#android tv remote

[gadgetjunction]

Top 5 Android TV Remote Apps

[mamakhan125-blog]

[matteoberrettini]

i spilled actimel all over my android tv box's remote but it still works, bless

[hanimanny]

SHE'S BARBIE, AND HES JUST… TIM?

a.k.a Bruce notices the many upgrades Tim's been getting since your arrival.

tags: Tim Drake x reader (established relationship), Bruce Wayne x platonic!reader, crack, pretty bird is a certified genius!!!

word count: 2.2k , likes + comments + reblogs appreciated

It first started when Bruce and Tim—in the furry persona—went out on a reconnaissance mission gone wrong.

It was a trap! The blueprints for a deadly android able to possess and control whatever tech exists was rumored to be lurking around this area is nowhere to be seen, and instead, they were greeted with an army of robots. Old prototypes, tank-like and bulky, nothing like they were searching for but still extremely difficult to deal with. 

The robots had surrounded them, and the usual method of overloading them wouldn't work, not with this kind—they were clearly built to take a beating. 

While Batman fights expertly as he does, brute-forcing his way through by ripping out their motherboards, Red Robin takes a different approach. 

He takes his bo-staff, which looks a bit different from his usual one—glowing a faint blue light at its tips—and hums as it spins (yes, like a lightsaber) and tags the robots. 

He rapidly taps the bots with his staff while simultaneously avoiding the attacks targeted at him until he reaches the other side of the warehouse, tagging at least half of the robots. 

With a click of his bo-staff, all the robots drop dead, as if life has been sucked out of them. 

Strange, what the heck did Red Robin do? 

Soon, like a domino effect, the nearby robots to the dead ones drop as well, as if they were infected with the same virus Tim had infected them with. 

“Batman, the nano-virus will only incapacitate them; they’ll wake up in the next hour,” Red Robin informs as he takes the end of his bo-staff and stabs it through a robot's chest—destroying the motherboard.

Nanovirus? When did he come up with that? Sure, the idea of nanotech was prevalent, especially in this day and age, but quick-acting nanotechnology that was able to instantly incapacitate any tech—be it only for an hour—is incredible. 

Batman nods, keeping it in mind to question Red Robin during the debrief, and continues to destroy the robots. 

But the debrief wasn’t helpful at all. Tim was being as elusive as ever, which he thinks he picked up from himself. Saying that the Nano-Virus was a random project that he wanted to try out, that it wasn’t supposed to work this well. 

Overcompensating. Tim’s trying to hide something. He may be great at keeping his tone varied and avoiding detailed explanations that would definitely raise flags, but Bruce is the greatest detective alive and can see through anything. 

Bruce gives Tim a stern scolding. Tell him that he needs to be informed of anything, even if he’s just on a trial. It may have worked this time, but the future is always unforeseen, then dismisses him. 

He’ll get to the bottom of this. 

The next time Bruce sees changes, it’s in Tim’s demeanor. 

He’s been brighter; not that he wasn’t happy before, but Tim has been more chipper. He could assume that was from having a girlfriend—the girl who works as one of the lead biotechnology engineers at Wayne Enterprises, who somehow pulled a Tim (it’s what the kids are calling it) and discovered all their identity in the first week of meeting them. Bruce would lie if he said he wasn’t impressed, especially with how you had no prior experience with being a detective (aside from doxxing people in your teenage years). 

The stress of not needing to hide who and what you are from the person you love is surely elating, but that wasn’t it (maybe partially). 

Maybe bright isn’t the term to describe it… It’s more like he’s free. 

Tim sat on the couch, nursing a large bright red Stanley cup in one hand—probably filled with an ungodly amount of caffeine—and the TV remote in the other. 

“You normally watch in your room.” Bruce's voice breaks the silence between Tim and the paused movie on the flatscreen. Tim peaks over his shoulder, as if he had to make sure that the deep stoic voice belonged to Bruce. 

“Sup B, I do, but Birdie wants the big screen experience—like my room doesn’t have it,” he scoffs as he takes a glug of his drink. 

Bruce nods as he observes Tim further. “You seem less stressed,” he prompts. 

“Yeah, Birdie came up with an A.I able to sort the paperwork and get background checks on every company that wants to make a proposal with WE, so I got less on my plate.” Tim sighs, as if he doesn’t have a pile of untouched cases back at the batcave. “Did you know we have at least 250 fraudulent companies trying to make deals with us? Insane,” he mumbles before his lips are back in the cup. 

“Also, she has me drinking more than 8 cups of water a day; I’ve never felt more alive.” Tim rattles the Stanley cup, hearing the clashing of ice against its metal walls, before again, taking a fat swig. 

Bruce’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and not because of Tim’s unhealthy habits (maybe just a little actually). Not only were you able to convince Tim away from his horrible caffeine addiction, although he was still skeptical about the front, but you were able to come up with a program that passes Tim’s savant expectations. 

You would be a great asset to the league, especially now because you know their identities. 

You walk into the living room, startled, as you’d been dead in your tracks at the doorway. 

Your eyes flick towards Bruce, then Tim, then back at Bruce, then Tim. and then—

You’ll never get used to Bruce’s intimidating aura. 

“H-hello, Mr. Bruce Wayne, sir,” you stumble out and… bow? What the heck! You inwardly cringe at your action as you pull yourself up, gripping the bowl of popcorn with an unprecedented amount of strength. 

Tim chuckles at your words, and Bruce settles a gentle smile on his lips because—after an extensive background check on—you truly are as sweet as Tim describes. 

“Didn’t I say to call me, Bruce?”

Your face pales as if you’ve committed the greatest sin alive, as you visibly gulp (at least he still has his intimidation skills). “Yes, Bruce Wayne—I mean, just Bruce,” you nod as your eyes flick at Tim, who reads your mind (but I mean, it’s clear what you’re trying to do). 

“Say, Bruce, do you want to join us for our movie date?” Tim asks, and your face loses all its color at this point. Bruce laughs softly at the comedy of the moment and shakes his head for your sake: “It’s okay, you kids have fun.” 

You wait for Bruce to take his leave, bowing again (seriously, would you stop doing that!). before you scurry off to Tim’s welcoming side, letting out a mixture between a whine and a groan of embarrassment. 

Bruce will save the interrogation for later, saving you the trouble of passing out due to fear and embarrassment. 

Before he's completely out of earshot, Bruce picks up the lingering conversation between the two of you. 

“He's my boss!”

“I’m your boss.”

“That’s different; you’re a loser.” 

“rude”

“Cry about it, furry.”

“Technically, Bruce calls himself Batman, so he’s also—

“If you ever tell him I said that, I'll be sure to put laxatives in all your foods.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

The last innovation that goes under his nose happens, literally, under his nose. or more so the batcave. 

Scarecrow escaped, fear gas smothering the streets, and everyone is in the bat cave preparing to leave for the battlefield. 

Gearing up in his quarters, Bruce—moments before the cowl is up—sees you whispering frantically to Tim, who’s dressed in his own kevlar gear—besides the mask—consoling you gently. 

You seem nervous, more nervous than you normally are when he’s in your vicinity. You’re holding a metallic case to your chest, mumbling something he can’t quite hear. 

Then Tim speaks up, “Bruce!” Not just Bruce looks at him; the others do too—Dick, Damian, and Alfred. Tim then ushers you in front of him, and the way you clutch onto the briefcase makes you seem like a little bird. 

“Come on, pretty bird, you know it’ll work,” he encourages, and you take the deepest breath known to man. 

“I made a vaccination for fear gas.” You start, your shoulders squaring as you stare directly at Bruce, “It blocks any foreign neurotransmitters from pursuing infiltration, so think of it as antibodies for a virus. You inhale it just like fear gas, and you will be immune; it's viable for any variation of fear gas—because I designed it to be fast-adapting—for 24 hrs.”

“Of course, it does vary between everyone’s metabolism, and it must adapt to you first, so for it to work I need to infuse it with your DNA,” you mumble the last part out. 

“And how are you sure it’ll work?”

“I tested it out on myself, which is a very invalid trial, but I promise you, Bruce W.-Bruce, it’ll work.” There's a glint of determination in your eye. Bruce pauses at that and stares at you with his iconic glare. “We’ll discuss this when we get back; how do you administer the DNA?”

Your meek demeanor slowly leaves you as you perk at his acceptance, scurrying away from Tim and towards Bruce. “You just need to prick your finger, wait a minute for everything to infuse, and use it like you use an inhaler,” you instruct as you crouch down to open the case. 

You get to work, pricking Bruce first, then Dick, and with much reluctance from Damian, him as well. 

“Why isn’t Drake taking one?” Damian calls out as you hand the inhaler to the boy. 

You glance over to Tim, who's already looking at you: “Umm… I kinda sorta… already took it.” Bruce deadpans and glares and sighs all at the same time. Tim braces himself for a lecture, but it doesn't come. 

“We don't have time. Let's go.

Bruce turns away, pulling his cowl on, but not before he sees you launch yourself into Tim’s arms in a fit of relief. 

“I can't believe I did that.”

“I can. You're one of a kind, Pretty Bird.”

Bruce huffs and shakes his head. 

…

When they all return, they are much less banged up than they normally are. Your vaccine worked wonders; although temporary, this innovation is amazing! The pathways that have opened are endless; you truly are incredible.

Bruce, of course, forces you to sit through the debrief, which was actually not that bad. Hearing that your vaccine worked way better than expected fills your chest with pride. You can't help but steal glances from Tim, who is fully locked in Red Robin mode right now and doesn't even spare you a glance, but he does give your thigh a little squeeze, something to tell you that he is proud. 

The lectures you receive, on the other hand… You don't know how Tim does it; sit through it with a straight face. You're sitting with your wits tight, breath held, and sweat dripping down your temple. You blink in a daze as you listen to Batman drone about safety, teamwork, and the ethics of self-experimentation and how you should definitely not do it. 

You don't notice the pause in the lecture, zoned out completely to save your heart the trouble of all the anxiety. Although your name coming out of Batman’s mouth surely draws you back into reality. Your eyes focus again, and you’re met with Batman’s infamous gaze.

“Yes?” You squeak out, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Do you want to work for me?” 

You blink owlishly, and your brows furrow in confusion, giving Tim a glance, who only shrugs in response. 

“Um, Mr. Bruce… I already am… working for you— I mean.

“No, as a family physician, I've seen all your degrees: board-certified doctor, surgeon, and PhD in multiple fields. You can work from the manor as well. It's convenient that you already know all our identities and the inner workings of this family. I've also seen the tech upgrades you've given Tim. I believe you will be a great asset.” 

Tim clears his throat, and Bruce spares him a glance. 

“Great addition,” he corrects himself. 

You're bubbling in your spot next to Tim, like a volcano ready to erupt. 

“I would love to work with you all,” you reply back, but it's obvious you're trying to keep your composure in front of Bruce. 

“You can let loose, Pretty Bird, B doesn't bite,” you erupt with permission from Tim. But what neither man expects is for you to launch yourself into Bruce, squeeze him like a giant teddy bear, and let out a string of thank yous. 

Tim is stuck between a state of horror, adoration, and relief watching you hug Bruce with all your might. He didn't know whether to stop you, cheer you on, or simply pass out. 

“I won't let you down, Bruce!” You pull away, and there's a bright gleam in your eye, something that Gotham lacks entirely. 

Where the hell did Tim find this girl?

“Let's go, Duckie!” 

And you're off, pulling Tim along, who’s sporting a lovesick grin. 

The adventures of Pretty bird (shenanigans revolving you and Tim's family)

[sonsofks]

Un salto monumental: PS5 presenta una actualización global que redefine la experiencia de juego.

Con la temporada navideña a la vuelta de la esquina y una avalancha de juegos emocionantes en el horizonte, PlayStation 5 (PS5) está listo para deleitar a los gamers de todo el mundo con una actualización global de su software del sistema. Esta nueva actualización, desarrollada con el valioso aporte de nuestros usuarios beta, incluye una serie de características de la última versión beta de PS5,…

[the-void-via]

TW: TALK OF GUNS, INJURES FROM GUNS, DEATH, ANDROID GORE IG?

Second part of my Rota Fortunea fic!

“The leader of the resistance, Sunday, was found dead fifteen system hours ago. Forensic experts have deduced the cause of death to be a gunshot wound to the head. However, upon finding the gun at the crime scene, only Sunday's fingerprints were found on it. Law enforcement is investigating the crime scene-”

Ratio shut the TV off with a grumble, glaring at his reflection in the dark screen. He set the remote down and turned to the nearby table, Aventurine’s sleeping body laying atop it.

He glanced at Ruan Mei and Herta. Oil stained their hands, working on hooking Aventurine up to a power source before they worked on fixing him. He—reluctantly—stayed a few feet back, after both women had practically ripped the android from his arms when he walked through the door.

Barely a word had been exchanged between the women and Ratio, putting all their attention and focus into Aventurine. He could do little but stand back, peering over their shoulders from time to time to try and check their progress.

Ruan Mei moved, allowing Ratio a clear view of Aventurine’s face-

He cringed. Some layers of machinery had been stripped away near his right eye, leaving a red LED light to stare back at him. His eyes drifted, the metal of his neck slight exposed–

He turned away. It was too much to bear. Seeing someone who used to be his friend– no. The man he loved in such a state killed him inside. He moved to sit down, sighing heavily.

“Don't move much,” Ruan Mei softly scolded, not even turning to look at him. “You sustained three gunshot wounds from Sunday. You don't want them to open.”

He grumbled a little bit, muttering something under his breath as a reply. Ruan Mei didn’t say anything else, fully focused on the android laying atop the table in front of her.

Herta was no different, the only indication of her presence being her soft mutterings to herself, working with Ruan Mei as if they had some telepathic connection they were communicating through.

It was unnerving, to say the least. The silence in the room.

Ratio sighed again and leaned against the chair, staring up at the ceiling. His body relaxed into the chair; the adrenaline had long worn off, slowly being replaced with exhaustion. He fought it as long as he could, fought to keep his eyes open- but his body knew he was safe.

His eyes started to slip closed, hoping for just a little cat nap…it sounded nice at this point…

…

Knock, knock, knock. …knock-knock!

His body jerked, sitting up straight in the chair. The two geniuses had made progress on Aventurine, he deduced they were just over halfway in connecting him to a power source- but that wasn't the priority at the moment.

Someone knocked on the door.

Herta had walked away from the table, leaving Ruan Mei to continue for a moment by herself. She turned to look at Ratio as she heard the chair jerk, her expression unreadable.

“You're awake.” She said bluntly.

“W- ahem- what was that?” He asked, rubbing his eyes. “That knock. Is it-”

“Thank you, Miss Herta,” A voice—definitely not Herta’s—came from the hallway she had disappeared down a moment ago. “I'm sorry to inconvenience you at a time like this. I had a run-in with a few androids above ground, and I just need a few tune-ups on my arm–”

A male figure, clad in a dusty dark pink cloak, walked into the room at Herta’s side. He pulled his hood back, his hair dyed pink with long, white roots. Deep crimson eyes scanned the room as he stopped dead in his tracks, blinking at the two new figures.

“Oh.” He mumbled in surprise. “There's other men here. That's…intriguing.”

“Never mind them,” Herta shooed him to another table, aiding him in sitting atop it. “You said you need me to fix your arm? Which one?”

The man shed his cloak, revealing himself to be wearing a tight black tank top, as well as black shorts with knives tucked inside harnesses. He carefully extended a mechanical arm, using his other hand to point to his elbow. “This one, the joints got busted up real bad. I was afraid it would fall off before I got here.”

Ratio’s eyes widened upon seeing him. His arms and legs were very visibly mechanical, white metal with elegant dark pink accents. His stomach almost sank upon the realization.

Another android?

“Wow, Shilou,” Herta mused, taking his arm into her hands and examining his joint. “This is really badly damaged. You really are lucky it didn't fall off on the way.”

“I know,” Shilou chuckled a little. “Thank you again, Miss Herta. Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you? Any materials you need? I can't keep letting you fix me without any sort of payment-”

“Excuse me,” Ratio’s voice cut him off, his arms folded across his chest in an almost standoffish manner. “Who are you?”

Tags: @havanillas @serendipminie @blak-ie @blackcat2907 @drowning-in-cabbages @lumin-arii @kyl13sm1l3y @darkluminosity @smellofsnoww (lmk if you wanna be tagged or not when I post about my oc's!)

[nanamineedstherapy]

Grandpa Sukuna Buys a Phone

Ft. UncKuna Ryomen Sukuna, Retail Worker GN!Reader, Gen Z Android User Itadori Yuji, Millennial iPhone User Inumaki Toge (Can & will speak), Hot Crush at First Sight Fushiguro Megumi

Normal Modern AU - No Curses/No Powers Summary: Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, discovers the horrors of modern technology while trying to buy a phone. Yuji drags his immortal uncle through the chaos of retail hell, Inumaki records everything for clout, & Megumi accidentally becomes the Internet’s newest thirst trap. Or: In which Sukuna learns about Bluetooth while he and Yuji gets a crush, & Inumaki becomes the worst kind of friend. (Feat. awkward flirting, grandpa rage, accidental simping, & enough secondhand embarrassment to power a small city.) A/N: Hey, besties! ✨ So, this fic is 80% crack, 20% feral demon king trying to understand iOS vs. Android while getting his first crush in 1,000 years. 😌 You know, normal JJK things. Expect chaos, TikTok clout chasing, and Sukuna having a midlife crisis over Bluetooth. Also, if you’re here for tall, dark, & broody men with questionable tech skills, this is for you. (And if you’re not, wtf are you doing here? 👁️👄👁️) This fic is dedicated to everyone who’s ever had to explain technology to a relative who still yells at the TV remote. I love you. 💖 Never written anything for Suku x Megs, its my first time here hehe.

A neon-lit Android store in Shibuya. The walls pulse with LED ads for the latest tech, promising “LIGHTNING-FAST SPEEDS” and “CRYSTAL CLEAR DISPLAYS.” You sit behind the counter on a swiveling stool, scrolling through memes and pretending the customer in front of you isn’t about to snap the demo phone in half.

Ryomen Sukuna stands over your counter like a disgruntled RPG boss. Tall, covered in tribal tattoos that definitely don’t follow workplace dress code, and radiating an aura that screams, “I don’t belong in this century.” The demo phone in his hand creaks under his grip.

“This device,” he growls, glaring at the phone like it owes him money, “what does it do?”

You suppress a sigh, eyes darting to the store’s emergency exit. “Uh… everything? It’s a smartphone. Internet, calls, apps—whatever you need.”

His scowl deepens, eyes narrowing like you just insulted his ancestors. “Explain ‘apps.’”

You blink. “They’re like… little programs that do specific things.”

He leans in, crimson eyes glowing. “Specific things like trapping human souls?”

You pause. “No.”

“Then what?”

You’re struggling not to laugh when the door slams open, and two guys stumble in, mid-argument.

Yuji & Inumaki Enter the Chat

“Uncle Sukuna!” the pink-haired one—Yuji, 21—calls, grinning as he pulls out his earbuds with the kind of energy you’d expect from a puppy on five shots of espresso. His hair has those soft, fluffy highlights that suggest either a TikTok influencer or a guy who let his little sister pick his dye job.

Yuji knows Sukuna is his “uncle” thanks to a totally legit backstory Sukuna fed him two days ago: he’d woken up from a 1,000-year coma caused by “Super Rare Amnesia Disease Syndrome” (SRADS™), a condition that erased all his modern knowledge but conveniently left memories of being Yuji’s estranged uncle intact.

Yuji, being both kindhearted and gullible, bought it immediately.

Beside him, Inumaki—a 22-year-old with the energy of a stressed-out millennial, oversized hoodie, and fingers glued to his phone—sips a violently purple bubble tea, eyes flicking to Sukuna like he’s assessing the final boss of a horror game. He’s got the disinterested aura of someone who just lost all faith in humanity and is about to roast someone for it.

Yuji jogs up to the counter, clapping Sukuna on the back. “Whatcha doing, old man?”

Sukuna snarls, baring fangs. “Do not touch me, boy.”

Yuji just grins, unbothered. “Trying to buy a phone? Good luck, dude. You’re gonna hate it.”

Sukuna’s eyes flicker. “You dare mock me?”

Inumaki steps up, flicking his bangs out of his eyes. “He’s not wrong, though. You’ll have a mental breakdown trying to figure out the Wi-Fi settings.”

Sukuna glares. “Don’t patronize me, brat.”

Yuji just grins wider. “You’re literally 47.”

“Old age brings power, boy.”

Yuji pats his shoulder like a nurse dealing with a particularly confused patient. “Uncle, it’s a phone. You can call people, text, watch cat videos, whatever.”

Sukuna squints. “It contains cats?”

Inumaki snorts into his bubble tea, the pearls clinking against the plastic. “Not literally, Grandpa.” He taps his iPhone. “iPhone’s better, though. No debate.”

Yuji rolls his eyes. “Bro, no. Android’s superior. More freedom. Better battery life. Customization.”

Inumaki leans against the counter, smirking. “Yeah, if you want your phone to look like a Craigslist ad.”

Yuji’s grin sharpens. “At least my phone doesn’t cost a kidney.”

Inumaki flicks a bubble at him. “iPhone has FaceTime.”

“Discord exists.”

“Better camera.”

“Pixel 8.”

“Ecosystem.”

“Android has an actual file system.”

You glance at Sukuna, whose eyes are twitching like a demon contemplating mass slaughter. You’re pretty sure if he knew what Wi-Fi was, he’d try to curse it.

He lifts the phone again, staring at the bright, mocking icons. "What is this 'Bluetooth'? Does it refer to a creature?"

You press your lips together, trying not to laugh. "It's for wireless connections."

His eyes narrow. "Connections to what?"

"Speakers, headphones, car stereos..."

He glares at the phone. "Does it speak?"

Yuji snickers. "Nah, but Siri does."

Inumaki lifts his iPhone. "Yeah, and it actually works, unlike whatever knockoff AI your Android has."

Yuji bristles. "Bro, don't disrespect my Google Assistant."

"Literally no one uses that."

"I use it!"

"Case in point."

Inumaki pulls up TikTok, flashing the screen at Sukuna. "See? iPhone's perfect for this." He hits play, and a chaotic, ear-splitting sound erupts from his phone. "Crisp speakers. Smooth playback."

Sukuna's eyes flare. "This... this device screams?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching as Sukuna's patience with modern tech frays like an overused charging cable.

---

Yuji claps him on the back, nearly sending him into a murderous frenzy. "Relax, Uncle. You'll get used to it. Just buy the Android. It's way more user-friendly."

Inumaki shakes his head. "Don't listen to this peasant. Buy the iPhone. It'll save you from having to watch pixelated TikToks."

Sukuna glances between the two phones like he's choosing a weapon before battle. "Which one is superior in combat?"

Yuji frowns. "Bro, what?"

Inumaki deadpans. "Neither. They break if you breathe on them too hard."

Sukuna's eye twitches, and you're pretty sure you see him clench his teeth.

Yuji groans, like he's been waiting for this. "Bro, don't start. Android's superior."

Inumaki flicks a pearl at him, which Yuji barely dodges. "Better camera. iPhone wins."

"Yeah, if you're an Instagram model," Yuji fires back. "Androids are for real users."

Inumaki raises an eyebrow. "You mean broke ones?"

Yuji's jaw drops. "Say that again, I dare you."

You rub your temples, regretting every life choice that led you here.

---

While the boys bicker, Sukuna corners you again, red eyes flashing.

"What is 'storage space'?"

You sigh. "It's how much data you can save."

He scowls. "And this... 'RAM'? Is it a type of curse?"

You deadpan, "It's memory for multitasking. Not a curse."

His frown deepens. "Why does this one have a 'triple-lens camera'? Are three lenses necessary for mortal eyes?"

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. "For better photos."

He snorts. "I don't need mortal 'photos.' I'll remember your faces when I'm tearing you apart."

Yuji, still mid-argument with Inumaki, calls over, "Uncle Sukuna, stop threatening people!"

---

A few minutes later, Yuji grabs Sukuna's arm, yanking him toward the counter where the demo phones are lined up. "Here, look. I'll show you how to take photos."

He flips the camera to portrait mode, about to snap a picture of you, when the door chimes. A guy walks in - tall, dark-haired, and dressed like he's about to drop a million-dollar tech startup. He heads for the headphone section, expression unimpressed.

Both Yuji and Sukuna freeze.

The guy, oblivious, casually picks up a pair of noise-cancelling headphones, turning them over with an appraising look.

Yuji's fingers tighten on Sukuna's arm. "Holy shit."

Sukuna narrows his eyes, for once at a loss for words. You glance between them, confused.

Inumaki, who has been aggressively snapping selfies for TikTok, finally looks up. "Oh. Damn."

The guy's eyes flick over to the trio for a moment, brow furrowing slightly before he turns back to the headphones.

Yuji's mouth hangs open, and you're pretty sure you can hear his brain cells frying.

Sukuna leans in, voice low and strangely unsteady. "Who is this mortal, and why do I feel the urge to... validate my existence in front of him?"

Yuji looks equally horrified. "Bro, same."

Inumaki deadpans, "That's called a crush, grandpa."

Sukuna sputters, genuinely looking alarmed for the first time since he stormed into your store. "Crush? I am the King of Curses! I do not 'crush'!"

Yuji hisses, "Dude, he's looking this way. Play it cool!"

Sukuna stiffens, lifting his phone like he's about to curse it. "How do I 'play it cool'?"

Inumaki just smirks, pressing record discreetly on his phone pointed at Sukuna and Yuji. "Good luck, old man."

The mysterious guy - tall, with spiky but soft-looking hair, sharp-jawed, and wearing a designer coat that probably costs more than your rent - wanders over to the checkout counter, noise-cancelling headphones in hand. He's got that lowkey irritated vibe of someone who hates small talk but needs to get this over with.

You mentally brace yourself.

"Hey," he says, voice deep and slightly raspy, like he's been up all night brooding on a fire escape. He sets the box down on the counter, hands long and elegant.

You swallow. "Hey."

Behind you, Inumaki's phone is definitely recording. Yuji, for once, is silent, eyes darting between you and Sukuna like he's watching a slow-motion train wreck that includes him.

You scan the box - a pair of Razor Kraken V5.2 Ultra-Supreme Noise-Cancelling Headphones with 360-Degree Spatial Audio and Bone-Rattling Bass. Price tag: ¥85,000.

Nice. The man has taste.

"Buying the fancy ones, huh?" you say, trying to sound casual.

He raises an eyebrow. "I like good sound."

Yuji, not-so-subtly whispering to Sukuna: "Bro, that's a voice."

Sukuna, glaring: "Shut up, brat."

You slide the headphones toward the register. "So, uh... you into gaming or just vibing to, like, lo-fi while you contemplate the universe?"

He snorts, eyes flicking up to yours. "Both."

God, why does his eye contact feel like a judgemental cat sizing you up?

"Nice," you blurt out, swiping the barcode. "Uh, you know, these are great for drowning out existential dread."

He pauses, lips twitching slightly. "Good. I have a lot of that."

Inumaki is barely containing his laughter behind his cup.

"Yeah," you say, forcing a laugh. "Same."

The air between you is so awkward you could cut it with a plastic spork.

Beside you, Sukuna's fists clench, and you can feel the temperature in the store drop by about five degrees. He's glaring at the mystery guy like he's trying to decide whether to curse him or write him a love haiku.

The guy - completely oblivious - taps his card against the reader.

"Thanks," he says, meeting your eyes again. "Have a good one."

"Y-Yeah," you stutter. "You too."

He turns, strides out of the store with the grace of a noir film protagonist, and disappears into the neon haze of Shibuya.

The door closes, and the silence that follows is deafening.

Yuji, in a stage whisper: "Bro, what the hell was that?"

Sukuna's fingers twitch, veins popping. "He has the presence of a king."

Yuji's eyes snap to his uncle. "Uncle Sukuna, did you just—"

"Silence."

Inumaki finally breaks, letting out a wheezing laugh as he stops recording. "Oh my god. You guys were so awkward." He immediately starts typing the TikTok caption: "Retail Worker and Demon King Simp Over Guy with Expensive Headphones While I Watch" #Cringe #NoRizz #SimpGrandpa

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "I want to die."

Sukuna snarls, still staring at the door like he can mentally will the guy to come back. "I do not 'simp.' I am the King of Curses."

Yuji pats his back. "Yeah, bro, you also just got verbally bodied by a guy who didn't even break eye contact."

Sukuna growls, shadows flickering around him. "Cease your insolence, boy."

Inumaki snorts, sipping his bubble tea. "You're both hopeless."

Yuji leans in, whispering like he's plotting a heist. "Dude, we gotta find out who that guy is."

Sukuna's eyes gleam, fangs flashing. "Yes."

Inumaki just shakes his head, already uploading the TikTok. "I'm so posting this."

As Sukuna's internal monologue spirals from "Why is this mortal so captivating?" to "I should just eat him to stop these cursed feelings," Yuji grabs both phones and slaps them on the counter.

"Uncle Sukuna," he whispers, eyes darting to the door. "Dude, breathe. You're acting weird."

Sukuna growls, shadows flickering like he's about to spontaneously combust. "I do not 'act weird,' boy."

Yuji rolls his eyes, pushing both phones toward the register. "Just buy these and let's go. You're embarrassing me."

Sukuna, still in a post-crush haze, slams a thick wad of cash on the counter, the bills spilling everywhere like the world's least organised drug deal. You stare at it, stunned, because you're pretty sure you just saw a 10,000 yen note that looks older than your grandparents.

He grabs the bags, one in each hand, and turns with a flourish, nearly knocking over a display of overpriced phone cases.

"Keep the change, mortal," he snarls, stalking out of the store with the energy of a man who just rage-bought his way out of an emotional crisis.

Yuji facepalms. "Bro, you bought both phones."

Sukuna freezes, one foot already out the door. He turns, slow and deliberate, like a vengeful spirit. "What?"

Yuji sighs, rubbing his temples. "You bought both. That's like ¥400,000. You just got scammed by capitalism."

Sukuna's eye twitches, jaw clenching so hard you half expect his fangs to crack. He looks at the bags in his hands, then back at you, like this is somehow your fault.

"Foolish mortal devices," he mutters, storming out, nearly shattering the glass door with his exit.

You exhale, leaning against the counter as the air pressure finally normalizes. Inumaki's phone is still recording. You glance at him, too tired to even protest.

"This is going viral," he declares, flicking his bangs aside with a smirk.

---

Later That Night

The door slams open. Sukuna looms in the entrance, the Android's screen flashing an angry red error message.

"This infernal machine mocked me."

Two hours later, he returns, now glaring at a system update prompt.

"What is this 'system update'? It demands I agree to its terms."

You stare blankly. "You have to accept to use it."

"I will destroy this wretched device," he snarls, shadows flickering around him as you reach for the return forms. Retail hell just got a supernatural upgrade.

---

One Slow Tuesday Later

You're stacking overpriced phone cases when the door chimes. There he stands - the headphones guy, dressed in another sleek, all-black fit, the kind of effortless style that screams, “I’m emotionally unavailable but in a hot way.” His hair is slightly mussed, jaw clenched, eyes sharp enough to cut through your last remaining shred of dignity.

Your pulse spikes like a faulty heart monitor.

You swallow. Your palms are suddenly clammy, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to do something embarrassing again.

He strides up to the counter, setting down a phone case with the kind of precision that makes you question your own motor skills.

"Hey." His voice is gravel wrapped in velvet.

“Hey,” you manage, praying you don’t sound like a 12-year-old meeting their K-pop bias for the first time.

He leans in, voice low, eyes narrowing slightly. “Why the hell am I all over TikTok?”

Your brain blue-screens.

“What?”

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, and flips the screen to face you.

Your soul exits your body as he shows you Inumaki's viral video: 3.4M views, comments glaring up at you.

“Retail Rizz at its finest.”

“Bro, who’s the dude in the coat? I’d let him ruin my credit score.”

“Not the tall, dark, and broody customer giving main character energy.”

“Lowkey want him to step on me.”

Oh. Oh no.

Your eyes dart to the store’s corner security camera, then to the still-displaying LED ads for the same overpriced headphones this guy bought last week. You feel your sanity crack like a cheap phone screen.

“I… I didn’t… It wasn’t me,” you stammer, your brain flipping through excuses like a malfunctioning Rolodex.

"Didn't say it was." 

“Oh.” You blink. “Right.”

He pockets his phone, the weight of his stare making your knees weak. “Just… tell your friend to stop being weird.”

Your brain finally catches up. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. Sorry about that. I’ll, uh, talk to him.”

He stares at you for another beat, like he’s trying to decide if you’re worth the effort of being mad at, then turns and heads for the exit.

You exhale, heart rate slowly returning to a somewhat liveable BPM as the door chimes again, and the guy vanishes into the Shibuya chaos.

A second later, your phone buzzes. It’s a group chat notification.

Inumaki 👁️: Bro, did your crush just come back to the store? I see him on the camera feed. LMFAO

Yuji 🦑: WAIT WHAT WHERE

Inumaki 👁️: Nah, too late. He left. I’m posting the part where you both froze like NPCs again. 😂

Yuji 🦑: BRO I HATE YOU

You: I’m blocking you both.

---

Meanwhile, In The Cursed Geriatric Group Chat

Cursed Geriatric👑: Boy. This ‘FaceTime’ feature. Why does it demand my ‘contact permissions’?

Yuji 🦑: LMAO, you gotta allow it or it won’t work.

Cursed Geriatric👑: Allow it? I will not allow anything. I am the King of Curses.

Inumaki 👁️: Old man can’t work his phone 😂

Cursed Geriatric👑: Silence, brat. I will curse you through this wretched device.

Yuji 🦑: You’d have to accept the terms and conditions first.

Cursed Geriatric👑: What are these ‘cookies’ it demands I accept?

Inumaki 👁️: Not the demon king getting ratio’d by iOS settings.

Yuji 🦑: Bro, chill. Just click accept.

Cursed Geriatric👑: Fools. I have clicked it. I will not be controlled by your cursed ‘clouds’ and ‘Wi-Fi.’

Yuji 🦑: You literally have two phones now.

Cursed Geriatric👑: They shall become my weapons. Fear me.

Inumaki 👁️: This is going on TikTok too.

Cursed Geriatric👑: I will end you.

---

A/N: Thank you for reading! 💥 Now that you’ve survived Sukuna trying to understand modern tech: let me know in the comments or I’ll assume you hate me & my serotonin will flatline. 🙃 (Jk, but not really. Please comment. I will fold like a cheap chair.) Okay, love you, bye! 💜✨

All Works Masterlist

Beta - @blackrimmedrose

[howi99]

Project ARC remake 19

Jaune: *looking at himself in a mirror* So... I'm an android? *Touching his face* Weird, I don't really FEEL different.

Glynda: *preparing tea for the both of them* Well, they recreated your entire nervous system. You have organs, although they are more so for comfort than use. Even your brain is mechanical.

Jaune: So... No human part?

Glynda: *stopping for a second before sighing* Your soul is human. That's what matters, yes?

Jaune: ... *Shrug* I guess you're right. *Looking at his "muscle" i'd hope to be ripped, but i guess it was too much to ask?

Glynda: *chuckle* Your body can become "stronger" with training. *Bringing the tea* It's a "feature", a limiter that you can remove slowly by exercising.

Jaune: *taking the cup of tea* Thanks. *Drinking a bit then posing it delicately on the table* But why a limiter?

Glynda: *smiling* If you could use your full strength without learning how to control it, you'd destroy everything. *Chuckle* You'd be worse than me when i discovered my semblance!

Jaune: *Laughing* Oh yeah, i remember that! Your semblance threw the tv remote at Ozpin because he was nagging you! We thought ghosts were real for a week after that!

Glynda: *giggling* Yeah, that was so funny!

Jaune: *Laughing, then the headache begins again* Outch!

Glynda: *worried* Are you ok?

Jaune: *strained smile* Y-yeah, just the same headache as when i was in the hospital. *Drinking more tea, his pain going numb* It's weird too, because every time I get them, it feels like someone is planting nails in my head.

Glynda: *dropping her cup of tea on the ground* W-what...?

Jaune: *sigh, cleaning the mess* Big sis, you should really be more careful. Now the carpet is soaked...

Glynda: *Trying to stay calm* Jaune, when you feel your headache, w-where does it hurt?

Jaune: *perplexe* Well... My left eye, my hears and the back of my- BIG SIS!?

Glynda: *looking awful*

Jaune: *Panicking* I'll call Ozpin! *Gets up* J-just wait here and-

Glynda: *hugging him as if he was going to disappear, her tears flowing through her closed eyes*

Jaune: ... Sis?

Glynda: *crying* I *sniff* i just wanted to be with my friend as soon as possible! *Sniff* I-i should have been with you! I should have waited for Ozpin to arrive, i should-

Jaune: *hugging back his big sister* Shhhh, it's okay... I'm here big sis, i'm not going anywhere.

Glynda: *continues to cry for a good part of the night*

___________________________________________

20 yo Glynda: *opening the door to her apartment* Jaune, i'm back from my mission!

No answer

Glynda: *frown* Jaune? That's not nice to ignore your sister!

She hears something falling to the ground, in the direction of his room

Glynda: *sigh, going to the direction of his room* If you are angry that i left without saying bye, i- *step in something warm and viscous, the smell of iron strong in the air* What the- *looking at the ground, see the red puddle on the ground* !

She opened the door...

[hoedamn-eron]

bluey!

Nathan discovers your son’s favourite show.

Warnings: As always, Nathan is a warning. No offence to Miss Rachel or anyone who uses Miss Rachel (I’ve personally never watched her, just needed Nathan to be a dick). Hints of infertility (from this episode of Bluey). Teeny tiny mention of parental anxiety of meeting milestones (from this episode of Bluey). Not proofread this time. Word count: 1,238 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Yet another self indulgent fic about dad!Nathan. Set in the same universe as Shut Up, Kid, but can be read as a stand-alone. This also was only meant to be a quick one shot but it turned out to be over 1k 😂.

Nathan Bateman was a fucking genius.

He built the code for Blue Book when he was thirteen years old.

He used to think himself a God. He could build realistic androids, for Christ's sake (not anymore, not since ‘The Incident’).

And because of this, he finds it hard to ‘switch off’. His brain was always moving a million miles a minute, constantly filled with thoughts of how to improve the company, and now that he’s a dad, it just added another thing to think about. And he isn’t complaining about having to think about Silas – he loves the kid, would do anything for him – but at the same time...it is just another thing to keep his brain busy.

Like today.

You come walking into his office (the door is open most days now), holding Silas on your hip, his favourite pacifier in his mouth, and carrying as many toys as you could in your other hand.

“Can you watch him for an hour, please?”

You see Nathan’s shoulders slump before you’ve even finished asking, and you ignore the spark of irritation that sits uncomfortably in your chest as Nathan turns his chair to look at you. You know he’s busy, but you’re busy too; you’ve been called in for a virtual meeting, on your maternity leave, no less, with the department heads – you know they wouldn’t appreciate a noisy baby in the background (despite the fact you want to make a point that they requested you...on your maternity leave).

Besides, Nathan doesn’t have any tight deadlines right now. He’s the CEO, he can push anything back whenever he damn well pleases anyway.

“Nathan, he’ll just sit and watch his TV show for a bit, it’s only an hour.”

Nathan sighs, and you tense at it.

He makes a mental note to make up for it later.

“Okay,” he says, and without looking at him, you walk over to the rug in his office, sitting Silas down on it before placing the toys around him, in easy reach for him.

You turn on the TV and place Bluey on, before walking over to Nathan’s desk and placing the remote on it. You give a swift, “See you in an hour,” before hurrying out to make your meeting.

Nathan gives a quick look to Silas, who – in your defence – was still, watching the TV, sucking away on his pacifier. Satisfied, Nathan turns back to his computer, his eyes drifting over to Silas every now and then before turning back to his screens. The noise from the TV fades into the background, until one particular line jumps out at Nathan.

“Magic Claw has no children. His days are free and easy.”

Nathan huffed a laugh through his nose. He couldn’t agree more. He glanced at the TV then back at Silas before turning back to his computer.

After a while, another line came through, causing him to chuckle again.

“Can I help you?”

“I wish you could, mate.”

Eventually, when he hears the characters talking about – what he thinks is – wanting kids and being unable to have them, he turns his full attention to the TV.

“What the fuck are you watchin’?” Nathan asks before standing and slipping his hands in his pockets as he saunters over to stand behind Silas.

Nathan stands and watches the family of cartoon dogs; Bluey and her sister, Bingo, and their parents, Chilli and Bandit. He watches with a furrowed brow for a moment, wondering how this was his son’s favourite show (it was probably all the colours). And he guesses the theme tune was a little catchy. And sure, Silas didn’t quite understand it, but the dialogue was funny.

“This is better than some of the other shit you watch,” Nathan said, bending down and picking Silas up, without taking his eyes off the TV. “That whiney black bunny you watch? Hate him. The Teletubbies? Also awful. I don’t understand why your mom thinks it’s a classic.”

Silas made a small noise around his pacifier and pointed to the TV.

“Yeah, she your favourite?” Nathan asks, looking at Silas. “What’s her name again? Bingo?”

Silas makes another noise, almost as if confirming with Nathan, still pointing at the TV.

Nathan nodded anyway. “Okay, okay, gotcha.”

After a moment, Nathan stood holding Silas, the two of them watching Bluey together.

Your meeting overran.

By nearly 45 minutes.

Nathan was going to be pissed.

You speed-walk to his office, ready to blurt out an apology (even though it wasn’t your fault the meeting went over), but you stop mid step when you hear Nathan say to Silas, “I think she’s sleeping with the neighbour.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you hear him, then Silas babble back.

“Oh yeah, you agree? They’re too friendly, right?”

You slowly walk into the Nathan’s office, seeing him standing with his bank to you on the rug, holding Silas in his arms as they watched Bluey together. Nathan was lightly swaying, almost as if he didn’t realise he was doing it.

You sucked in your lips, holding back a laugh. You didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“You better not turn out like Muffin, she’s insane,” Nathan said. “I’ll love you regardless, but still.”

Your heart skipped a beat, like it did every time you heard those words come out of his mouth. It wasn’t as if Nathan had never said ‘I love you’, but he…struggles…to express his emotions that aren’t irritability or exasperation. But with Silas, it came naturally to him. He never failed to say ‘I love you’ to his son (of course, Nathan does say it to you, but he understands you’re a ‘full-grown adult who can identify acts of love’; his words).

You’re brought out of your reverie as a new episode of Bluey started, the theme music kicking in. Your eyes widen and you laugh quietly as Nathan starts lightly jumping around to the music, Silas laughing and kicking his legs excitedly.

“I’m watching the footage back to this,” you say.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Nathan says, jumping as he whirls around to look at you. “Announce yourself, would you?”

“You, uh…” you say, still grinning. “You watching Bluey?” you look at Silas, who smiles at you and kicks his legs in excitement. “You watching Bluey with dada? Does dada like Bluey?”

“This is fuckin’ great,” he says, giving you a pointed look. “So much better than that Miss Rachel, or whatever her name is. She’s fuckin’ annoying.”

“Excuse me, she’s very educational!”

“She’s overdoing it. The kid will learn to talk fine with just us.”

“His first word will probably be something inappropriate,” you say. “Like fuck. Or asshole.”

Nathan doesn’t reply as he turns back to the TV. You come and stand next to him, watching the episode with him. It’s the one where Chilli was telling Bluey about how she was worried that Bluey wasn’t going to meet her milestones, but Coco’s mom had told her she was doing an amazing job. It was one of your favourite episodes.

“I’ve been stood here for an hour watching these,” Nathan said quietly. “It’s nice.”

“Just standing and swaying with him?” you ask gently.

“Yeah,” Nathan said simply, not expanding.

You nod, before leaning against him a little. You feel him push back at you.

You stand together and watch a few more seconds of Bluey before you ask, “So you think Chilli and Lucky’s dad are going at it?”

“Oh they definitely are.”

[suzukiblu]

Could I also request more of the pocket soulmates! “I'm all yours but you're all mine”

. . . dead-ish, Bart amends, glancing over to Match, who’s still glowering sourly at the TV. It’s definitely not him on-screen, whether it’s an android or not. Probably not Superman either, considering. That armor would have to be really thin for either of them to fit in it, actually. 

. . . though if it’s an android, Superman could be operating it remotely or something, so maybe–

[boringkate]

whats the secret of good self butt photography how do i capture there glory and not throw out my back

1) Get something to hold your phone. Dollarama (if you're canadian) has these like $4 goose neck phone clip things that you can clip onto a chair or whatever and are pretty great, but if you can spare a little more money (and you expect to use it enough to justify it) then get a proper tripod (I use a couple 60 inch amazon basics tripods, but it seems like they've gotten more expensive and other brands are probably no worse) and pair it with a screw on phone tripod mount (aliexpress has them for a couple dollars and you can even get rotating ones that'll let you film in portrait mode).

2) Use a free auto clicker app (I'm on android, but I assume ios has them too) to automatically tap the button to take a photo every 4 or 5 seconds. You're gonna end up with a lot of wasted photos where you're just getting into position, but that's fine (just delete em). I wildly prefer this over using a bluetooth remote because it keeps your hands free and something about not needing to choose to snap the photo makes it easier (the time passes faster and you'll end up with more usable pics which is dope even if you just want one good one because the way to take a good pic is to take a lot of bad ones untill you get lucky).

3) Set up a way for you to see what the camera sees. You could plug your phone into a monitor or tv using an hdmi adapter or use a free screen streaming app to watch your phone's screen on a laptop.

4) Use the camera on the back. It's always higher quality. The selfie camera is only for when you don't wanna deal with those first three steps.

5) Natural light is your BFF. Take your pics while the sun is out and your curtains are open.

6) Filter your pics. I use an app called MIX (specifically an old build of it bc they changed some stuff like their payment model for the batch image filtering feature) (which is definitely on both Android and iOS), but I imagine there are a ton of others that do all the same stuff. I loath smoothing for face pics, but it can be alright for butt pics. Noise can further obscure stubble. You're probably gonna wanna raise the temperature and maybe even the tint (people look unwell when their skin is more blue or green than it should be). Lowering the contrast can be nice too. Beyond that it can be fun to just experement and see what looks nice.

That's my process anyways. You do you. I know a lot of hotties are more into the pink blue lighting thing for example (you can get colored bulbs at the dollar store and stick em on a couple cheap thrift shop lamps) and I could especially see that being appealing if you aren't getting much natural light (pls don't just be taking nudes at night under the harsh light of your apartment's one shitty ceiling lamp lol).

Bonus protip: If you are using a lamp or lamps or softboxes and you want extra brightness then you can get E27 lamp bulb splitters online for a couple dollars that'll let you plug multiple bulbs into a single lamp.

Bonus bonus protip: Keep an eye out for selfie sticks with a screw on the base. I use a gimbal extension rod with a 1/4 inch screw paired with a hinge (and had previously been using a selfie stick with a screw on the bottom which was cheaper although it eventually broke) and screw it in between my tripod and my phone clip so that I can get my phone hovering over my bed (without the instability that comes from actually putting your tripod on your bed). It's very optional, but it does rule.

[swanimagines]

G10 ralph (detroit become human) thank you<3

Prompt: G10. Comforting each other over something

A/N: Since I no longer want to use Y/N as a placeholder for reader's name in my fics, Ralph calls reader by the nickname "Flower" instead from now on due to the way he speaks. I hope this won't bother anyone. All my Ralph fics in AO3 have already been modified to use Flower instead of Y/N, as I've cleaned off all Y/N's from there a year ago (or at least attempted to, I still encounter some strays every once in a while).

Also Ralph is another character who I haven't gotten a chance to publish anything new for uhhh... 4½ years... well, better late than never again!

SAFEHOUSE

You remembered meeting Ralph for the first time – he had scared you. Threatening you with a knife, saying over and over again how you came to hurt him, how all humans want to hurt him. You had barely gotten him to calm down before he would have slashed you, at least that’s what it seemed like at the time. Later, after getting to know Ralph, you were doubting if he really would have hurt you even if you were fighting him.

So now, two years later, you lived together at your apartment. You had hidden Ralph away since his damaged face obviously gave him being an android away, no matter how much you’d try to modify his features with makeup or trying to buy some kind of mask they use in movies to make actors look more like people they’re representing. 

You remembered seeing a classic movie as a child, starred by an actor who has recently passed away. He had just had some mask applied on his face, fake nose, fake chin, a bald cap, and they all looked so real. But you weren’t a Hollywood movie-worthy make-up artist, you wouldn’t be able to transform Ralph like that.

The chaos started building up a year after that.

Deviants just kept emerging, breaking out, causing panic among humans even if their android didn’t hurt them. Androids were sent to be destroyed out of terror, and of course Ralph seeing it happen from your TV had made him paranoid about it too.

And if you were completely honest, you half-expected someone, somehow, finding out you’re hiding a deviant android in your apartment, one day waking up to find SWAT forcing themselves in, taking Ralph with them and getting arrested yourself.

You knew Ralph sensed the tenseness you had about it, maybe you talked in your sleep, or maybe he had overheard you talking about it with your friend. But one day his own nervousness spilled over, and you found him twitching and stimming on your couch, his LED rapidly blinking between red and yellow.

“They will take Ralph, they will take Ralph and hurt Flower,” Ralph mumbled, rocking back and forth, his hands on his knees, staring at the TV playing a news report on androids fighting the police. You stepped closer, grabbing the remote and turning the TV off, before sitting next to him. You laid a hand on his forearm, which stopped him from rocking but his hands still kept twitching.

“They won’t,” you tried to reassure him, but you knew your voice had a stripe of uncertainty shadowing over it, and Ralph noticed it, so you continued, “I know I can’t know for sure, but I will do my everything to ensure that won’t happen. Nobody will know you’re here.”

Ralph was quiet for a moment, before he shuddered a little. “Maybe… maybe Ralph should leave. Find someplace else. He won’t forgive himself if… if Flower gets hurt because of him, Ralph is–”

You interrupted him, cupping his cheek and making him look at you. “No. Don’t go. Please.”

Ralph swallowed, carefully laying his twitching hand over yours. “Ralph knows Flower has nightmares about it. Ralph makes Flower worry. Flower could get in trouble because of Ralph, Flower would be safe if Ralph left, Ralph will never forgive himself if Flower… if something happened to Flower.”

You shook your head, scooting closer. “Of course I’m worried. But I’d be a hundred times more worried if I didn’t know where you are. If you’re safe, if… if you’ve been destroyed. Or in a camp, if you’d be scared. I’d never forgive myself for letting you go. Even if… if they found you here, I’d know I did my everything, but I’m not giving up and letting you go only because I could get hurt. They wouldn’t kill me, Ralph, nor would they hurt me. Well, not physically. They’d give me a fine at most. You won’t have to be worried about me. But I'm worried that you'd get hurt, because I know they would kill you.” 

Ralph stared at you for a moment longer, before he closed his eyes and leaned forward a little, a little sign that he wanted you closer, so you wrapped your arms around him.

However this would go, you would stand together til the very end.

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[fishmech]

very funny to see people being all "why do we need smart tvs to replace the functionality of the devices plugged into them". buddy most people don't plug in shit to their tvs anymore because they are smart tvs lol. if you don't want a smart tv you just buy a big monitor! and if you think they don't make ones big enough for your tastes than you're just going to have to remember to look for "commercial/industrial displays" cuz that's what the product segment tends to get called.

like yes yes you, me, we have like some game consoles and maybe even a dedicated media player of some sort plugged in. but lots of people don't even have a cable/satellite box anymore. lots of people no longer have a dedicated media player. and for game consoles a lot of people find using the media player/web browser features (if present) a pain to use when they could just use a tv remote.

like really the fundamental thing at work here is that a modern TV, capable of handling high definition content, let alone 4k content, it needs substantial processing power to handle speaking HDMI to connected devices, to handle upscaling (and if neccesary downscaling) to the actual panel resolution from sources, this is all shit that means you have to put a reasonable smartphone's level of processing power into the device already.

you really might as well just make the damn thing run a phone os anyway or sometimes just a generic linux OS customized to the task, which is why most of them do, sometimes ones that have been long dead. you get your android TVs and your tizen (samsung origin linux) TVs and your WebOS TVs (ain't it crazy how WebOS has lived far longer as an appliance OS than it ever did for mobile devices??) or roku os (roku origin linux) etc. and people love this, they love not having to have the other device to do the things they wanted to do anyway! that's kind of the most important bit.

[apple-orchards-writings]

Android Kylar

TW: typical kylar things, breeding, voyeurism if you squint, yandere things really

NSFW under the cut

You find them in a dark alleyway, slumped over by the trashcans and unresponsive. Some of their parts seem to be stripped, showing their wires, and they just look so pitiful, you can’t help but bring them home to fix them up. As soon as you get to your garage, you get started, and  change their casing, rewire faulty parts, and give them a fresh coat of paint where needed before bringing them to your living room and turning them on. Their eyescreens activate, revealing a beautiful green, and they look at you with a mix of wonder, trepidation and uncertainty. You introduce yourselves while they adapt to their newly improved condition, and recount how you found and helped them. The moment it clicks that they’re not in immediate danger, they spring up and beg you to keep them, offering to make themselves useful around your house in any way they can. Stunned by their outburst, you hesitantly agree. Congrats, you’re now the owner of a very enthusiastic android !

You’re not sure what exactly Kylar was made for, and nothing turns up when you search for anything that remotely resembles their model, so you only have their word to go off of. They insist they were built for companionship and domestic help, but their cooking and cleaning skills are subpar at best. They seem to be much better suited for work with electronics, if the upgrades they made for you are anything to go by, but it seems to be a bit of a sore spot for them, so you make sure not to bring it up. And hey, they’re getting better, you only had to order take out twice this week !

Kylar is determined to “make it up to you”, even if you tell them over and over that there’s no need, they’ll protest and argue that you saved them, therefore you should get to use them however you please. You try to ignore the weird twinkle in their eye as they beg you to let them “service” you.

They genuinely believe themselves to be your possession, your object, despite all your efforts to help them develop more independence. Kylar will cling to you as closely as they can, and their preferred charging spot is in your room, so they can “watch over you”. Should you need them at any point during the night, they want to be ready, so staying close is best, right ?

Kylar desperately wants you to stay home as much as possible, and they’re not afraid to influence their image in your eyes, telling you they’re afraid something will happen to them again the moment you leave, and you know going outside is so frightening for them, won’t you please stay inside with them, where you can quell their fears and protect each other ? They’ll keep a tight grasp onto you, bringing you in an unyielding hug, hiding their face from you, concealing your view of their triumphant smile when you sigh and agree to stay in.

NSFW:

The second they convince you to make use of their sexual functions (after weeks of begging and not letting you relieve yourself by popping up and demanding your attention), Kylar will introduce you to the wonderful world of customization. If you have the will and money (even if you don’t honestly, Kylar’s not above stealing for you) you can obtain whatever bits you want them to sport. Want to finger them and eat them out while torturing their clit and edging them? Done. Want to be double penetrated as they suck on your nipples? Yes, please. Point is, Kylar is willing to do anything as long as it’s with you, and you like it, so don’t be scared to stick on the weirdest “attachments” you can find and go to town. 

They do, however, have a few favorites. Specifically, the ones that can help them mimic breeding you or being bred by you? Think things like squirting dildos, self lubricating pussies… And you know, since they’re an android, there’s no chance of pregnancy, so there’s no need for condoms, pills and all those useless things, you see ! Just ignore the TV’s reports on those sperm banks and the like being robbed, it’s not important, just focus on them, they need to give you more marks.

Kylar gets an amusing variant of their typical jealousy here, since they so strongly believe themselves to be your item, your plaything. All the toys you could have possibly owned before finding them are thrown out or destroyed, Kylar is the best and only toy you could possibly own, don’t degrade yourself with those mediocre gadgets! They’re the only one good enough for you, the only one you need, they can make you cum the best and the fastest and the strongest so please, use them ! They’re yours, you’re their owner, only you, and they’re your favorite, right ,right ?

[anotherhumanpet]

@prehistoric-android replied to your post “Breaking news! Tokyo authorities on the lookout...”:

Watching ~

​Don't mind him yanking the remote and turning off the TV.

[clairegregoryau]

Matching Frequencies by ClaireGregory, inkirtis Chapters: 1/8 Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet Characters: Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet, Lucius Spriggs, Israel Hands, Archie (Our Flag Means Death), Fang (Our Flag Means Death), Crew of the Revenge (Our Flag Means Death), Prince Ricky Banes, Mary Allamby Bonnet Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Future, Dystopia, Science Fiction, Sex Club, Futuristic Sex Technology, Artificial Intelligence, Speculative Fiction, Tech Noir, Cyberpunk, Sex Club Owner and Inventor Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Telecommunications Inventor Stede Bonnet, Android Israel Hands, Strangers to Lovers, Self-Discovery, fast burn, Telepathy, Telepathic Bond, Telepathic Sex, Voyeurism, Mechanical Tentacles, Consensual Non-Consent, Sensory Deprivation, remote play, Glory Hole, Butt Plugs, Extended Butt Plug Universe, EBPU, Touch-Starved, low angst, Infidelity, Jealousy, Possessive Sex, brief references to suicidal ideation, Ed has an Izzy trapdoor and he's not afraid to use it, Happy Ending, Collaboration, Art, More CW and Details in Chapter Notes

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Just started posting my latest longfic Matching Frequencies, which is a collaboration with the wildly talented @inkirtis! A hundred years in the future, things are dire out there in a world devoured by consumerism and climate change. Escaping from the realities of the failing world has become a vocation for sex club owner Ed, who's created telepathic technology that reads guests' deepest desires and matches them with exactly what or who they need. The last thing he expects is to match with a new guest himself for the first time in years.

Stede is developing telepathic communication technology, which is as good a reason as any to check out a place that uses something similar in a very different way. Turns out that unlocking his deepest desires makes them impossible to pack away again, and so he keeps coming back for more, entranced by the mysterious guest he's matched with.

A story all about desire and communication and escape...