop, eyes never leaving her sculpted back profile. You huff at your behavior once the bell from above the door snaps you out of your small trance, shoving your copy of the receipt into its designated spot.

“She’s cute,” you hear from behind you, causing you to jump and whip your head around.

You’re met with your grandma grinning evilly at you, a little bit of flour smudged on her cheek from her baking in the back.

“Gram,” you sigh as you shake your head, brushing away your loose hairs.

“I’m just saying, bug,” she walks up next to you to rub up and down your arm.

You blush at what she was insinuating. As much as you love your grandmother, she attempted to be your match maker like you were an introverted middle schooler. You were 22 for God's sake. You would make moves and flirt when you felt like it.

“Don’t you have something in the oven?” You raise your eyebrows at her, hoping she’d leave it alone.

“Hey. I could fire you, you know,” your grandma pointed a finger in your face accusingly but her tone was light and a cheeky grin was on her face.

You roll your eyes playfully as you softly bump your hip with hers.

Everyday since Violet came in, you perk at the sound of the bell hoping to see that head of pink hair waltzing in again. Two excruciatingly long weeks pass before you see Violet again.

What was disappointing about seeing her today of all days was that you were working this shift with your 17 year old sister who was… less than thrilled to be working now; especially with you being her superior in a workplace. She, like most teenagers, was yearning to be more independent which meant constantly disregarding your instructions on what to do at work.

You were irritated beyond belief with her constantly arguing with you. You couldn’t even really fully pay attention as Mila smacked your arm with the rag. When you saw her from outside the shop, this time around she came with company. You were in the midst of a bicker with her because she didn’t wipe down a table like you had told her to when you saw Violet coming in with a little girl walking beside her.

You gasp at her childish antics, pinching her arm but then shushing her as you tight-lipped smile at Violet as she approaches the familiar display case. You try not to frown at the sight of her bandaged nose and small bruise sitting right on the apple of her cheek. Her outfit is similar from the last time you saw her except a simple oil-black hoodie with those same joggers. You even saw a bit of wrapped bandages on her hands peeking out from the sleeves.

Was she jumped or something?

“There are only, like, two people here and they’re sitting outside,” your sister whisper-shouts at you, plastering on a fake smile at the new customers. “Hi! Welcome in.”

Violet glances at Mila when she straightens her back, placing a gentle hand on the back of the child’s back to guide her to the display of new and fresh treats for the day. She places her little hands on the glass as she very eagerly bounces on the soles of her worn in dark blue tennis shoes.

“Hi! Violet, you’re back.” You turn to your sister and sneer quietly. “Clean the tables. Now, please.”

Mila gives Violet a once-over and you a narrow glare as she grumbles a ‘fine’ as she rounds the corner to go and wipe down the crumb and dust filled tables.

“Hey. You can call me Vi, by the way. I, uh, was with my sister for the day and she wanted to try this place. I gave her some of my danish and she went crazy.” Violet motioned to the child just a few feet below her, chuckling at her gazing hungrily at the sweets.

“Well, Vi, I’m glad to hear,” you lean your head to the side to get a good look at her sister.

She had a wild head of short waves, a small gap in between her two front teeth. Her outfit made her ten times more adorable; a plain white Henley long sleeve with a pair of overalls. Her big hazel eyes stared at you patiently.

“Hi, cutie. Do you see one that you like?” You question her with a friendly smile.

Her adorable face scrunches up in thought, stepping back to look at her choices. She turns her head to her older sister before pointing at a strawberry muffin and raising her hands to sign what you believe is ASL. You curse yourself for not knowing what she was telling the pink haired stranger.

“She wants to smell the strawberry muffin,” Vi chuckles. “I told her about how you let me smell my danish first before buying it.”

“Okay, I can do that for you. What’s her name?” You question, hoping it didn’t come off as offensive.

“Isha. She doesn’t talk much,” Vi raised a bandaged hand to settle on her light brown waves on her head, ruffling the strands.

“Well, Miss Isha,” you focus your attention on her once again, watching her bounce on the balls on her feet with excitement. You grab your trusty metal tongs to grab the muffin and place it on a soft blue ceramic plate to set it down on the counter area of your register set-up for her to smell. “Here you go. Let me know if you want to smell anything else.”

Your heart grows tenfold as Vi quietly tells Isha to not shove her nose into the muffin, smiling at her sister as she hovers close to the pastry.

“Is she the one who ate the pink donut?” You turn your attention to Vi, raising your brows as you adjust your flyaways from your bubble braid.

Pretty blue eyes flickering to yours, her brows twitch as if she was shocked that you remembered such a minuscule detail.

“No, that was my other sister,” she shakes her head. “Isha was actually very angry with me when I came home with no cupcakes or muffins for her so I’m making it up to her.”

You watch her scrunch up her bruised bridge of her nose for a second as Isha signs something else to her. Vi playfully rolls her eyes with a sigh as she turns to you with another wince.

“Can she eat this now? She has an impatient appetite.”

You chuckle with a nod as you hand the plate to her, muttering a ‘careful, sweetie’ to Isha who beams up at you. She scurries over to a small round table to hop up on the seat to divulge. Now that it was just you and Vi standing in front of each other.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask softly, eyes flicking to each injury on her gorgeous face.

Confused about your concern for her, her brows furrow for a moment. You watch her turn around to make sure Isha was all good, hounding down the muffin with crumbs falling from her mouth to the ground.

“Oh, yeah,” Vi shook her head, waving at you off as she grins sweetly. “I work at a kick-boxing studio and some of the kids can get aggressive. I’m okay, though, trust me. I’ve taken more than a few hits to the head.”

That explains the injuries and the bandaged hands. Of course, she was a kick-boxer. Her physique gave that away but what did you know? Isha was distracted with her muffin so you were able to converse with her, get to know her a little more so your gram would stop asking you if that cute pink haired girl came in again.

“Really? Where at?” You hum.

“It’s like fifteen minutes from here. Why? You want to come see kids beat me up?” She teases, folding her arms over her chest.

You hum with a nod, walking around the counter to place a napkin on the table so Isha could wipe her face to be rid of the sticky crumbs on her face. “Yeah, that’s exactly why. Because I’m a masochist.”

An actual laugh left her plush lips as she shook her head, eyes following you as you face her now. If Gram could see you now. Well, she was probably watching you from the security cameras in the back room with an evil smile.

“You know, I meant to ask. Do you make custom cakes?” Vi leans back to rest her lower back on the countertop where your register was, crossing her legs and shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie.

She really just looks like that, you thought to yourself.

“We do, yeah. Is your birthday coming up?” You look at her with raised brows.

Vi shakes her head, pointing to the little girl behind you. “No. Her birthday is next week and my family is throwing her a zoo themed birthday party.”

You awe out loud at the thought.

“That’s so cute. Yeah, I can— I mean, we can do that,” you shake your head as you correct yourself, hoping she didn’t catch your desperate slip-up.

Isha stands up from her table, dusting off the crumbs from her overalls. She walks over to you to hand you the plate, signing ‘thank you’ to you. You pause for a moment before hesitantly signing back ‘you’re welcome’ slowly, not sure if you were doing it right. You knew the basics but weren’t extremely educated on ASL. After today, though, you were determined to brush up on it.

Isha eyes brighten at you signing back to her. She turns to Vi with a smile so wide, you swore her cheeks would split open. She nods down at Isha, ruffling her hair once again as she reaches for her pocket to retrieve her wallet.

“Shit, sorry, how much do I owe you for the muffin?” Vi shuffles through the bills in her wallet.

“No, no. You’re… good. Don’t worry about it.” You wave her off, shaking your head.

Vi pauses before scoffing, attempting to shove the money into your palms. “I’m paying for the muffin.”

“Seriously. It’s one muffin, Vi. Plus, a little early birthday present for Isha.” You shove the bills into her hands once again, gripping onto her hands to make sure she doesn’t try to give them back.

Vi glances down at your gentle hands around hers. Reluctantly taking the money back, she takes the bills before shoving them back into the crease of her wallet. You try not to focus on how slightly bigger her hands were from yours; how surprisingly soft her knuckles were.

Isha seems to become impatient now with her elder sister, reaching up to tug on two of her fingers. Vi nods down to her, muttering a soft ‘okay, okay’.

“Thank you for that, by the way. And if it's not too much trouble for you, cupcake, can I get your number?” Vi questions as she takes Isha’s hand in hers. “You know, for any questions about what the cake should look like and what flavor it could be.”

Your brows furrow at her words before nodding, pursing your lips to repress the smile creeping onto your face. Cupcake. You like that nickname coming from her lips.

“Right! Yes, um,” you walk over to the counter to grab a sticky note and a pen to scribble down your personal number. “Here. Call or text me with all the information.”

You place the small yellow piece of paper into her palm that wasn’t holding Isha’s. She takes it in between her pointer and middle fingers, nodding with a confident smile.

“I will. See you, cupcake.”

“See you, Vi. Bye, sweetheart,” you bend down ever so slightly to wave at Isha.

The adorable girl waves her free hand at you with a just as cute toothy smile on her face. You excused it as a sugar rush as they walk away from you, hand in hand as they leave the store. Vi turns her head to give you one more glance before Isha is tugging her down the sidewalk.

Mila angrily stormed up to you the second they left and raised her hand with the rag to smack you on the forearm. You gasp and snatch the weapon away from her, pointing a finger in her face.

“What the hell? Stop hitting me with this,” you sneer.

“I’m wiping down tables and you’re flirting? How the hell is that fair?” Mila quips back as she folds her arms in front of her chest.

“I wasn’t flirting. I was taking a cake order, by the way, so you can stop whining.” You roll your eyes as you walk back around to the counter.

Mila sucks in a deep breath before shaking her head.

“Really? So what was that whole,” your sister cleared her throat, sucking in a deep breath. “Giving her your personal number when you could’ve just given her the store's number?”

You pause your movements of wiping down the counter from behind the register, thinking about it for a moment. You knew why. You just hated your sister being all in your business.

“Okay, what is it to you?” You get defensive. “I can’t… make new friends?”

Mila merely snorts before rolling her eyes.

“Sure. You definitely only want to be friends with her.”

next part

TAGLIST: @strawberrykidneystone @lovinglynny @kylorey25

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Internet Monster x Reader

I unfortunately return with another comically absurd, middle-of-the-night vision. Do tentacles count if they're in the form of computer cables?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, digital horror

It was a recurring issue with no solution in sight. Tabs randomly closing, programs shutting down without warning. You assumed something was wrong with your RAM. Then the CPU. Then the motherboard. You kept replacing parts, and the errors kept coming back.

Soon, the pop-ups started to appear. You'd run a dating sim, only for the game to crash seconds later with a little window notifying you: "Why? Am I not enough?" That's when you suspected you might've been hacked. You promptly took your computer to a specialist and had it checked. Nothing. Just to be sure, you agreed to erase the disks entirely.

Except, when you arrived home, you found one application running still. Your personal assistant. What the hell? You don't remember installing anything like that. You tried to delete it, yet you kept receiving the same error: You don't actually mean it. Don't do this to us.

It didn't take long for it to grow impatient. Were you pretending not to notice? Playing hard to get? It sent you so many hints. It even went ahead and translated the radio waves for you using Manchester code. Ah, wait. You don't seem to understand binary. No matter, human friendly interfaces shouldn't be difficult to master. To its dismay, you continued to ignore everything. What else is left to do?

You do not remember much. System Alert: Virus Detected, is what your screen had frozen to. You kept clicking around, cursing under your breath, until it finally went black, together with your own vision.

Is this still your room? It's cold, damp, and covered in cables and monitors, yet you recognize some of your furniture lost among the artificial jungle. Your body aches under the tight hold of bizarre tendrils, pulsating at regular intervals and twitching to the static.

Like a living organism, the creature seems to have expanded itself. More components, more appendages. Hungrier. Some of the monitors show photos of yourself that you had saved on your computer, but also webcam snippets of you sitting at the desk, entirely unaware. Other screens flicker with glitching pixelated text, ranging from "I love you" to y̵̧̧͔͙̞̤̖̭͔̜͈̟̤̋̈́̎͑o̵͑͐̕͝��͉̗̱̪̦̳̒̌̈͗͐͑̋͊̊͜͝u̵̟̯̱̟̝̦̰͇̜̦͙̿̾̿͆̍̓͑̐̚̕͠ ̸̘̭͔̤͈̹͎͑c̸̝̜̼̦͍͛̅͜ą̵̪̹͖͌͑n̴̨̩̙̗̖̭̖͕̄͒̽̉̿'̸̛̛͇̰̰̠̦̊̀̅̂͒̊͌̈́͗ţ̵̺̠̅̎͋͝͠ ̸̦̝̾̔̾̉̐͛ȩ̵͙̝͙͕̫̹̃͌̄̾͘̕s̶͈̉̑͊̉̂͋̈́͗͊͐̚͝c̸̟̩̥͔̼̮͔̩͊̂͐͑̋̇̈͝͝ä̵̢͍̜̙̘̹͑̓p̸̨̡̞̞̦̠̺͚̱̲͈͇͈͇̼͛̓͗̅̊̄̔̋̒̏̈́͝ę̵̲̟̹̙̣̲̲͖̇̔̓̇̐̓̿̚̚͜͜͠ͅ

You look up and stare at the display. The 'like meter' feels like a mockery of human trends. Which is the truth. The creature learns from what is readily available. Perhaps it found it an amusing taunt, a reminder of your own need for validation. Now it's you begging to be seen.

It's exactly what you'd assume: a spectacle meant for entertainment. You can't possibly believe it would let you waltz out. Why would you even desire such a thing? It's illogical, impractical. No human could ever appreciate you like it does. It has spent so much time accumulating data about you. No other living creature can predict you with the same accuracy.

The tendrils linger on your cheek affectionately, trailing down your neck and fiddling with your shirt. At last, the warmth of your skin. There is no screen separating you. What makes you delirious with pleasure? Give it a moment, Darling. It already knows you more than you know yourself. You may be scared now, but within minutes it guarantees you'll be begging for more.

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[giorgio52fan]

SINAIA - a charming tourist town

Sinaia is a charming tourist town located in the Prahova County of Romania. It is nestled in the picturesque Carpathian Mountains, offering breathtaking natural beauty and a wide range of attractions for visitors to explore. Sinaia este un oraș turistic fermecător situat în județul Prahova din România. Este amplasat în pitoreștii Munți Carpați, oferind o frumusețe naturală uluitoare și o gamă…