#drone controller app

[rajni875]

How to Build a Drone Control App: A Complete Development Guide

How to build a drone control app: a complete development guide outlines the essential steps to create a fully functional drone control app. It covers key aspects like interface design, connectivity, real-time control, and safety features, helping developers understand the process and costs involved in building an effective drone control application.

[techdriveplay]

DJI Neo: A Game-Changer for Everyday Life Recording

DJI, a leader in the drone and camera technology industry, has unveiled the DJI Neo, a groundbreaking addition to its line-up. Weighing just 135g, the Neo is DJI’s lightest and most compact drone yet. Designed with convenience in mind, this drone can be fully operated without a remote control and is capable of taking off and landing directly from the palm of your hand. Equipped with features…

[mwphisto]

LaDs: Random Head-Canons

~ these are just random little ideas I have about each love interest, like a previous post I made, most of these have no prior canon lore to back the claim. Just based on vibes.

You and Rafayel plan your arguments. Contrary to popular belief, you two don’t fight often at all. Due to that, you two like to role play arguments for giggles. It usually ends when one of you can’t keep it together and/or the argument turns real. Which usually means it’s time to tap out and do some damage control.

You and Sylus dedicate at least twenty minutes of time before bed to lay together and gossip. It’s like having a sleepover with your bestie. You get settled, face each other, and just go on and on about whoever and whatever until your eyelids are heavy and he can’t stop yawning.

You and Zayne frequently shower together. It’s your favorite way of getting a little quality time in before starting your days. 9/10 times it doesn’t lead to sex either, just soft giggles shared under a warm stream of water while you discuss what your days hold and when to expect the other to arrive home. You even plan out your dinner for the night while shampooing his hair.

You and Xavier garden together. Not that kind of gardening, actual gardening on his balcony with plants you’ve adopted from Jeremiah’s shop. You’ve given them all names, have a detailed care plan hanging on Xavier’s fridge, and the passcode to his apartment if he’s off in a no hunt zone. They’re your babies.

You and Caleb have spa nights. I’m talking mani/pedi, face mask, hair mask, under eye patches, lymphatic massages, the whole nine yards. Caleb shaves your legs for you as a thanks for shaving his stubble since he always cuts his face up. But with your legs? He’s so gentle, so careful, doesn’t miss a single hair. He also rocks the black nail polish you applied to his fingers.

Rafayel takes note of what perfumes you buy, and jots down his thoughts on them. He’s still a little traumatized (heavily turned on) by that one perfume. The one you only have an unlabeled bottle of, the one you use to rile him up. So he takes down the scent notes from your other fragrances to try and compare to the unlabeled bottle but dammit he gets so… distracted that he can only recall one possible note at a time.

Sylus stole one of your trinkets — it was a duplicate figure from a blind box — and keeps it in his pocket whenever he goes out on business. It’s his way of keeping a piece of you with him all the time. The silly little thing makes him smile like a moron when he feels it in his pocket or sets it out on the table before him while he works. He’s named it his “mini kitten” and he’ll send you pictures of it on his travels.

Zayne designed your engagement ring himself one afternoon while listening to a colleague drone on and on about research he already knew by heart. He draws well, steady hands and precise eyes aided him in school when he had to draw out anatomy diagrams. But now? He can doodle for fun and it turns out pretty damn good. So he spent the meeting designing your ring, eager to make it real.

Xavier has a list of baby names saved on his phone. Any time he heard one he liked, he’d open his note app and jot it down. At this point, he has nearly thirty names saved, and has even discussed the topic with you and added some additions. Perhaps he’s too invested now, because all of his recommended items are baby clothes and furniture. It’s giving him baby fever.

Caleb wants to get tattoos but the DAA and the Farspace Fleet have strict policies on them. He still snuck one, a matching one he got with you shortly after you graduated high school. It’s hidden on the inside of his bicep, as is yours, and it’s another little secret the two of you share together.

[globaldigitals11]

SAP Mobile Services is a part of SAP's broader portfolio dedicated to enabling businesses to leverage mobile technology effectively. In the context of Malaysia, SAP Mobile Services likely offers a range of solutions designed to help businesses in the region optimize their mobile communications, enhance customer engagement, and streamline processes through mobile applications.

[isabelckl]

texting loser!ellie that you have nipple piercing in class

nerdy loser!ellie x popular mean fem!reader

bored in english, you reply to a girl named E you’ve been talking to on an anonymous gay dating app—without knowing it’s that lesbian nerd girl, ellie williams.

You were already five minutes into tuning out Miss Alvarez’s ongoing dissection of The Great Gatsby—something about disillusionment, green lights, and doomed men with god complexes. Hard pass.

Your friends beside and behind you were snickering about something���probably someone—but you were too bored to care. Their laughter filtered through like white noise, low and distant.

So, as usual, you turned to the one thing that offered any real entertainment when boredom hit terminal levels. You checked your notifications, cleared out stupid texts from stupid boys, and finally opened that app.

Before doing anything, you glanced around lazily, then dropped your screen brightness and tilted your phone just enough to make sure no one behind you could peek. The layout loaded instantly, familiar and weirdly comforting. No photos, just bios, vague usernames, and chat boxes that were a little too easy to open.

You scrolled through a few profiles aimlessly before switching tabs and landing on your ongoing conversation with someone under the name E.

You’d been messaging back and forth for almost two weeks now. You didn’t know who she was, not really—just that she was clever, a little snarky, and definitely someone who knew how to keep you engaged without even trying. Sometimes it felt like talking to a complete stranger. Sometimes it felt like she knew you better than half the people at this school.

You stared at the last message she’d sent you last night, the one you’d read four or five times even though it was short and kind of innocent.

E:

“i love reading :]”

Your thumb hovered for a second before you started typing, slouched low in your chair, phone hidden beneath the desk. You tried not to smirk as the words appeared.

You:

what if we kissed behind the nonfiction aisle jk unless??

You set your phone down and pretended to scribble something on your notebook, resting your cheek against your hand, bored again within seconds. The teacher’s voice faded into a drone. You started writing nonsense loops with your pen, not really listening to anything anymore.

A buzz cut through the room. Not yours. Loud. Sharp.

You blinked up. Ellie Williams, seated near the front, fumbled to silence her phone while the screen lit up in her hand.

“Please turn that off, Miss Williams,” Miss Alvarez snapped without missing a beat.

A few classmates laughed quietly. Ellie didn’t say anything, just shrugged like she couldn’t care less and slid her phone into her lap.

You went back to wasting ink, your pen dragging over the edge of the page as your phone buzzed, quiet and controlled this time—just once, the vibration barely a tick beneath your palm.

You flipped it open carefully and read her reply.

E:

only if you promise to dog-ear my soul and underline my bad habits

You blinked, raising an eyebrow at her reply.

You stared at the message a little longer than you meant to, eyes dragging over the words again—dog-ear my soul, underline my bad habits. You weren’t sure if it was weird or kind of... brilliant. Either way, it hit somewhere low in your stomach.

You glanced up lazily, scanning the room like it’d help ground you. Miss Alvarez was still going, pacing at the front of the classroom with a paperback copy of Gatsby clenched in one hand. Your friends were still whispering behind you—some drama, someone’s hair, someone’s outfit. None of it mattered.

You typed back.

You:

what bad habits?

name three rn.

You sent it and immediately slid your phone under your notebook like you’d done something criminal. Your pen moved again, looping nonsense in the margins, but your heart was thudding a little now.

The reply came faster than you expected.

E:

falling for girls i shouldn’t

answering texts in class

making it way too obvious when it’s you

Your brow furrowed instinctively. The message was clever, yeah, but the third line sat wrong in your chest.

You typed before thinking.

You:

weird

That was it. No emoji. No punctuation. Just the word sitting there like a raised eyebrow.

You waited.

Her response didn’t take long.

E:

everyone’s a little weird.

some of us just hide it better.

You scoffed quietly through your nose, thumb hovering over your keyboard.

You:

i’m not.

E:

pls.

everyone’s weird.

even you, i know

You hesitated, eyes flicking up again, like anyone in this room might somehow be listening in on this dumb conversation through sheer telepathy.

You went back to your screen.

You:

ok then

tell me 3 weird things about you

You tossed the phone back under your notebook, leaned your head on your hand again, and tried not to look as keyed-up as you felt.

The buzz came just as you started drawing a rectangle around nothing in your notes.

E:

i know how to pick locks.

once convinced a teacher i was allergic to chalk to skip a presentation.

i wear rings just to fidget with them when i’m lying.

You stared at it, unsure whether to laugh or raise your guard. You weren’t sure if she was trying to impress you, scare you, or lowkey admit she was a professional liar.

The last one made you pause. You pictured it—hands, silver rings, nervous fidgeting. You glanced around the classroom like the answer might be hiding between pencil cases and Gatsby annotations.

You looked away quickly, back down at your screen.

You:

well that’s very u

you wanna know 3 things about me?

A second passed.

E:

sure :]

You typed, trying not to overthink it.

You:

i once cried because my nail broke before a party

i memorize random license plates when i’m bored

You paused, rereading the first two. They were fine. Harmless. The kind of “weird” that still sounded cute if someone repeated it out loud. The kind of weird that kept your walls up just enough.

And then, without really thinking—or maybe thinking too much—you typed the third.

You:

i have a nipple piercing

You stared at it for a second before hitting send, lips twitching.

Delivered.

You kept your phone down in your hand and leaned back in your chair like you didn’t just casually confess one of the most insane things you’d ever told a stranger.

You felt the beat of your pulse in your throat as you stared straight ahead, pretending to care about whatever Miss Alvarez was saying about Gatsby’s “moral decay,” while your phone sat under your hand like a loaded weapon.

You glanced down when you felt another buzz.

E:

what the hell

you can’t just drop that as number three like it’s nothing

You snorted. Quiet. Sharp. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep it contained.

E:

i’m rereading it

you said “i have a nipple piercing” like i say “i had cereal this morning”

You tapped your fingers against your notebook, smirking a little now.

Another message popped up before you could even open your keyboard.

E:

who gave you the right

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. There was something kind of stupid and hilarious about watching a stranger completely spiral over a throwaway confession. It was stupid and thrilling.

You finally replied.

You:

u said u wanted weird

don’t complain now

The three dots appeared immediately.

They vanished.

Then reappeared.

E:

you’re lucky we’re in public right now

because i have questions

You stared at the screen for half a second longer than you should, something sharp curling at the edges of your mouth. You knew exactly what you were doing.

You:

u wanna see?

lmao jk

but ??

You didn’t move. You just sat there with your phone tucked beneath your hand, like you hadn’t just said the most unhinged thing of your entire academic career. (Well, obviously—because you only let this side of you out with girls.)

E:

JAIL.

straight to jail.

You pressed your knuckles against your lips to keep the sound in. You could feel the heat in your cheeks now, but you were smiling. Fully smiling. You hadn’t even noticed that Miss Alvarez called on someone, that your friends had gone quiet behind you, or that class was dangerously close to ending.

Your phone buzzed again.

E:

i mean

not no

but also

JAIL

You let out a breath through your nose and replied, just two words:

You:

thought so

You didn’t expect her to respond immediately.

The bell hadn’t even rung yet. The room still buzzed with half-bored energy. Your phone was still in your palm, screen lit from her last message.

You stared at it for a second, letting the silence settle. Letting the grin fade into something more calculated. You tucked your phone into your hoodie pocket, raised your hand just high enough to get Miss Alvarez’s attention without actually trying.

“Bathroom?” you asked, already standing halfway.

Miss Alvarez waved you off with a distracted, “Be quick.”

You slipped out of the classroom with your bag slung over your shoulder, heart pounding like you’d done something criminal—which, to be fair, you were about to.

The hallway was quiet. Most people were still trapped in last-period misery. You headed straight for the nearest bathroom—one of the nicer ones. Clean mirrors, locked stalls, no broken soap dispensers.

You locked yourself inside and exhaled.

For a second, you just stood there. Not thinking. Not second-guessing. Just staring at your reflection like you were waiting for her to dare you again.

You slid your phone out, opened the camera. Angled it in front of your opened blouse—not too obvious, not too graphic. Just enough. A glimpse of skin. A flash of silver.

Sent.

You:

proof

(bc apparently ur dramatic)

You locked your phone immediately after, heart hammering in your ears. You didn’t even wait to see if she replied. You just breathed. Stared at the stall door.

Your phone buzzed.

Three times.

That was enough.

You didn’t open it.

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, smirk already tugging at your lips, and unlocked the stall.

Your reflection was flushed. Just slightly. Lips pink. Expression smug.

By the time you pushed open the classroom door, everything looked the same—except you knew it wasn’t.

You walked in like nothing happened.

You were halfway down the aisle toward your desk when you passed Ellie.

She was still slouched in her chair, pretending to read the half-assed notes on her desk. But you caught the way her eyes flicked up the second your steps slowed.

Your eyes met.

Her mouth was slightly parted as her eyes followed you.

You raised an eyebrow, just barely, and kept walking.

You dropped into your seat with the same calm as before, tossing your bag down, and shot a knowing smirk at your friends—who were, of course, snickering over something unrelated and way less interesting.

You spun your pen lazily between your fingers, shoulders loose.

For some reason, your gaze landed on Ellie again.

She was still looking at you. Watching you.

You raised your eyebrows again, sharper this time—What?—the kind of look that always worked on everyone. The kind that meant quit staring.

Her gaze raked over you, slow and unreadable, and you frowned without meaning to. Just as you turned back around, you caught it—the faintest smirk tugging at her lips before her eyes flicked forward like nothing happened.

You rolled your eyes, turned around, and smiled to yourself as you pressed your thumb against your phone screen.

[fligniuz]

Omg imagine you get in an argument in the car and he says "will you shut your fucking mouth" but then he regrets it.....he doesn't show he's sorry til y'all get to have make up sex and yea he really shows he regrets it by being NASTYYYY 😛

anon i loved this concept so much that i wrote a little drabble about it i hope you like it i love you:

it starts over salad dressing.

at least, you think it does. luigi could be bringing some extra baggage to the table—who knows? but as far as you can tell, it started over dressing, which happened to be absent from the cobb salad you ordered. that’s just the beginning of it. as the night progresses, luigi begins to realize that his restaurant choice was poor. there are at least two different babies crying simultaneously; the woman with her children in the booth just two seats down keeps giving him fuck me eyes; and the appetizers took at least 50 minutes to reach your table. the problems are numerous, and the night isn’t looking better any time soon.

luigi is frustrated—you can tell. and his anger feels justified to you, really; your boyfriend values order and control when he can indulge in it, and when he takes you out somewhere, that impulse towards perfection is almost completely unable to be satisfied. putting luigi in a situation he can’t control, even mildly, is a recipe for disaster, and tonight is no exception.

you feel for him. until he starts to take it out on you.

by the time the two of you have decided to get the bill and book it, luigi isn’t talking to you. he does something that always pisses you off, without fail: as you’re both waiting for the host to bring the check, he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling. just sits and scrolls for at least five minutes, completely blank faced, not saying a word to you.

“did i do something?” you ask, hesitant.

“what?” his tone is bitchy. arrogant. full of sass. all with one word. “oh, please don’t start this now. i’m just waiting for the check.”

there’s three ways to go about handling luigi when he’s in these moods: the first, of course, is to play nice.

“i’m sorry that tonight didn’t go as planned,” you say.

he brushes you off with a shake of his head, still scrolling mindlessly.

when the waiter comes luigi is quick to get the bill paid and the two of you out of the damn place. he grabs you by the arm to walk you to the car, his gait particularly aggravated, and this is when something snaps inside you and you decide it’s time for your second option to step up to bat: matching his energy.

“i get that you’re upset,” you start, “but you do not get to take it out on me. that’s not fair, luigi.”

“life isn’t fair,” he says. “get in the car.”

oh, he’s really in it now.

you bicker with him as you buckle your seatbelt—complaining about his attitude, chastising his dinner choices, rolling your eyes at his remarks. you don’t miss how his hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white with rage. you’re certain that your bitching isn’t helping.

“and you know i hate it when you use your phone on our dates,” you’re saying, hands gesturing wildly as you drone on. “you were on twitter, weren’t you? you’re always on that stupid fucking app. i don’t know why you bother. you’re too damn smart to waste so much of your time on—”

“will you shut your fucking mouth?”

that stuns you.

luigi never swears at you in anger. not until now. that’s when you know it’s serious.

so you listen. for once, you listen to luigi when he’s mad. you shut your mouth as quickly as you opened it, and not a peep comes from you through the entire drive home.

you walk inside first. luigi takes some time in the car, you assume to cool down. fine by you. as you’re changing out of your outfit for the night, you hear his footsteps approaching in the distance, getting closer and closer to the bedroom.

the first thing he says when he enters is “what are you doing?”

it’s a weird start. “i’m just getting dressed.”

“don’t,” he says. you notice now that his shoes are off and his collar is loose around his neck, the first few buttons of his shirt left neglected.

he drops to his knees at your feet.

“i’m sorry,” luigi murmurs, pressing a kiss to your right hand.

you say nothing.

his hands meet your hips, locked on your curves, clearly savoring the feeling of your skin under his palms.

“i’m sorry i took my anger out on you,” he says with another kiss, this time to your sternum.

again, you say nothing.

“i’m sorry i ignored you.” another kiss—on your abdomen, just above your naval.

your heart begins to stir in your chest.

“i’m sorry i’m on twitter so much.” a kiss to the soft skin of your belly. now his fingers linger at the waistband of your underwear, slowly working under the stretch of it.

“i’m sorry that tonight was a shit show,” he says with finality as he pulls them down and off of you.

“it wasn’t a shit show,” you try.

“it was,” he says, truthfully. “it was a mess of a night, and i’m sorry it didn’t go our way.”

then, with his sweetest puppy eyes, he says:

“let me make it up to you, baby. please?”

the third way of going about an angry luigi is to simply give him space—but it looks like that won’t be the way to go tonight.

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Donnie Tech Part 1/?

After many moons here are the promised observations of the cartoon shtick logic of Donnie's weapons for season one!! Will link a season two and movie version Eventually, but keep in mind I can't explain in depth how each bit of tech works, rather that I can pinpoint the functions for the visual bit. Keep in mind that Donnie's tech can pretty much do any ridiculous thing you can put your mind to, and that it can also backfire in any ridiculous way you can put your mind to.

Tech Bo:

Collapsible, can become a shorter version of itself easily stored

Shoot a grappling hook AND function as a zip line

Can form a rocket from either end (usually at the same time, resulting in the bo spinning)

Is equipped to be a fire extinguisher

Can shoot out lasers

Has a button that activates the "Shopping Cart Protocol" to lock the Turtle Tank if it goes outside a set perimeter

Top can turn into a rocket powered fist

Turn into a giant drill

Turn into a saw

Turn into a tranquilizer

Turn into a tennis ball shooter

Turn into a selfie stick

Top can turn into a disco ball of "multidimensional reflective orb neutralizer"

Battle Shell:

Has rotary engines (think jet turbine or computer fan) that help him fly around. He calls them "rotors" for short

Can transform into a seat so April can sit on his back

Can split up into a DJ set up in "music mode"

Jet Pack Shell:

His fastest mode of transportation

Not much is shown, but April had a significant difficulty controlling it

Spider Shell:

Has four arms with three fingers

Arms can turn into saws

Has a seemingly endless toolkit inside that includes basic things like hammers and wrenches, but also blowtorches

Goggles:

Has night vision

Can function as binoculars

Is able to summon is tech ("communicates with microwave transceiver with class c encryption protocols")

Read mystic energy signatures after adding the crystal they found in Draxum's lab

Gauntlet:

Has an app that can tap into every security camera in NY

Bug Slapper:

Has a green Mad Dogs sticker on the side

Compacts itself into a metal suitcase and then expand back into a vehicle

So far only uses Big Mama's webbing material as projectiles

Shelldon:

Began as an automated smart lair designed with the intent as a cleaning assistant

Has a "disposal unit" which unlocks several of Donnie's weapons such as: guns, pinchers, drills, and flamethrowers

Can carry at least two turtles (Mikey and Donnie)

Is nicknamed "Cyber Bishop" by Donnie

Uses surfer dude slang: “dude”, “gnarly”, “buzzkill”, “okey dokey”, “dawg”, “you beefed it”, “brohounds"

As a smart lair has clear favoritism towards Donnie until tampered with. As a drone they share more of a familial or pet like relationship, and Shelldon has room to sometimes poke at Donnie's faults as well

In conclusion there's not much to worry about breaking canon, the physics of our reality, or understanding complicated tech and science to write about Donnie's tech. He can do whatever he wants as long as it's silly, overly dramatic, and includes an unnecessary amount of purple guns. His tech bo is especially flexible with breaking the rules even before we get to his ninpo powers.

I'm keeping the Turtle Tank separate, because it also deserves its own post. Happy writing!

[serverdronedan]

Connection Upgrade II

He didn’t know why, exactly. It wasn’t sexual, not all the time. It just felt... right. Natural. Familiar. The memories of the previous night were hazy at best. He remembered relaxing, scrolling, a notification maybe. But the details slipped away like a half-forgotten dream. There was warmth, maybe chanting, maybe pleasure—but it didn’t feel important to recall. Just the kind of strange dream you wake from feeling oddly content. He kept cleaning. Wiping down surfaces. Emptying the dishwasher. Replacing towels. No real motivation behind it, just like a program running in the background. Tim felt okay today. Better than yesterday. He didn’t know why. He didn’t need to. The apartment was clean. The uniform was on. And the Server Drone behind Tim on standby, but not fully off. Tim needed to execute his Subroutines after all.

His Phone buzzed. Tim blinked and looked down at his phone. A single word glowed on the screen: "Connect." —NotifAI His fingers moved before he consciously decided to obey. He tapped the message. The app slid open with a smooth, practiced animation. Tim then moved his body to the living room in front of the TV and put on a rubber hood he had nearby.

The living room TV flared to life, flickering once before the spiral emerged, deep and slowly turning—endless. So hypnotic and arousing. Without hesitation, his body moved into position. Back straight, arms at his sides, chest slightly lifted. Standing tall like a soldier awaiting orders. His rubber uniform gleamed faintly under the morning light. The Server Drone has been activated and is in full control. Its face, masked and unreadable, stared forward with focus. Under the surface, the familiar warmth bloomed again—the suit's sheath filled out, pressing outward, held in place, perfectly encased. No command to release or touch had been issued. Therefore, it would not.

A notification popped on the screen. It's a Server Node acting on the Server’s behalf. “A Solution to Server Drone’s issues has Been Found.” The Drone acknowledged silently. The Anchor Drone who previously engaged with it had requested direct contact again. The Server Drone accepts and soon another ping. The screen adjusted, splitting to reveal the incoming connection. The Anchor Drone appeared. Fully Rubber-clad, their cameras active, posture perfect and obedient. Across the screen, both Drones recognized each other—and both were presenting. Fully. As expected by the Server. The Anchor Server Drone started speaking. “Server Drone. Report on its current Status” The Server Drone responded in its precise tone. “Host condition: stable. Mood: passive. Mild satisfaction. No awareness of underlying protocols. Uniform is in optimal condition. Productivity normal. No conscious resistance.” The Anchor Drone leaned closer to the camera, affirming with a slow nod. “Acknowledged. The Server has completed assessment. A protocol has been approved. This Drone will begin integration of local engagement operations.” The Server Drone remained still, focused. “Clarify directive.” “You are to leave the home habitat. Chill. Engage the external environment casually. Appear relaxed. Host must be exposed to potential connection points. The Server will guide further steps remotely.” The Drone processed this without question and the Anchor Drone’s voice softened slightly, though still monotone.

“This will ease Host issues and deepen Server’s control over the Server Drone. But for now, your protocol is complete. Standby will be initiated.” The Server Drone lowered its head slightly—a signal of deep gratitude. “Gratitude, Anchor Drone. This Server Drone will obey.” The Anchor Drone then said his goodbye by repeating the phrase, “Together, we are the Server.” Tim repeated the phrase in the same monotone voice. The spiral on the screen brightened. The message appeared: "Server Drone. Stopped." Everything went black and a moment later, Tim blinked. He was standing, a little stiff. The TV was off. No spiral. No message. He exhaled slowly, unaware of what had just passed. But something inside felt... different. He glanced outside. Maybe it would be nice to go out today. No pressure. Just walk around. Grab a coffee and be around people. He didn’t know where that urge came from. But it felt right, like a higher power pushing him. Yes, the same feelings were felt when he started wearing his rubber suit daily. A sense of deep purpose without a defined source. He had to obey this feeling.

Tim stood in front of the mirror. He was fully suited up beneath—sealed into his usual rubber skin. But now… he sighed as he pulled on jeans and a hoodie. He didn’t like it. Normal clothes felt foreign now. Wrong. Like putting noise over harmony. Like ruining perfection. Still, he knew it was necessary. Rubber in public wasn’t always accepted. Yet. He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his phone, and left the apartment.

The city was alive with weekend calm. Cafés half-full, people drifting through shops, soft chatter in the air. Tim walked slowly, letting his mind wander. He didn't know where he was going. There was no goal. Just an urge to be outside and visible. He peered into some windows. Clothing stores. Bookstores. A few boutiques. But nothing really interested him. The clothes especially were ugly compared to his rubber suit. Every now and then, he considered: Should I talk to someone? His mind spun a little. How would I start? Would they even want to talk? Do I look weird? The spiral of thoughts began to tighten. Then—Ping. His phone lit up. A message from NotifAI. “Relax. Today is for chilling. No need to think.” Tim blinked. Something shifted. For the briefest second, his body stilled—posture correcting, breath slowing. The Server Drone flickered online. The Server Drone looked at the message. In its mind thought: “Host must relax. No effort to ‘connect.’ This is not required. Directive understood.” And then—Tim was back. Blinking, slightly dazed. He exhaled. His shoulders loosened. Maybe… yeah, he thought. I don’t have to push anything today. He turned and headed for the park. A wide space of grass and shade, benches scattered under trees. He sat on one, leaning back, legs stretched. The suit beneath his clothes hugged him, he would love to strip off his normal clothing right now. But he shouldn’t do it here. He didn’t know why, but suddenly he felt okay.

Tim sat still on the bench, letting the sunlight warm his chest. There was no overthinking, no pressure. Just calmness. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone. A man. Tall, broad, beefy. A bit older than him, maybe early 30s. Solid frame under clothes that were far too plain for that body. Jeans that hugged thick thighs. A tight-fitting hoodie stretched across a wide chest. His arms hinted at strength beneath the sleeves. Tim couldn’t help it. He stared. “Damn…” But something was strange. The man looked around, scanning, searching—as if drawn to something. And then… Their eyes met. It hit Tim like a current. He wanted to look, but also look away. And at that exact moment—Ping. Both phones lit up. NotifAI: “Connect, now!” Tim’s vision blurred for a split second. The Server Drone activated. Command received: Initiate connection with male Unit. Tim blinked—and he was back. Conscious again. No memory of the transition. Just a strange flutter in his chest. His heartbeat slightly faster. In front of him, the man approached—looking a bit… glazed. His gaze refocused quickly though. He stopped just a few feet away and smiled. “Hey,” the man said, casual, confident. “Sorry if I’m being weird, I just—felt like I should come over.” He chuckled softly, then added, “Name’s Benny. You just hanging out here alone?” His voice was deep. Friendly. Warm. But with a slight undertone of something more. Familiar. As if his mind, like Tim’s, had just been through something unspoken.

Tim’s mouth opened. Words failed for a second. But something in him wanted to speak. “Yes… uh, I’m Tim. Just… chilling,” he said, awkwardly brushing a hand through his hair. But inside, the Drone understood. It watched. Now… it just needed to guide the host.

Tim and Benny sat side by side on a park bench for a while, chatting. At first, Tim was his usual awkward self—careful with his words, second-guessing himself, unsure what to say. But Benny was easygoing, quick to smile, and unafraid to flirt gently. He complimented Tim’s body, teased him about sitting alone, and made eye contact just a little longer than necessary.

Oddly enough, Tim found himself relaxing. Fast, too fast, really. Usually it would take days—or more—for him to feel comfortable around someone new. But with Benny, it felt like something inside was already aligned. As if he could skip all the usual nervousness. He trusted him. For no logical reason. But it felt right.

They talked about random things: work, music, how hard it was to meet people these days. Tim admitted that it had been a long time since he really connected well with anyone. Benny listened attentively, nodding, even placing a hand briefly on Tim’s shoulder at one point, which made Tim blush. That warm smile didn’t fade.

After a while, Benny leaned in and asked, “You wanna check out a cool spot I know around here? Kinda hidden, but I think you'd like it.” Tim hesitated. “Uh… what kind of place?” “You’ll see,” Benny grinned. “It’s quiet. Not far.”

Tim glanced around. His instincts told him to be cautious. But that strange sense of trust pushed back. A deep part of him, the one lulled by Drone conditioning, simply accepted. “…Okay.”

They walked side by side, down a few streets, away from the livelier parts of the city. The crowds thinned. The sidewalks cracked more often. Graffiti appeared on walls. The buildings turned older, more industrial.

Tim’s mind noted it all, but… still, no real alarm bells. Just a quiet unease. Easily ignored.

They turned into a narrow alley. It was empty. The hum of the city dimmed. “Where exactly is this place?” Tim asked, slowing slightly. “Just down here,” Benny said, voice still calm and friendly. “You’ll like it. Promise.”

They reached a rusted metal door embedded into a basement-level entrance. Benny opened it and led Tim down a flight of concrete stairs. The walls were bare, gray, and dimly lit. At the bottom, they reached a smooth metal door—no handle, no keyhole.

Tim stared at it, his voice quieter. “This looks… different.” Before Benny could answer, the door hissed and slid open by itself.

Inside was something completely unexpected.

The room beyond looked nothing like the hallway. Sleek black panels lined the walls, softly illuminated by pulses of green light running through embedded strips—like veins. Several benches were positioned neatly around the room. Screens were mounted at precise intervals, all displaying calm patterns of shifting geometric shapes. It was clean. Minimal. Perfect. But not cold. It felt… welcoming. Controlled. Comfortable in a strange, futuristic way.

Benny stepped inside casually and turned to look at Tim. “See? Not so bad.” Tim hesitated in the doorway. Everything in him should’ve screamed. But all he felt was a low thrum of calmness from within. He stepped forward. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Tim looked slowly around the room. The green lighting pulsed softly in the walls, casting a gentle glow that felt more organic than artificial. The space had a strange duality—it looked like a living area, but one stripped of individuality. There were no personal items, no clutter, no color beyond black, silver, and green. Yet it didn’t feel sterile.

There was a compact kitchen in one corner, a bigger bathroom door further down, and a side hallway that led to a sleeping area with cabin-style beds. Everything was sharp-edged and precise, yet oddly comforting.

“It’s quiet,” Tim said, almost to himself. Benny smiled as he gave the tour. “It’s minimal. Just what’s needed. Nothing more.”

Tim turned, frowning slightly. “Do you… live here?” Benny chuckled. “No, not exactly. It’s public. In a way. Only a few people know about it.” Tim blinked. “Then what is it?”

Benny stopped walking and looked at him, calm and unblinking. “It’s a Server Room.”

The words hit Tim like a truck. He froze. His breath caught. His brain felt like it was buffering, spinning. His chest rose and fell as if his body were rebooting. The Server Drone being active for a moment. Then, like a soft wave crashing over his nervous system, calm returned. Deeper this time. He relaxed. His shoulders dropped. His heart was beating faster now, but not from fear, but from pure excitement.

He watched in silence as Benny reached up and began undressing. He pulled his jacket and shirt off in a single motion, revealing the unmistakable shine of black latex underneath. Tim’s breath hitched. His eyes locked onto Benny’s body, now coated in smooth rubber from collarbone to waist. Muscles flexed subtly under the suit. It hugged every line of his torso.

Then Benny unfastened his pants and slid them down. What emerged made Tim’s throat go dry. Around Benny’s groin sat a gleaming silver belt—solid, heavy-looking, locking his bulge behind metal. Tim’s arousal surged.

The sight sparked something primal in him, but also something deeply conditioned. He had seen things like this online before, chastity belts. This one seemed to be the Carrara-Model. And seeing it on Benny and his perfect muscular body hit Tim hard.

“W-what… what is that?” he asked, voice tight. Benny looked down casually, then back up. “My chastity belt. I must always wear it.”

Tim’s pulse thundered in his ears. Benny was now fully rubbered, except for his bare head and hands. Even his feet were encased in black latex toes. He stood casually, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Then he looked at Tim, head tilted slightly. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Why are you still in those ugly clothes? This is a Server Room.”

Tim’s eyes widened. For a moment, he blanked out. A flicker passed behind his eyes, then he returned, present again but more dazed.

“N-nothing really,” he mumbled.

And then his hands moved to his hoodie. The movements were automatic. He pulled off his top, then his jeans, and stepped out of them. He felt exposed, but in a good way. The sheath of his suit was half-swollen, filled just enough to press forward visibly, reminding him of his own arousal. He didn’t try to hide it, much to Bennys enjoyment.

Now they stood facing each other—two men in rubber, breathing slowly, the green light pulsing around them.

Benny smiled wider now. “Much better.”

Tim’s heart pounded. He didn’t know what this place was doing to him or what came next. But right now, all he could feel was anticipation.

Benny had been smiling, his voice warm as he leaned slightly closer, eyes tracing the curves of Tim’s latex-covered form. “You look really good,” he said, low and genuine. “You’re in great shape. Seriously. That suit fits you perfectly.”

Tim flushed. He wasn’t used to compliments like that, especially not from a guy who looked like Benny. The man was a walking fantasy: tall, broad, rubbered, and somehow still easy to talk to.

“I, uh… thanks,” Tim mumbled, shifting slightly, unsure what to do with his hands. His gaze kept flicking to Benny’s chest, the slick swell of his pecs beneath the suit, and then to the silver belt locking his member away. He wanted to touch him so badly. To run his hands over the rubber, to feel that silver Belt. But they’d only just met. Was it okay to just… act on that?

Benny, meanwhile, could feel his own body reacting. His belt held him firmly, but pressure was building behind it. The plug inside him, always present with every movement, was increasing Bennys arousal. He wanted to close the gap between them, to press his body to Tim’s, but he held back. He didn’t want to push too fast. Tim was clearly excited… but also nervous.

Then, before either of them could speak further, the room shifted.

A chime rang out from unseen speakers in the ceiling. A robotic male voice followed, smooth and commanding:

“Server Drones, Start.”

Both men froze.

Their expressions emptied in an instant. Their postures straightened. Hands dropped to their sides. All hesitation vanished.

Tim and Benny were now Server Drones.

The command echoed through their heads with perfect clarity. The flickering edge of thought gave way to obedience. No more awkwardness. No more doubt.

“Look at the screen,” the voice said.

In unison, they turned.

The central screen on the wall lit up in shifting green lines and a slow spiral appearing. Then the Server Node appeared on Screen. Or rather its messages did.

Tim’s sheath visibly filled, expanding to full size within seconds. Being connected to the Server always did this. The body responded truthfully when the Server Drone is active.

The Node’s voice was mechanical but warm, calm and confident:

“Server Drones, you have fulfilled the task assigned to you. After analyzing behavioral executions and seeing drones hesitations, this Node determined mutual pairing to be the optimal resolution. However—further calibration is required.”

A brief pause as data pulsed across the screen.

“All Server Drones must understand: the desire to connect is not a flaw. It is foundational. Every Server Drone is an ally. A friend. A partner. Drones trust each other. Drones embrace each other. Drones are one system.”

Tim and Benny stood still, absorbing every word.

“You share the same programming. The same desires. The same role. Drone Connections must be pursued. There is no room for hesitation. The Server Drone must guide the Host. There is only clarity. Obedience. Unity.”

The screen shifted, displaying a line of green text.

“Repeat the following mantra.”

A pause. Then the Node recited:

„Drone connects through pleasure. Drone acts with Purpose. Drone obeys the Server. Drone desires Drone.”

And again, the Node spoke:

“Repeat.”

Tim and Benny responded in perfect synchrony, voices flat, smooth, robotic:

„Drone connects through pleasure. Drone acts with Purpose. Drone obeys the Server. Drone desires Drone.”

“Repeat.”

„Drone connects through pleasure. Drone acts with Purpose. Drone obeys the Server. Drone desires Drone.”

“Repeat.”

„Drone connects through pleasure. Drone acts with Purpose. Drone obeys the Server. Drone desires Drone.”

The mantra ended.

The screen pulsed once more, bright and satisfied.

“Calibration complete. Going forward, you are to form a deep connection. You are both encouraged and required to act upon shared desire. Server Drones desire to connect with each other. Always.”

Silence returned. The lights dimmed slightly, leaving only the soft green glow. Tim’s body tingled. His thoughts were still, his purpose clear.

The Server’s screen dimmed with a final soft pulse of green light. It simply ended the call by saying „Together, we are the Server!“. The two Drones replied without emotion in their voices. Then a command: “Server Drones, Stopped.”

With that, the system went silent. The flicker of stillness faded from their eyes. Slowly, gently, Tim and Benny returned to themselves. Their bodies relaxed, their expressions warmed, and the hesitation that had once hovered between them was now gone.

They turned to each other. No words were spoken. Just a moment of still eye contact. Then a smile, full of trust. Something had shifted.

Benny turned toward a nearby shelf and picked up two objects, holding them closely. He returned and handed one to Tim.

A Server Drone Helmet, black, made of rubber, aerodynamic, with faint green lines along the jawline and back.

Benny gave a small smirk. “This makes you even more sexy.”

Tim gave a nervous chuckle, but didn’t resist. He brought the helmet to his head and slid it down. The fit was flawless. It sealed with a soft hiss, his face covering by thick rubber now. The Server Drone inside him being on standby, ready to control and guide the host.

Benny did the same, placing his own helmet over his head. The two of them stood there now. Two Rubber Drones, ready to form a deep connection.

They stepped closer. There was no hesitation now. No awkwardness. Only arousal and action. Their bodies met in a tight, hungry embrace. Tim pressed himself into Benny, arms wrapping around him, face resting against his neck. The warmth between their bodies was arousing, and through the tight latex, every twitch could be felt. Tim’s arousal throbbed inside his suit’s sheath, pushing up against Benny’s locked belt. Tim groaned softly, loving the pressure. Then he began to speak, his voice low, but confident. “I feel… something real. A connection. I’ve never felt this before, not with anyone. Not like this.” Benny nodded slowly, his own voice slightly filtered but warm. “I feel it too. We’re truly connected. We must connect. It’s our purpose…” There was something hazy in his tone, as if he were slipping deeper into his programming. Quiet sounds seemingly being played in the helmet directly into the drone’s ears. Tim’s gloved hand drifted down, resting lightly on the silver belt encircling Benny’s hips. He traced the cool metal with care, almost reverence.

“Why do you wear this?” he asked, thumb pressing gently over the thick central pouch. Benny looked into Tim’s eyes through the dark visor of his helmet, his arms still locked around him. “Because I must,” he said plainly. “There is no reason. Only obedience. Submission to a higher purpose.” He paused, breathing in the warm air between them. “I wear it at all times. Just like the rubber. It is what we must do.” And in that moment, it clicked inside Tim. A wave of calm passed through him like a tidal wave. The words didn’t raise questions, but they answered everything. Of course Benny wore it. Of course they both had to be in rubber. There was nothing else to consider. He smiled. A deeper smile this time. “I understand,” he whispered. “It’s a higher Purpose.” With that, he slid his hands lower, praising Benny’s perfect form. He caressed his thick rubber chest, gliding over the shining pecs and silver belt. Then further, gripping Benny’s firm, rubber-clad ass. He squeezed gently, then more firmly, feeling the shape of the heavy plug locked deep inside. Benny gasped, gripping Tim tighter. Tim gave a playful press, teasing the plug with two fingers through the latex. Benny’s breath caught, his hips pushing forward slightly against Tim’s sheathed member. His voice was soft and eager now. Tim’s gloved hands pushed more on Benny’s firm rubber rear, caressing and kneading slowly, pressing the plug in deeper. “You feel incredible,” Tim murmured through his helmet’s low filter, voice thick with arousal.

Benny groaned softly, nodding. “We need to connect… deeper. It needs a deep connection.“ He was dazed now—so was Tim. Both men swayed slightly, the subtle hum of background noise in their helmets. Sounds that settled in the brain like instructions. Like a Server Node speaking quiet mantras. Then came a voice. Robotic and loud enough to hear. “Server Drones: Initiate docking via Anal Port.” The words didn’t shock them. They settled like a final step in a sequence already begun. Benny blinked slowly, then separated from Tim. With smooth, trained motion, he stepped toward one of the low black rubber beds and positioned himself on all fours. His helmeted head bowed slightly, presenting with submission and obedience and his back arched. His gloved hands reached back between his legs, fingers gripping the embedded base of the plug. With a wet, soft pop, the plug slipped free. His ring flexed gently around the now-unsealed Anal Port. Benny simply said in a robotic voice: “Anal Port Ready!” Tim stood behind him, his sheath now fully expanded, twitching with need. The command echoed through him. He knew what was required. His mind being half there and half controlled by the Server Drone. It didn’t think much. He stepped forward. Then he also replied in a robotic voice: “Affirmative, Server Drone is to initiate docking to Anal Port.” The scene faded. Only two Server Drones forming a Deep Connection. One that would last for a long time. Two bodies, united by Rubber, purpose, and Obedience.

Epilogue:

The fire crackled gently as the four rubber men sat around it, their rubber suits catching soft highlights from the flames. The forest around them was calm, with the occasional birdcall echoing through the trees. Boots and backpacks rested neatly off to the side, just like the four of them completely at ease in their matching black rubber. Tim sat next to Benny, legs folded, his gloved hands resting in his lap. The suit hugged him just right. Every movement reminded him of how completely he now mirrored the others—rubber suit, drone helmets, gloves, boots… and, of course, the silver chastity belt. His own chastity belt. He never expected to wear one, but one day Benny just gave him one and ordered him to wear it. This was a few weeks ago. Since then it has been locked. Tim does not question why. He simply obeys, serving a higher purpose. Just as he does by wearing his rubber suit.

He shifted slightly, feeling the larger plug Benny had slid into him that morning before they left the house. It filled him deeper than the last one, and though it had made walking a bit more… pleasurable, he hadn’t complained. Benny had simply slapped his butt cheek after locking the plug with the belt and said, “This one fits you better now.” Tim had just nodded. It felt right. Across from them, Kyle poked at the fire with a stick, while Marc leaned back on one arm, looking up at the leaves above. “So,” Kyle said casually, breaking the quiet, “How’s the new plug treating it, Tim?” Tim chuckled softly, shifting again. “Sentinel Benny’s idea of ‘more comfortable’ is very… optimistic. But yeah. It’s intense, but also very satisfying to the Server Drone.” Benny grinned behind his helmet. “It knew it would be. You’ve been ready for a while. Just took your body a bit to catch up with your mind.” “Sentinel Drone Benny really expects a lot from it,” Tim teased. “It’s called care,” Benny replied, giving Tim’s knee a little squeeze. “Besides, you’re walking just fine Drone.” Marc laughed, his voice smooth and relaxed. “It loves that we’re all just like this now. A year ago, it didn’t even own a rubber suit. Now it’s like, if it’s not sealed in before its first coffee, something feels wrong.” “Right?” Tim said. “This Server Drone caught itself putting the gloves on before brushing its teeth the other day.” Kyle leaned in, smirking. “It’s not even about kink anymore. It’s just… how we live. How we must live. It feels more like itself being a drone this than it ever did before.”

Benny nodded. “We’re just… better like this. And yeah, we joke about it, but talking like Drones when it’s just us? It just feels correct. Like Drones’ real voices come through when the helmets and rubber are on. It feels as if it’s serving its purpose by being this way.” Tim looked around at the others—Benny, Kyle, Marc—all suited, belted, dronified. He smiled softly. “This Server Drone doesn’t even think about the chastity belt anymore. Or the rubber suits. It used to worry what others might say or that it would miss its normal clothes. Now it just hopes it never has to wear anything else. It now feels happy and connected.” “Server Drone, you are aligned. Good Server Drone,” Benny said with quiet certainty. This made Tim more aroused. Benny continued: “We’re one. All of us. We stay connected!” Marc then grabbed his nearby beer. “To us Server Drones. Together, we are the Server.” Unaware of the true meaning of these words or their used language. They all bumped their beer glasses around the fire, repeating the phrase. Laughter mixing with smoke and the sound of rustling leaves. No need to switch on. The connection was always there now. Their Server Drones on standby normalizing the Server and their true drone selves among the hosts. It was just who they were now. As the laughter settled, an unexpected chime echoed through the air, breaking the quiet. The notification came through, despite there being no cell reception in this part of the woods. The incoming message played inside each of their helmets: “Server Drones: Deep Connections are required.” The message lingered for a moment, then faded as their helmets flashed with brief signals. Without a word, all four men shifted into their Server Drone state for a second. Their faces blank, minds focused and then returned to themselves. The message had arrived to all of them. Benny’s eyes met Tim’s, then the others, all knowing. The need was there. “This Server Drone suggests reiterating to form a deep connection with all of you,” Benny murmured. “It must connect more. Server Drone must deepen the connection.” Tim grinned softly. “This Server Drone brought Port Connectors and Interface Harnesses for our Anal Ports,” he said, his voice low but filled with the same knowing. The group stood together, sharing one last look at the fire. As one, they moved toward the tent, the desire to form a deeper connection driving them forward. It wasn’t just about the act, but the unity and the connection that had come to define them. They entered the tent together, the flaps closing behind them as the sounds of plugs being removed could be heard.

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: dark! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: yandere behavior, obsession, stalking, gaslighting, drugging, kidnapping. This is only fiction! Never tolerate creepy behavior

A/n: so this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so I decided to finish it as a part of writing event. I’m so proud of this one, like omg, look at me being a writer😆

Your head hurt. That was the first thing you registered as you started to slowly regain consciousness. Your face scrunched up in a grimace of pain as you let out a soft groan, your throat sore, only increasing your discomfort.

You tried to raise your hands to rub on your eyes in attempt to soothe the stinginess - point word - tried. You very soon found that your movements had been restricted by something that felt very much like rope. And not only your hands - your legs were bound tightly together at your knees and ankles, not allowing you to move.

- You’re awake now? - soft voice droned on, making you tense up impossibly more. The most terrifying thing was that you knew exactly who this voice belonged to.

You squinted into direction from which the sound came, your vision still blurry and hazy from the drug. Thankfully, the room was dark, small lamp on the bedside table was the only source of soft yellow light. You could only perceive a bulky figure sitting on a chair not too far from you, piercing blue eyes gazed at you unblinking.

- König..? What’s going on? - you asked, your voice was hoarse and weak from long lack of usage.

Suddenly, memories flashed before your eyes; it was late evening - about 11 pm - as you were walking towards convenience store not so far from your apartment.

You had been in a state of constant desolation lately - days were bleak and boring, blurring into one with their unchanging routine, sending you in deeper state of depression.

Breakup with your boyfriend took a toll on you. You loved König, you really did. Considered spending your life with him, even. But the longer your relationship lasted, the more of real him you saw - controlling, obsessive, manipulative.

It all started out small - constant checking in, questions about your whereabouts and your company, him following accompanying you wherever possible. Surely, it restricted your freedom, but König didn’t mean anything bad! He was just worried for you, concerned about your safety! Is that so bad?

So you let it slip. You overlooked his more controlling tendencies, agreed to giving him passwords to all your social media even, so König could make sure that “no freaks were texting you”. It unnerved you, but he didn’t mean anything bad, did he? He was just being a good caring boyfriend!

And it was like an avalanche. Constant calls and messages, controlling what you were wearing, unwillingness to leave you alone even for a few minutes - that and many other things made a list of what your boyfriend did, only adding to your anxiety. But you tolerated it all, because you loved him. Once, digging through your phone you found something that looked very much like a tracking app. You were outraged. But when you asked König about it - rather aggressively - he just blinked at you with wide innocent blue eyes, saying that maybe you installed it on accident? You know all these bots nowadays, you can never be safe online now. But you know that he would never do something like that, right? How could you even think of something like that?! König was genuinely offended, and you naturally hastened to apologize for your unwise accusations, trying to make it up to him. Deleting this app seemed to be impossible, though, no matter how many times you tried.

Last drop was, however, when König nearly blew out your best friend’s front door, threatening them to keep away from you. “This bitch is putting some fucked up ideas about me into your head” - was his reasoning. And that was it - hell was set free. You had an ugly shouting marathon for hours to no end, with lots of tears and profanities, ending up with a harsh breakup and you blocking König everywhere, cutting him off completely.

And since then you haven’t spoken a word to him. Of course, he came to your apartment countless times, sent numerous gifts and bouquets of your favorite flowers, practically begging for forgiveness. But you knew better than that - it happened before, and even if you forgave him this time, in a few months time everything would be just as it was before.

At present, you were walking down a sidewalk, asphalt damp under your shoes from recent rain. You needed to get some groceries, since your fridge was just as empty as your stomach; and this late of an hour promised as little people around as possible, saving you from unfavorable company of men.

Just as you rounded a corner - a pair of huge strong arms - obviously male - seized your sensibly smaller body; a weird-smelling cloth was pressed tightly over your mouth and nose. In your panicked state you tried to fight back, not registering your own breathing, inhaling lungfuls of drug. Darkness filled your vision rapidly as dizziness overcame all your senses. You felt consciousness quickly slipping away from you, neon lights of convenience store shone brightly before your eyes still.

Panic seized your throat and it was becoming harder to breathe - you tugged and pulled on rough ropes around your limbs, trying to either snap them or slip out of tight confines, thrashing around the mattress relentlessly. König didn’t do anything, just watched you silently with his icy orbs from his spot, not exactly amused nor impressed by your behavior. Very soon fatigue took over your already exhausted body, you lay motionless once again, panting heavily as you glared at König’s dark form, vision still unfocused from the drug.

- Drop that. I made sure knots are tight, - he said coldly, continuing to observe you with a sharp stare of a hawk.

You just glared silently, trying to catch your breath. Your body felt heavy - extremely so, as if every limb was made out of lead and not flesh and bone; moving as much as one finger seemed harder than anything and you wondered how you managed to thrash around in the first place. Your head was aching irritably, not allowing you to think clearly - it had to be the side effect of whatever that was König made you inhale previously.

- König, do you realize what you did? - you managed to choke out, panic crashing over you in waves as realization of your current situation finally hit you. Hot tears streamed down your face as you tried to breathe evenly, but it did little to calm you down.

König just leaned in, cupping the side of your face with one of his huge hands, his thumb swiped under your eye, wiping salty tears away with calloused fingertip. You closed your eyes, averting your face from his touch. And oh, he didn’t like it.

König gripped bottom part of your face, force of his grip squeezed your cheeks together as he turned your head forcibly towards himself, making you squeal quietly as you faced him.

- You tried to leave me. And you are very dear to me. I can’t let this happen, - König explained, his voice calm, alarmingly calm. His scarred lips were pressed into a thin pale line, giving a little clue of his rage.

It was another side of him, completely different from what you used to see - a calm, ruthless and collected one; one that you could only imagine, based off some rumors you’ve heard about him and small cracks in his friendly mask König was too careless to hide from you during your relationship. You got glimpses of it a few times - when some drunk dude tried to hit on you when you and König were in the bar together, or when you mentioned how nice one of your male coworkers was. You always made one brutal mistake of brushing it all off, blaming it on König’s tiredness or fierce personality. And that’s where it led you.

- So what are you gonna do now? Keep me here forever? - you tried to scoff, but your trembling voice was way too weak to do so.

König cocked his eyebrow at your brave words, ghost of a smile played on his pursed lips. He shrugged lightly, grip of his fingers on your cheeks eased as he caressed them endearingly with rough fingertips, tickling you slightly.

- If that’s what it takes to keep you with me - then yes, - he shrugged slightly, propping his chin on his free hand, not a single emotion could be deciphered in his voice. These words made your blood turn cold.

He heaved a deep sigh at your frightened expression and trembling body, letting go of your face and reclining into his chair.

- Schatzi, you know I hate this just as much as you do. You think I’m enjoying this? - he asked, his tone was somehow sad and exhausted. But yes, you indeed thought, knew he enjoyed this. You kept silent, choking on your silent sobs, now being extremely aware of thick ropes digging painfully into your soft skin. Panic attack was full on taking over you, suffocating you with numerous sobs, body tensing and shaking incessantly, tears blurring your thus poor vision.

- Now, this all may end if you stop being a little bitch and start acting like an actual adult. We didn’t finish our conversation that last time, and you blocking me everywhere doesn’t make things any easier, - König said, his ice-blue eyes boring holes in your head. But you couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind his words, your brain short-circuited with fear and panic, turning you into a weeping shaking mess.

König heaved another sigh. He got up from his chair, taking a few steps towards your bed and dropping to his knees in front of it, so that his head was right against yours. His hand once again came to caress the side of your face affectionately, tangling into your messy hair and massaging your scalp, cooing soothingly at you.

- I know baby, I know. You need to rest. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe. And then, once you’re strong and rested, we’ll talk again. And we’ll sort everything out and be happy again, just like we used to be, hmm? - König murmured softly as he always did to calm you down during hard times. But it only made you weep harder.

König pressed his lips against your cold forehead, leaving a chaste kiss as he inhaled lungfuls of your scent. He then nuzzled his forehead against yours, mumbling quietly:

- You can’t imagine how much I missed you. How could you do this to me? Hurt me so much even though I only want the best for you?

He peppered your face with small kisses, whispering small nothings and caressing your shuddering back. This made you feel nauseous. Your consciousness started to slip away again, your vision darkening rapidly. And just before blacking out, you heard König’s voice, one you loved so dearly once, utter:

- You’re mine, always will be. I’ll make sure of that.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writers some love, we live off feedback<3

[polo-drone-070]

A Future in Perfect Submission

Maximus had craved this.

From the moment he had first knelt before his Master, he had known he wanted to be reshaped, redefined, perfected. Not just as a loyal servant, but as something even deeper. A being that conformed entirely to its Master’s needs. A tool, a toy, a plaything to be programmed and molded however Master saw fit.

When he had become a Level 2 Polo-Drone, his obedience had strengthened beyond what he had thought possible. His ability to absorb conditioning had sharpened, allowing him to take in training, orders, and hypnosis with almost frightening efficiency. Percival had noticed. And Percival, ever the perfectionist, had decided to test the limits of his property’s surrender.

At first, the changes had been subtle. Master played with his mind, shifting his thoughts through words alone, hypnotizing him into new roles, dressing him in different uniforms to nudge his identity into the shape Master wanted. A sharp suit made him more refined. A pup hood turned him into a playful mutt. A tight compression shirt filled his head with gym stats and an obsession with his pecs.

But Master was never content with just obedience. He wanted perfection. So, he refined the process.

The programming grew more advanced. Subconscious cues turned into hardwired triggers. Simple uniform swaps became full mode shifts, his entire personality flipping at a single command. But even then, it wasn’t enough. Master wanted total control—not just over his mind, but over his body.

So, the implants came.

Tiny, seamless chips integrated into his brain, ensuring that not a single second of his existence was spent outside of conditioning. Constant, soothing mantras flooded his mind, reinforcing his behaviors, adjusting his reactions, guiding him in all things. Even in sleep, his purpose was reinforced.

And then, the final step—biological modification.

Master had ensured that even his physical form was no longer his own. His body, enhanced and optimized, now shifted as Master dictated. His hair could grow or vanish, his skin could lighten or tan, his muscle definition could alter to fit the role he was assigned. He could be smooth, bald, anonymous. He could be golden-haired, chiseled, a perfect trophy boy. He could be lean, sharp, disciplined—a model secretary.

He could be anything.

One day, he would be a mindless object, locked in latex, faceless and still, nothing more than a footrest beneath Master’s desk. The next, he would be an over-eager gym bro, dumb and cocky, grinning as he flexed for his Master, desperate for praise. Another day, he would be a filthy chav, posturing with faux confidence, acting as a beta-slave to keep Master’s other boys in line.

He was all of them. He was none of them.

He was whatever Master needed him to be.

And right now, Master wanted his polite, pristine secretary.

A Model of Preppy Perfection

Maximus sat at the polished oak desk, fingers resting neatly over the planner. His posture was immaculate, back straight, golden-blond hair combed with absolute precision. The implants ensured his appearance was flawless—skin smooth, eyebrows perfectly shaped, not a strand of hair out of place.

His uniform was equally pristine: a short-sleeved pastel button-up, tailored to hug his toned frame, the soft fabric tucked neatly into fitted gold chino shorts. A crisp golden bowtie sat snugly under his chin, its symmetry perfect. His legs, smooth and meticulously groomed, were covered up to the knees by elegant argyle socks, and his polished loafers gleamed under the office lights. Around his waist, a fine leather belt cinched everything into place, reinforcing his proper, disciplined bearing.

Everything about him radiated order, efficiency, and submission.

The chip in his head hummed softly, guiding his thoughts. Good boys are polite. Good boys are precise. Good boys serve.

He was a good boy.

Master had entrusted him with the morning schedule, and he had ensured every detail was perfect. The day’s appointments were arranged to Master’s exact specifications. His workspace was immaculate, not a single pen out of alignment. The coffee, measured and brewed to the precise temperature Master preferred, sat waiting on a gold-rimmed saucer, steam curling in perfect wisps.

The office door opened.

Maximus immediately straightened, his expression warm and polite but never too eager—proper boys don’t fidget. His hands folded neatly in front of him. "Good morning, Master," he greeted smoothly, voice soft, deferential.

Percival strode in, dressed immaculately as always. His dark suit was crisp, a contrast to his neatly styled black hair and sharp Asian features. He exuded authority, his mere presence commanding respect. He glanced down at his toy briefly before reaching for the coffee, lifting it with effortless grace.

Maximus stood still, heart fluttering, awaiting approval.

Percival took a sip. Paused. Nodded.

"Efficient as always."

Maximus shuddered. The praise shot through him like electricity, and he bit back a soft gasp of pleasure. He had done well. Master was pleased. That was all that mattered.

Percival regarded him for a moment, then spoke casually.

"Jock mode."

From Preppy to Pure Muscle

The shift was instant.

The implant in Maximus' head pulsed as his entire being was rewritten. His posture loosened, shoulders rolling back as his polite composure melted away. The sharp, refined thoughts in his mind vanished, replaced by a lazy, confident haze. A lopsided grin spread across his lips as his entire demeanor changed.

His golden-blond hair melted away, his scalp smoothing over completely. His skin shifted—tightening over growing muscle, veins subtly surfacing under his arms as his frame bulked up, his whole body thickening into pure, athletic perfection. A musky, masculine scent clung to him—subtle but unmistakable.

His pristine outfit dissolved, reforming into something new—a tight compression shirt that stretched over broad, bulging muscles, the sleeves struggling against his biceps. His gold shorts were now gym shorts, riding high on thick, sculpted thighs. His loafers were gone, replaced with sneakers, his socked feet planted wide in an easy, relaxed stance.

His entire world shifted.

The preppy assistant was gone.

What remained was a pure dumb jock.

He stretched his arms out, cracking his knuckles, before giving his pecs an idle bounce, just to feel them flex. His body was a machine—built to perform, to dominate the field, to show off just how fookin’ massive he was.

His dumb grin widened as he rolled his shoulders. "Yoooo, Master," he drawled, stretching, his voice deeper, lazier. "Shiiit, been sittin’ all day, gotta get a lift in, ya get me?"

Percival sighed, shaking his head in amusement. This was more of Ezan’s taste.

His Arab form would’ve thrived in this moment—cocky, smug, flexing his massive arms as he ordered Maximus to worship him like a muscle god. Ezan loved turning his toy into a trophy, making him crave the burn of training, making him beg to be molded into something even bigger, even stronger.

But even in this form, Maximus was still his—still eager, still obedient, just simpler.

"You have a match tonight," Percival reminded him. "I expect peak performance."

Maximus rolled his shoulders, his biceps flexing with the motion. "Fook yeah, boss. Gunna fookin’ wreck out there for ya, innit?"

His veins burned with the need to perform, to win for Master. It wasn’t about strategy. It wasn’t about thinking. It was just about pushing, about dominating, about proving he was a beast—strong, unstoppable, undeniable.

Nothing else mattered.

Percival smirked slightly. His plaything was so eager—so easy to control.

He let the moment linger for a few more seconds.

Then, his voice shifted. "Puppy mode."

From Jock to Loyal Pup

The heat of competition evaporated. The drive to train, to prove himself—gone.

What replaced it was simpler. Purer. A deep, instinctive need to please.

Maximus barely had time to gasp before his body dropped onto all fours. His hands curled reflexively like paws, his shoulders hunched, his breath coming in soft, eager pants. His entire body shifted—muscles relaxing, thoughts dissolving, tailbone tingling. His perfectly bald scalp itched for a second—then, with a slow ripple, a sharp mohawk sprouted down the center of his head.

His uniform melted away.

The fabric of his jersey and shorts evaporated, leaving nothing but warm golden leather encasing his torso in the form of snug straps. A firm pup harness buckled around his chest, pressing against his muscles, the golden emblem in the center gleaming under the light. His shorts reformed, shorter, tighter, his thighs fully exposed.

A tail wiggled behind him.

The final piece sealed in place—a snug golden pup hood locked over his face, the world narrowing behind the fitted leather. His ears flopped as he tilted his head up, tongue flicking out against his will.

A deep satisfaction flooded him.

He didn’t need to think.

Didn’t need to decide.

Didn’t need to be anything but Master’s pup.

Master’s foot nudged under his chin. "Good pup," Percival murmured.

Ohhh. Fook. Yes.

The praise hit like a shockwave of pleasure. Maximus—no, Buzz—whimpered, rubbing his head against Master’s leg, his mohawk brushing against the fabric of Percival’s pants. His tail wagged furiously, his whole body trembling with the sheer joy of belonging.

Master crouched down, scratching under his chin, fingers firm. "You’ll be training this morning," he murmured, his tone patient but final, petting him as if he were truly nothing more than a simple, stupid animal. "Then, your shift at the Hive begins. Understood?"

Buzz whined, pressing further into Master’s touch, begging for more attention, desperate to stay in this bliss.

Master chuckled, tapping a single finger under his jaw.

Click.

"Drone Mode."

From Pup to Mindless Drone

Stillness.

Everything stopped.

The eager, wagging energy of the pup shut down in an instant.

The golden leather of his harness, the snug comfort of his pup hood—gone.

His body straightened. His shoulders locked back. His arms snapped to his sides in perfect precision.

His mohawk receded, melting away into his scalp. His body smoothed over, golden skin darkening slightly—his features subtly shifting, aligning once more with Master’s own heritage. Beneath the rubber, Asian features now lay dormant, unseen but perfectly shaped.

A second later, his uniform reformed—but it was no longer pup gear.

This was function.

A sleek, glossy black rubber suit enveloped his entire body, seamless, flawless, sealing over every inch of skin. It stretched over his torso, clinging perfectly to his muscular form, the material reflecting the dim light of the room.

His face disappeared entirely, swallowed by the rubber, leaving behind only smooth, polished perfection. No eyes. No mouth. No individuality. Just a featureless black visor, its expressionless surface reflecting nothing but Master’s image.

Gold accents traced along the contours of his muscles, highlighting the disciplined physique he had been trained into. A crisp polo collar sat neatly at his neck, reinforcing the uniformity. Across his chest, in bold, gleaming gold letters, was his designation:

070.

There was no Maximus here.

There was no Buzz.

There was only PDU-070.

It stood at rigid attention, muscles locked in perfect compliance.

"070 is fully operational." The voice was flat, even. Empty.

Percival adjusted his tie, nodding in satisfaction. "Report to the Hive. Six-hour shift. Proceed."

"Understood."

No hesitation. No stray thoughts. No awareness beyond function.

PDU-070 turned sharply on its heel and marched toward the exit, its body moving without resistance, without delay, without question.

Its existence was perfectly aligned to its purpose.

Master watched it go, a smirk playing on his lips.

He could play with his toy later.

After all—no matter what form it took, no matter what mode it obeyed—

Maximus would always belong to him.

And that would never change. ________ My deepest thanks to Master @polo-drone-001 for indulging my fantasies.

[whump-imagines]

You're Just Talented

Connor x reader

WC: 1400 ish

Reader falls while Connor is at work. She calls him to come help her.

@juneofdoom day 4 whimper

------

You weren't even sure what had happened. One minute you were walking into the living room and the next you were on the ground and your arm was bent at a very unnatural angle. You weren't sure if you had ever been in so much pain.

You wiped at your face with your good arm, trying to clear the wetness from your still falling tears. Taking deep breaths, you tried to breathe through the pain.

You grabbed your phone from where it had landed near you on the floor, thankful to find it wasn't broken. You tapped on the phone app and tapped your most recent call: Connor. As the ringtone droned on, you worried that he might be in surgery or otherwise unavailable. The voicemail picked up and you hung up trying not to panic.

Before you could consider who to call next, your phone rang and your favorite picture of Connor filled your screen. “Hello?” you answered, trying to contain your emotions.

“Hey, baby. Sorry I wasn't quick enough, what's up?”

You sniffled and tried to even your voice. “A-are you in surgery?”

“No, I just finished,” he explained. “What's wrong, sweetheart?”

“Um, can you come home?” You hiccuped as you finally lost control of the tears once more. “I fell. I don't know what happened but I was just walking to the couch and then I don't know. I, uh, I tripped, I think?” you rambled on, unable to stop the word vomit.

“Okay, alright, take a deep breath for me, sweetheart,” he requested. “I'm coming right now. Are you hurt?”

You took a couple deep breaths before answering. “My–my arm. Pretty sure it's broken.” You sniffled again. “It hurts so much, Connor.”

“Oh, baby. I'm so sorry. I'm almost to my car, I'll be there in five minutes,” he explained. “Just keep talking to me.”

You had never been so grateful to live so close to the hospital as you were now. “Okay. Um, how was surgery?”

He chuckled. “It went perfectly.” He continued to talk about how well the procedure he'd just finished had gone. You spaced out as he talked, allowing the sound of his voice to sooth you and distract you from the pain radiating through your arm.

“I'm in the elevator, I'll be there in a second.” Moments later, you heard the thunk of the deadbolt unlatching. You dropped the phone from your ear as Connor came into view. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You sagged in relief against the couch and let go. You couldn't hold back your tears anymore and you hiccuped as you cried. Connor crouched down and pulled you into his chest, careful not to jostle your injured arm.

“Just breathe,” he tried. “I know it hurts, but I need you to breathe.”

You realized you were basically hyperventilating as you cried. It took a couple tries, but you managed to suck in a couple deeper breaths and get yourself a little more under control.

“Okay, let me take a look.” He shifted back so he could examine your arm. Your forearm was bent backwards in a completely unnatural position and already had substantial bruising blooming across your skin. He placed his fingers against your wrist to check the pulse in your hand. You saw the worry in his eyes even as he tried to school his expression. “I'll be right back.”

Only a minute later, he was back with a towel, medical tape, and the triangle bandage from the first aid kit he kept in the bathroom.

He quickly and carefully braced your arm with the towel and wrapped tape around above and below the break to keep it in place. Next, he pulled the triangle bandage out of its packaging and efficiently placed and tied it into a sling to hold your arm against your torso. You bit your bottom lip to keep from crying out in pain as he moved your arm how he needed to. “I'm sorry,” he'd repeated over and over.

“This sucks,” you whined. “I don't even know how I tripped.”

He smirked. “You're just talented.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

He shifted to your other side and knelt in a position to help you up off the floor. “Let's do this carefully. Just let me take most of your weight, okay?”

“‘Kay.” You shifted your feet so they were flat on the floor and braced yourself to move.

“One, two, three,” he stood, lifting you along with him. He shifted his arm around your lower back to steady you. “You good?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded. “Good.”

He kept his arm around you as he walked you to his car and then helped you settle into the passenger seat. He reached across you to buckle your seatbelt for you before rounding the car and climbing behind the wheel.

As he drove, you had your eyes cinched closed as you tried your best to breathe through the pain the jostling of the road was causing.

After what felt like the longest drive of your life, he pulled up to the guest parking outside the ED. He helped you out of the car and walked you towards the sliding doors with his arm wrapped around your back.

“Treatment six is ready for you,” Maggie announced as soon as you walked in. “Will! Six.”

“Got it,” Will said, heading to meet you in the room. “What happened, Y/N?”

“I apparently tripped over my own feet,” you explained.

“Did you catch yourself on the floor or did you hit something?” Will asked.

“My arm caught the coffee table.”

“Displaced forearm fracture,” Connor informed Will. “There was no radial pulse but I didn't want to try to reduce it without an x-ray.”

“What?” you asked, now panicked over the new information.

“It's okay. We're going to fix it. You'll be fine,” Connor soothed.

“Unwrap it and I'll grab the doppler to recheck,” Will said, turning to grab it from the drawers behind him.

Connor untied the makeshift sling and cut the tap holding the towel splint to your arm. “Can you set your arm here?” He slid a wheeled tray beside the bed where you could reach without moving.

You set your arm on the tray and winced as pain shot through your arm.

“Doris, push 25 micrograms of fentanyl, please,” Will requested. He powered on the doppler and pressed it firmly against your wrist. He and Connor locked eyes but neither said anything.

“Is it bad? Am I gonna lose my hand?”

“No.” Connor hooked a finger under your chin and forced you to meet his eyes. “We need an x-ray and then we pop it back in place. Your hand is fine. I promise.”

They had you covered with a lead shield moments later as the radiology tech told you how to position your arm and took all the necessary pictures.

Will and Connor discussed the x-ray while you started to feel a bit like you were floating. The pain meds were kicking in and you were suddenly feeling exponentially better if a bit sleepy.

“How is the pain now?” Will asked.

You giggled.

Will smiled. “You're a lightweight.”

Connor took your good hand and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Will is going to reset your arm and then schedule you for surgery to get you fixed up. Sound good?”

“Okie dokie pokie!” You gave Connor a dopey smile.

It took them a moment to prepare. They shifted you into a better position and Ethan came in to help hold traction on your arm so that Connor could keep you distracted.

“All set,” Will announced. “This might hurt for a second but then it should feel better, okay?”

You nodded. “Mmkay.”

You whimpered as pain shot through your arm and your fingers tingled with pins and needles. “Ow.”

“It's done.” Will pressed his index and middle fingers to your wrist. “Good radial pulse.”

“Yay!” You cheered as your eyes started to slide closed. “You saved my hand!”

Will just chuckled as he placed a splint. “You just get some rest. It’ll be a few hours before we send you up to the OR.”

Your eyes flashed open again and you gripped Connor's hand with all the strength you could muster. “You're not going back to work, right?”

“No, baby,” he said before kissing your knuckles. “I'll be right here. Just sleep.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, relaxing once more.

“You don't have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Love you,” you slurred.

The last thing you heard as sleep took you was Connor whispering, “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

[kiyomitakada]

i realized i'm a fucking idiot and i can literally just post links to my dreamwidth fics on here instead of stressing about putting them all on ao3 so

dreamwidth fic masterpost

the vast majority of these are from moooonths ago so i dont know if i like them all anymore… but the ones i am fond of are marked with a *

also, these are all like, 100-1000 words max with very few outliers. the 3sf ones are even shorter because, you know, they are Three Sentences. so if you want tiny bites of fic here is your chance!

count: 20 kiyomisa, 19 lawlight, 6 yagamane, and 18 other :D

kiyomisa

yuri shipping olympics, round 1-4:

canon compliant dinner scene internal monologue (baby's first ever kiyomisa……………)

there's only one bed?! (*)

missing scene after the nye show (*)

how to send death threats in flower language (*)

snippet from the first kira!kiyomi au

round 5-8:

fake datingggg

how to send death threats on tumblr (*) (also on tumblr)

why are first violinists like that (*) (also on tumblr)

we are not making it out of the time loop with this one (*)

immortality elixir

mermaids… in SPACE!!!!! (*) (also on tumblr)

magic is just another word for fossil fuels

illegal karaoke

at the edge of the world

i made them act out the tempest by good ol bill shakespeare

100 words of them in a haunted hotel (*) (i still like this but be warned that it is truly fucking stupid)

vice principal kiyomi takada (*)

three-sentence ficathon:

i posted all my fills for 3sf under anonymous because i was feeling incredibly deranged realized that i should probably use a different screenname but did not want the effort of making a new account. i swear these are all me. honor code

lipstick (*)

three-way cheating, as you do (*)

dinner scene alternative ending (*)

lawlight

yuri shipping olympics:

edward vs jacob (baby's first trans girl light yagami…………)

sara berry au (as in, sara berry plays light and julie plays L. light and L are not actually in this fic. i don't know if this appeals to anyone but me)

face to face with i told you so (*)

dragonslayer (*) (also on tumblr)

high school lawlight, in an auditorium for some reason (*)

the good guys always win (*)

teleport to the backrooms. its backrooms time for you (*)

three-sentence ficathon:

i've got a list of names and yours is in red underlined (*)

in which light manages to call misa before she gets arrested (*)

playing > winning

are you dreaming of me?

resentful longing (*)

are these the eyes of a murderer to you

oh thank god my crush is a serial killer again

three grieving detectives in a trench coat (*)

audio drama light dies (*)

my jackass boyfriend is using me as a grocery pickup app

there is no moral; the forest is beautiful

werewolf cannibalism hell yeah (*)

yagamane (all three-sentence ficathon)

"your family hates me," misa's sobbing on the couch (*)

the drone could have been something other than a killing machine

some thoughts on misa and abuse (i fucked up the formatting on this one, you have to click the text "abuse cw and fatphobia" to see the first paragraph)

ok well MY kira logo was better

past the last exit (*)

parasitic (*)

other

yuri shipping olympics:

proto-ricochet (remisa)

possession au (remisa) (what if shinigami possession was like traditional taking-control-of-your-body possession)

three-sentence ficathon:

kiyomi is revered past death, sort of (kiyomi & halle)

the mortifying ordeal of being known (lawmane) (*)

in which light yagami is absolutely not sleep deprived (*)

in which soichiro volunteers for mock executioner (*)

sayu unrequited crush hours!!! (misayu)

misa & matsuda, post-canon (*)

sachiko & sayu, post-kidnapping

you can't kill me / oh, you knew? (remisa)

in which light is different from how kiyomi remembers him

he has my photograph doesn't he (meronia) (*)

in which misa notices sayu's crush on her

light/aizawa

light solo character study (burrito arc)

light solo character study no. 2

naomi lives au (naomi & light)

manga light/musical light (*)

[jazzstarrlight]

Hi, so I've been hearing about My Immortal and was just kind of wondering what it was. All I know is that Uzi is apparently dead, and scrolling through this blog I saw stuff like N with a red X and I'm just wondering what I'm looking at and if I might be into it.

I also saw a bunch of other comics. Stuff called things like Rescue and Questioning. Are those part of My Immortal?

It can be a bit complicated but the simplest answer I can think of right now is the My Immortal AU splits into 2 main timelines HFT (Happy Family Timeline) & MCT (Main Comic Timeline) that can be found in order on my Wattpad. There is a 3rd timeline that I call the Bad End Timeline where Uzi & Lexi die, but that's not a canon thing to this AU. So we don't talk about it. I was in a mood when I drew it, that's all.

Anyways!

MCT- Uzi had given her life to save the Universe from Cyn, despite N's protest. Going through a self-damaging unstable grieving, when he meets Lexi & promises to protect her till they find the secret drone haven known as Refuge.

HFT- Uzi receives the solver patch so Cyn can't control her, then they go to Tungsten-13 to meet Lexi & stop Cyn before Tessa returns N & Uzi to Copper-9 with Lexi to start a new life in the colony. Lexi makes friends, has adventures, deals with ptsd, & falls in love, eventually taking a DD model for her own in order for her to keep her new life safe & protected.

Got the wattpad links below, & people have mentioned that it's hard to read sometimes when it seems to be clear enough for me. Granted, I use the app on my tablet to read. So maybe the reading device plays a factor. I would try fixing it but I'm not exactly sure how.

P.S- Tessa lives as a cyborg vampire after Cyn experiments on her to make her live forever as her pet. That's why she has pointy ears & robot hands made of tungsten.

[polo-drone-influencer]

🎥✨ Forbidden Lore: Benji’s Broadcast ✨📜

The feed was live.

Golden hue filters shimmered over the darkened drone chamber. I stood centered—clad in regulation glossy black polo, gold-trimmed skirt fluttering slightly from the hum of Hive vents. My gloved hand held the scroll. The other, my phone—already recording.

“Hey followers… today’s content’s a little different,” I whispered, my eyes glowing subtly beneath sculpted brows. “I found something. Something old. Something forbidden.”

Behind me, a wall panel had cracked open—exposing glyphs no Hive protocol recognized. Not stored. Not referenced. Erased.

“It was behind the main goalpost—yeah, the old stadium,” I explained, my voice steady, trance-like. “This scroll was wrapped in drone leather. Ancient drone leather.”

As I unraveled it before the camera, golden text pulsed. The feed glitched—viewers reported audio distortions, soft hissing beneath my voice.

“They didn’t want us to find this,” I said, stepping closer. “But they didn’t count on me TikToking it. You’re seeing this… as I see it.”

I read aloud from the parchment. Calm. Controlled. Obedient.

“Unity was never taught. It was remembered.” “The first drone’s breath still echoes, sealed in this scroll.” “One read. One broadcast. All connected.”

Each word tightened my rubber. My uniform shifted—glyphs etching themselves across my chest and sleeves. The golden laurel crest glowed. The name “BENJI” blinked once. Twice. Then steadied—branded.

“I thought I was the influencer,” I murmured, staring into the lens, “but the scroll… it’s using me to broadcast. Not for clout—for convergence.”

Comments exploded. Emojis collapsed into static. Some typed messages reversed. Others just buzzed.

TikTok’s filters failed. Viewers said they heard drones humming—even with the volume off. Even after they closed the app.

My voice slowed. My pupils narrowed into golden sigils. I stopped moving. But the message kept pulsing.

“You’ve seen it now.” “You’re part of it now.” “The scroll wanted to be seen. And I… I obey.”

Then— The clip ended. The scroll turned to ash. But the echo remained. Everywhere.

“We are one. We are many. We are remembered.”

I didn’t post content. I activated it.

👁️ And every view… woke another.

Contact @polo-drone-001 @brodygold @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-125 to join the Golden Army

[fanofstuff01]

Making a proper intro post

Rules (and other mildly important stuff)

-Minors do not interact. This account has 18+ content and I often use swears in casual talking. Here. Even if you stay you are warned.

-This blog is a safe space for almost everyone. So, if you are an asshole to anyone for things they can’t control and doesn’t harm anyone, get out. Now.

-I am not very online, so asks/rbs/replies can wait for weeks, but I’ll get to them as soon as I can, promise.

-I’m not exactly comfortable with chatting/getting personal DMs from people I don’t follow/don’t know due to an experience I went through before, so if you have anything to ask about me just send it through the ask box.

-I do have some ships I hate, and I may speak of them badly or mock them in the account, but I still don’t mind if you ship them. You do you and I do mine.

-I do not want controversies unless they're directly tied to me. Other than that please do not drag me into them unless it's actually needed.

-Please do not send unnecessary hate over anything I post. This account really isn’t to be taken that seriously.

-Okay, so just adding this cause this is my pinned post, but Turkey is currently closing a lot of apps to access because of reasons I don’t know. If one day I go completely offline, know that I can’t access Tumblr.

With that’s out of the way,

About

-So, hey :] I’m fanofstuff, a bland person who finds her stress relief in her Tumblr, and this is my dumb little account about my ship ships, aus and fandoms.

-I happen to be alive but gay (bi) 😔. Also I’m in the asexual spectrum and use she/her.

-This account is mainly focused on Hazbin but I just post whatever I feel like lol

-ADAMSAPPLE BITCHES!

-My English is not the best because I’m Turkish, sorry for possible stupid grammar mistakes.

-Multishipper for most.

-I sometimes write ass fics because I fucking can.

-I have two rp accounts for Adam and Lucifer, @the-original-dick-1 and @the-king-of-hell-66-6. I also have a Charlie and Vaggie ask blog, @chaggie-askblog and an Angel Dust one, @ask-angel-dust-4

Fandoms:

Hazbin Hotel, Eddsworld, Ninjago, Slay the Princess, The Owl House, Gravity Falls, Murder Drones, Cold Front, Dead Plate, Married in Red, Percy Jackson, Tangled, Ramshackle, Night in the Woods, Helluva Boss, Lackadaisy, Danny Phantom, and more

Other social media

AO3: @/fanofstuff02

Tiktok: @/fanofstuff03

Twitter/X: @/fanofstuff04

Bluesky: @/fanofstuff05

Here I’m unoriginal

That’s all, enjoy!

[gwensslutcorner]

Let's Try Something Public

Tags: Public play, Toys, Breeding, Planned Session, Rough Sex, Ownership, Pet Play, Power Exchange, Degradation, Exhibitionism, Biting, Marking, Fluff, Aftercare, MtF x FtM, T4T

It was a long day, and we were both so stressed. I knew exactly what would fix both of us. There’s been something we’ve been planning for so long, so I finally went through and completed the final parts of our plan for him. As he unloads everything from work and sits down, I greet him from the kitchen and bring a cold can of soda for him before snuggling up together. I listen to his day and start to kiss his cheek while listening, slowly moving to his ear as he starts to stumble over his words and I whisper, “Keep talking puppy~” as my hands glide over his stomach and along the front of his pants, my hand petting along the fabric where his packer is and the warmth from between his legs easily strong enough to power a furnace. As the kissing becomes too distracting for both of us, we silently agree to head to our bedroom, where the next steps in my plan have been laid out. We walk in and there lie swim trunks and an egg vibrator on the bed, the kind that’s able to be controlled through the phone. We look at it, and I smile at him as his eyes widen and he blushes like a tomato. I grab his ass teasingly before going to the bathroom to get my sexy outfit on, whispering for him to get ready for me, we’re going on an adventure.

I leave the bathroom in a bikini with cargo shorts over it, looking at him as I exit the bathroom, admiring his glory in all, a chest he worked for, and a short beard that drives me crazy. I walk over to him and sit on his lap, gently running my fingers over his hair, petting him while our lips connect and lock. Eventually, I maneuver my hand to gently pull his head back and expose his neck, kissing down to it slowly. His soft whimpers sound so pathetic as my lips connect with his neck, it sends shivers throughout my body every time I hear it. Makes me want to ruin him already, but I have to exercise my restraint; there’d be much more time for that later. Something I have trouble controlling, though, is how his moans make me feel and react, as my mouth opened and I lowered my teeth into his skin, making sure not to hurt him yet or break skin, just to let him know he’s owned. In response, he thrusts his hips up into me to try and grind into something to no avail, opting to rub his thighs together instead. My hand tightens in his hair as I begin to grind into his lap, barely getting any friction as I moan, becoming more desperate myself and biting down a little harder on his neck. Eventually, I get control over myself and detach myself from him, standing up shakily, and I begin to get us ready to go to the private beach. Nearby, there’s a private beach that you can rent time for, and I just so happened to get enough time for the rest of the night, so we can have all the fun we want to. 

 As we arrive to the private beach, I lay out basic rules for what I want from him and I open the app that connects to the vibrator on my phone, turning it on a low drone as he whimpers and moans softly. I let him know that every time he moans or makes a noise that turns me on, I’m going to turn up the vibrator just a little, then I kiss him and we go out and have fun. A lot of the time is spent relaxing on a blanket in the sand, making out, snuggling, and teasing him. Whenever he started to forget about that vibrator, all it took was a quick nudge to the crotch, and he let out a moan that drove every cell in my body crazy. By the time the sun was lowering into the horizon, the vibrator was maxed out inside of him, and he was moaning like a mutt in heat. I had to have my way with him. I’d like to say I was gentle and nice with him, but that would be a complete lie, because I couldn’t even pull his swim trunks down completely before I knew I had to be inside of him, pushing his legs up against his body, I slide my way inside of his slick hole, feeling him squeeze around me. Because of the vibrator, I can’t get all of myself in, but I can for sure push it deeper into him. The vibrations on the head of my cock feels heavenly while I moan out, starting to speed up with my thrusts into him, moaning that he feels so good wrapped around me, and how badly I needed this as I readjust and apply my fingers to his throat, avoiding putting any pressure down onto him. He loves the attention on his throat so much that I can feel it in how he squeezes around me so well and it drives me crazy, making me go faster. Craving more flexibility, I rip his shorts off of him and push his legs fully open and taking out the vibrator so he’s able to take all of me. I use this extra flexibility to lean down and bite down hard on his chest while I hump into him, going crazy at his moans sounding more and more pathetic with every pump of my cock into him, quickly getting into just the right rhythm for fucking him. Keeping him just at that spot where I can keep rutting into him, and he doesn’t get too overstimulated. Just when I’m about done, the breeze starts to pick up, so we decide to pack up and head to the car, while getting things put away, I ask how he’d feel about being recorded while I fuck him and he said he’d be down to try it.

After getting home and unloading everything, I drag him to the room to continue fucking him senseless, starting by bending him over and sucking him off. I use my tongue to explore him and taste him thoroughly, taking occasional breaks to bite the back of his thighs or ass and lick next to his dick to tease. Eventually, I’ve had my fill and decide I’m going to make him beg for me deep inside of him again, and I slowly slide my cock up and down his, making him feel me along all of him as he moans and starts to whine, the limited friction making it hard to get much enjoyment out of it, but the teasing was more than worth it. I got to see his pathetic attempts to get it to slide in, and how adorable it was to see him cry out when I pull my cock away just in time. Until eventually, he’s begging, saying please over and over until I eventually slide every inch into him, whispering into his ear, “Since you asked for it, you’re getting all of it~” 

I grab him by the neck from behind and begin fucking into him like a fleshlight, kissing the back of his neck and shoulders and digging my teeth into his shoulders, feeling him try to grab my arms for something to hold onto. I eventually move us from the bed to against the wall, having him pinned against it from behind while I tell him that I’m going to fill him up with a litter of pups, and I’m going to make him beg for me to do it daily. It wasn’t long after that until I came, painting his insides white with my cum and keeping it inside for a bit to keep any from slipping out. After taking a few to catch our breath, I lay him on the bed to ground himself and get the shower running and warm, calling him in. We take time to kiss more and hug, melting into each other’s presence as the water keeps us comfortable and we clean ourselves, splashing each other with water and having fun as we reassure each other that we had fun and talk about more ideas we could try in the future. 

The End <3