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gatorgumz · 9 months

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Our trio of heroes from beamsaber campaign Operation Meteor!!! Liena ❤️ Azul 💙 Otter 💛 popstars by day, mecha pilot hitmen by night

And bonus doodles of them waking up.

#operation meteor #beam saber #beam saber ocs #ocs #mecha oc #original character #ttrpg

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soviejames · 4 months

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Displate collection so far. Just ordered two more from Dune & MGS

#custom #gundam wing #gundam #mobile suit gundam #sinanju #displate #poster #metal #art #wingzero #operation meteor

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monty-glasses-roxy · 10 days

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So. That new version of Meteors AU is just pure shenanigans btw. All the actual plot of that would be in the background, they're just fucking around. They don't know what they're doing. Vanessa, Luis, the construction crew and Cassie are all that stand between them and testing whether or not real life has fall damage and trying to see if they can dig through solid concrete and asphalt with their bare claws. They get to know all the Sewerhell guys. They have actual, real life horses now and they don't know how to horse. Someone found a worm and they're throwing a worm party now.

They're making the now closed forever Plex a home now. They're solving the crimes of Fazbear whilst asking if you can eat metal bolts. 393 Mini Music Men are getting a bed time story from Vanessa while Cassie convinces her dad to let Roxy, Mangle and Chica come home with them for a sleepover. There's a whole group of them rallying the construction crew for more windows in the plex and some genius gives them a computer with Windows 95. That's 95 whole windows don't you know!

You see what I'm saying? The original Meteors was a similar thing and the post-Ruin Meteors was a lot more mixed and plot focused, but this one? Pure shenanigans. Vanessa's Home for the Magic Talking Animals.

#you get me?#I should call this version of meteors that lmao #meteors au: vanessa's home for talking animals #the plex is like a dorm now #a community building! full of ammenities that none of them know how to operate anymore!#yes. they have to learn how to cook. and clean. and everything else.#they're suffering through the Horrors now lmao #they have a lot of help though so they're good

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fishing-lesbian-catgirl · 4 months

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People who don’t know anything about Arknights ONLY, take a guess:

There is only 1 correct answer

If you know the answer, please don’t guess. But feel free to reblog!

#poll #Arknights name poll #someone said the last one was fun and suggested to do another

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moonstruckme · 5 months

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I cannot stop thinking about this looking at Sirius after he says something stupid and saying “you’re so pretty baby”

Hi haha not sure if this was what you meant but hope you enjoy <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 662 words

It’s hardly more than a murmur, the barest whisper of speech rising above the soft nighttime symphony of crickets and frogs as you and Sirius lay in the grass looking up at the starry sky.

“I think I could bench press the moon.”

It takes a blink for you to process that, and even then you’re still not sure you’ve heard him right. “You what?”

“I think I could lift the moon,” Sirius says in the same contemplative, tranquil voice. “Like, if I had to. With the way gravity is up there, it can’t be that hard, right?”

A smile starts to form on your lips, and you turn your head to look at your boyfriend. “Oh, so you mean that if you went up into space and got below the moon, you think you’d be able to lift it?”

Sirius seems to think for a moment. Then he nods, still facing the sky. “I mean that if we were to somehow get a bench up there below the moon, I think I could bench press it. I’m not saying it’d be easy, but I could do it.”

“You know there are, like, meteors that crash into the moon and don’t move it, right?” It’s impossible to keep the laughter out of your voice at this point, and Sirius looks over with a frown. “You think you’re stronger than a meteor?”

“Maybe the meteors just haven’t tried the right angle.”

You sigh dreamily, lifting a hand to brush your knuckles delicately across the fine plane of his cheekbone. “Sirius, baby,” you say, running a silken strand of hair between your fingers, “you’re so pretty. So, so pretty.”

Dark eyebrows rise, and Sirius’ lips curl into an odd half-smile. “I know I am. Are you calling me dumb?”

“No, not dumb.” You pull your lips to one side, toying with his hair while you think. “Just…not always the sharpest crayon in the box.”

He laughs darkly. A giddy static goes through you, and it takes some effort to keep up your placid facade as you curl a piece of hair around your finger.

“So you’re the brains of this operation, huh?” he asks you slowly.

You hum. “If you say so.”

“And you don’t think I could bench press the moon. I’m dumb and weak, is that it?”

“Sirius,” you laugh. “I don’t think anyone could bench press the moon. It has its own gravity, and I’m not totally sure how that works but I’m pretty sure it means you can’t just toss it around like a beach ball.”

“You think I’m not strong.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No,” he allows, calm settling over his features in the split second before he strikes, grabbing one of your hands in his and then the other as he rolls on top of you. “You just think my looks are all I’m good for. Did I get that right, sweetheart?”

You laugh, trying to use your legs to push him off, but Sirius pins down your thighs with his knees. “I’m just saying,” you giggle, “it’s a good thing you’re pretty. Can’t you just accept the compliment?”

“Oh, so that’s all I am to you.” His voice is scornful, but a playful mirth gleams in his eyes. “Just a hot piece of ass for you to strut about, huh?”

“Maybe,” you bait, giggles worsening when he nips cruelly at the skin below your ear. “You’re like my trophy boyfriend.”

Sirius squints down at you, and he really is lovely, all dark hair and brows that contrast against his pale skin. He looks like someone’s charcoal drawing come to life. The work of a very skilled artist, certainly.

He grins. “Fine,” he says, voice all smoothed out by certainty. “You can be the brains, honey, and I’ll just sit pretty. But that means it’s your job to figure out how to get me and a bench to the moon, because I’m gonna prove your smart ass wrong.”

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yandere-wishes · 24 days

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𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 ℍ𝕚𝕘𝕙

❤️‍🩹Characters: Yandere! MH Ghouls x GN! Reader

❤️‍🩹Summary: There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. You're an eldritch creature living amongst monsters. A piece of you lives within each of them. And a piece of each of them lives inside you...

❤️‍🩹Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Body horror in Frankie's part, slight gore and blood in the rest, angst, super cryptic.

❤️‍🩹Could be read as romantic or platonic.

I am a monster, for now and forever. I am a monster, what a terrible being.〜♡॰ॱ

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. ~❣✧❣

⚡︎Frankie Stein ⚡︎

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. Frankie is desperate to unravel it. To crack it open. She feels you in every one of her limbs. Feels you in the stems of her patchwork heart. That has to account for something right?

Your melancholy seeps through you, tainting the tiles in shades of gold.

Frankie blames the binding of your skin, she's always found it too loose.

Nothing extramundane, to tether your essence within yourself. She wouldn't mind taking you apart and stitching you back together. Recreating you into something perfect. She's grown wry of watching you crack your ribcage open, shoving astral celestials where your heart should be. You mutter things, things she doesn't understand, things she's scared she'll never understand. Her bones rattle, a rouge spark runs down her spine. Every piece of you haunts her...

Frankie use to believe, verily childishly, that parts of her were salvaged from you. She knows now that that's impossible, yet she still wishes every night for the childish dream to come true.

In many ways, Frankie has always been bound to you. Your first friend, your first confidant, your first punishment, your first comprehension. Even when you'd been too young to understand the cacophony of the world, you'd still know the two of you were connected.

It had only taken a lifetime to understand why.

Bones collapse into constellations. Somehow she feels you slipping away. Her slender fingers trace the stitches across the hollow of your chest. A meteoric reminder of her work. "It's okay I'll have you fixed in no time." Frankie doubts you find any truth in her incentive. You've always been drawn to pessimism. Still, she feeds the needle through skin and muscle. Praying she remembers the stronghold pattern her mother taught her.

The shade they used for your blood is too bright. You bleed in rivers,

flowing with no end insight. You wash away her sorrows with farfetched promises. Awakening a longing, she never knew she had.

Frankie wishes she could pluck out your spine. Kiss each vertebra like an iridescent pear. Maybe then your souls would tether, maybe then everything will go back to the way it once was. The needle snags across bones, marring your skin in star-kissed bruises. She pecks each one, muttering a sorry across cold flesh. You feel like home under her lips. A home she never got to know.

Yet the echoes of its brilliance linger faintly in the hearts of those who once knew its warmth.

Frankie smiles as your eyes crack open. Dizzy and distant, you've yet to notice your enhancements. The pieces of herself she tethered onto you. She wonders when you'll notice the new eye, the new leg, the mismatched fingers. Her heart sparks thumbing loudly in her ribcage.

She sinks down, by the operation table,skinning her knees. You feel like home, now more than ever.

Your fingers find her head, patting the matted hair, she smiles something solemn and forlorn. She trails her fingers over one of the stitches on your arm, prying her slender digits between the threads and into the gaping tissue. Her fingers release a spark, your body arches off the table. After all, blood has always been a good conductor for electricity. "It's just a power boost. You'll be right up in a few minutes." a giggle rips from her throat, as you mummble an acknowledgment. Eyes overcast with equal parts grief and glee.

She always knew she loved you how could she not? You'd been linked to her for as long as she had a conscience. You had always been her everything. Sometimes she wonders how you both ended up like this. Stitching pieces of yourselves into each other.

Frankie closes her eyes. Her mind struggling to regain control. Her deep breaths waver as she hears shifting from the table.

"It's alive..."

𓆩❤︎𓆪Draculaura𓆩❤︎𓆪

Draculaura can smell the ethereal ichor now. Maybe it's always been there. Hidden under bygone layers and golden sand. She wonders if now, knowing what you know, makes you see her as anything less. You're older now, smarter. Maybe you understand the world just a little bit better than she ever could.

Despite her gifted immortality, Draculaura likes to think that she's grown, too. No longer the little batling who faints at the mere scent of blood. Yet the urge to vomit is still there, an acidic reflex in the back of her throat. She's been avoiding you lately, simply because you make the urges go away.

She can't live with that.

Can't live with what you make her.

You trace the heart on her cheek. Your fingers feel like divinity sinking into her skin. You try to reason with her, tell her the truths of the crypt. "Surly Draculaura, you must know who you really are. Isn't it silly that you persist in this nativity?" Your words are harsh. Good intentions wrapped in silver blades. She bites her tongue, killing the queries before they dare spill.

You make her crave things.

Things she's avoided her whole life.

There's blood on your lips, dripping onto the ground. She fights the urge to kiss you. The heat of the sun amplifies the scent of the decaying flesh. Her stomach growls, this isn't right. The grip on her parasol tigtens. There is justice behind your actions, not one she can make herself understand. She watches as you tear into the decomposing body. "Don't", it's nothing less of a prayer. She feels her fangs elongate. How she wishes the world would turn to black.

Can a vampire be haunted?

Surly they can, it's the only answer to your staunch lingering.

Draculaura's coffin feels too snug, like a home and a prison encapsulated in one. She wishes she could feel cold dirt under her nails, feel the thrill of digging her way out of a grave. It's your fault, it has to be. Why must you awaken such ancient sensations? Such horrid cravings, such primal needs.

Why must she see divinity in your face, liquid darkness shimmering behind enigmatic eyes? You are something terrifying, something painful. You are what she was supposed to be, what she's fled from her whole life.

Your silhouette is a curse and a blessing. A reminder of a lineage she was thrusted into. A legacy she never wanted. Everything about you is a hunting familiarity for a family she never knew. She wonders if she would have been the prettiest girl in the morgue. She wonders if her father should have let her die all those eons ago.

"I used to be human" She confesses one night. She doesn't know why you agreed to come over. Why seeing you in your pajamas sparks one too many fond memories.

"So?" your tone is one of perplexity. She feels foolish under your gaze. You glide the makeup brush across her cheeks. dusting them with faded nostalgia. "I can't eat them. It'll feel like I'm eating myself" How long has it been since the transformation occurred? how long has it been since she shedded the body of that sickly fragile girl? She's been a vampire for centuries yet still can't get used to the title.

"You can eat these ones..." Something ancient within her stirs, her bones rattle with comprehension. She knows what you mean and it fills her with a need to scream.

Draculaura can't see her reflection, can't gauge how different she is now. You used to help her with her makeup back in high school. Back when the shade of your lipstick determined your personality for the day. She's never seen her face. She prays it's identical to yours. She prays that someday she can embody you...

There's a deathly hunger within her. Bubbling in her stomach. She needs to let it out before it kills her. Can she even die? She's almost sure she wants to. You almost make her want to succumb to the impulse of quitting her humanity all toghter. Your presence makes her all so hungry. She's gotten better at hiding it under school-ghoul gossip and trend talk.

She settles for a kiss tonight, a rushed peck on the cheek. Some vampire she is, instead of bleeding you dry she's pouring her sorrows into you. She wonders if you take note. See the ghosts jouncing within her soul.

Draculaura's nails pick at the skin of her birthmark.

The skin cracks.

blood trickles.

Can a vampire even be haunted?

Yes.

She knew the charade wouldn't last forever.

Knew that one day the lights would dim and the stage would fade to black

A final curtain call. An impending doom.

The final nail in her glass coffin. Rendering it to shards.

And she'll be left plucking fragments from her eternal flesh.

There's a small joy in knowing you'll be her effacer.

The one to put an end to 2,000 years of pretend.

"And then he was all like "You know?" and I was like "Whatever" and he was-"

"Draculaura, I have no idea what you are talking about." She turns to face you, your smile is a crushing weight. On her shoulders crave. You throw your head back and laugh. Laughing at how little she's changed since you shared a desk in class. Since your most eminent concern was fearleading practice and algebra tests. Draculaura should laugh too, this she knows. Yet she remains distracted by your neck and all the glory it holds.

Just a small bite won't hurt...

☾🐾☽Clawdeen Wolf☾🐾☽

Clawdeen is protective to a fault. A trait she could never identify as innate or habit. Still, the urge to stalk you persists. Pricking away at her fur like wolfsbane.

Clawdeen's been brought up to believe in legacy, to worship the moon and the stars and their maker. Ancient things have a way of lasting lifetimes. She knows this now, finds its evidence when she unravels her family, her pack, herself...you. Her kind has been known to nurture those they love, to birth and raise every great warrior. She ponders again if this was originally encrypted in their blood or if her species picked it up throughout the years.

All she knows is that something inside her awakens when she sees you. A testament to an ancient love, long since stifled under sand and snow.

She wonders if that's what she's done with you all these years. If, in her own way, she's raised you to become some sort of warrior, a great beast living amongst subsidiary.

The two of you sit beside the bay window. Her newest sketchbook draped across her lap. You lean in resting your head on her shoulder, listening as she explains the inspiration behind each design.

You feel like you've been mauled. A piece of you thrown in every direction. Only to morph into the creations of your hunter. "You remember your first design?" you ask, closing your eyes to still the world. "Wasn't that when we wrapped Howleen in a red blanket and my mom's scarf?" Her claws prick her upper lip as she stifles a giggle. "And made her walk around the house like it was a Scaris runway" You add, relishing in the bygone recollection.

Your childhood memories together are coated in ichor. Jejune days

when you'd watch her tumble over herself trying to be everything she could never be. Even back then, you'd known something was amiss with the world. Seen the ancient wolf that lay dormant within her. felt its bonds call out to you, pulling you in deeper. You'd cling to her like a frightened child to a teddy bear.

But you're older now. Instead of the scared child, you've turned into the monster under the bed. Funny how everyone's heritage catches up with them at some point. Even when you grow unaware of its presence. Legacy still tends to echo in your bones. You're both the same in that regard.

"I can never tell if I'm alive or dead." You tell her one night.

"Neither" Clawdeen's voice is rigid, stiff. She can feel your awakening and rebirth. It sings in her head, more vital than a howl. "creatures like us don't die so easily. We only transform." She remembers the legends, the wars, they rattle in her bones sending shivers up her spine. Neither of you have ever died. You've survived every tribulation.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" you reply, Clawdeen notes the embers that burn behind your eyes. How they spread across your body like a wildfire.

"What doesn't kill me, simply gives me a reason to kill it" She swears she sees the moon flicker in retort.

Clawdeen slits her throat with her claws.

Choking on moondust and half-fallen stars.

Her father once told her heritage is everything before giving her a golden ring fashioned as a wolf's head. She still doesn't know what he means.

She knows her kind was born from misplaced love.

She's just glad your fates are entwined.

"Someday you'll have red eyes." You trace your thumb over her lashes as you speak. Trailing down to play with her curls. She knows what you mean. Oh how, she wants to devour the hope you offer so freely. Rip it from your heart and feel it pulsing under her fangs. Maybe then her stars will align and she'll truly understand what she is.

Clawdeen's feelings grow teeth, gnawing at her carnivorously as she pulls you close. Muttering a 'thanks' as if it holds the weight of the world. There's comfort in the thought that she's molded you. Helped nourish your flames until they grew so potent. She's ever only been the middle child of the moon. But with you, she feels like so much more. Like something celestial, something ancient. An heirloom made of blood and moonrock.

Above you the clouds part. Giving way to the full moon.

₊˚.༄Lagoona Blue₊˚.༄

The air in her lungs feels synthetic, dry. She chokes off the sand and ozone, blinded by the unfiltered light, leaving burns on her frail, scaled, skin. She wonders if this is how a fish feels as it's being reeled on land. She wonders if she's any different now.

Her heart hammers when she sees you, cracking her ribs in hysteria.

Water lilies bloom from their marrow, she counts them just to distract from the stars burning in your eyes. Her teeth catch her bottom lip, gnawing the pink flesh like a shark does its prey.

Her eyes burn when she catches a glimpse of you by the pond. Gazing conflicted at three-eyed frogs. She can't help but see you as a cacophony of unmarked graves. Too many ghosts linger across your body, they're prints evident in the afternoon sun.

You leave a water lily behind her ear as you brush past her in the hallway. She thinks your perfection is exaggerated, artificial like the air. The kind daydreaming divers pray to find in rogue oysters. Lagoona is sure you're the last of your kind. An endangered creature too proud to ask for help. She clumsily fingers the flower's petals. The wave of nostalgia that invades, has her gasping for air.

The ocean she once called home is overrun by rot. She too is infected by the pollution that plugs her gills. In her dreams, she treads through clean oceans, webbed fingers entwined with yours. There is no corrosion here, no death. Just you and her and everything that entails the definition of good. When she wakes up she notices that her gills are falling one by one. Pastel blue glints scattered, floating across her bed like the empty husks of sea stars.

She too is the last of her kind.

She too is destined to perish in agony.

She wonders if you hear her tears. Hear them fall into the abyssal sea. Feel their reverberations as they create rings on the surface. She can't expect such a thing from you. You're in your own world struggling with your own scars. You left her another flower today, nymphoides indica, she doesn't understand what you're trying to tell her.

The pond has started to bleed too. Its decaying scent is pungent from miles away.

has it bled into her?

Is she infected too?

You're there again today, worlds apart yet close enough to touch. Her body stiffens as she kneels next to you. Desperate for your attention, desperate for you to tell her what she is. Maybe, just maybe she can confess her love in time to share a grave with you.

"I used to be so beautiful.." Your voice sounds evasive. A final cry for help before the ocean consumes you. Your reflection in the pond is muddled over. A glitch in reality, something Frankie would have more experience with. "you still are mate…you still are" Her words are earnest, yet she doubts they bring you solace. "If it's any consolation, I'm polluted too..". You laugh so condescending it makes her stomach churn. She rolls the words in her mouth again, tasting them for misunderstandings.

"We're all polluted Lagoona. We always have been."

You're made of one too many pieces, all doused in poison. You rearrange the water lilies on her head. Your fingers feel like home threading through her hair. "The last of our kind." Lagoona giggles, her body is growing dryer, desperate, the moisturizer and hydration station have long since stopped working. Now she awaits the poison to take over fully. You're her memento mori another helpless creature awaiting death.

And yet, to her, you're still as radiant as the first day she met you.

Lagoona's grave will be in the sea. It's a last wish one you decide to honor. You kiss her on the cheek as she turns to you. Body half submerged in her home. She hugs you, with all the longing her frail corpse can muster. It's only too late when you notice that you too are being submerged. Dragged into the eternal depths. Lagoona refuses to part with you. This is her final gift, the last present she will give you. A quick and painless death. One with a comforting presence.

Her father used to tell her strange tales of bizarre men who'd come to their ancestrial home, seeking answers far too advanced for them. She wonders if she's had the answers all along. Maybe she just had to look a little deeper.

It doesn't matter now. For her final breaths, she is at peace. She is content to end like this. With you in her arms.

𓂀𓆣☥Cleo De Nile☥𓆣𓂀

Cleo likes to think she's come a long way from her former self. No longer an autocrat cheerleader with stary eyes and a need to be worshipped.

She likes to think she's filled out the role of queen, of sovereign, of absolute.

She's done her dynasty proud...

Shattered and transformed herself into the perfect vessel.

It's not until she catches her rogue reflection in the gleam of your eyes, that she realizes she's still the same. Eons have passed yet Cleo still remains the same frail cowardly daughter bearing the burden of the D'Nile name.

You look every bit a queen, a sovereign, an absolute. You've grown to fill the role you never knew you had.

Cleo bleeds gold. She always has.

Little did she know, you did too.

You always had.

There's a crushing weight, something that makes her long for entombment. "I wish I were a mere child once more." her tone is sand on sand. So faint you think it nothing more than a mirage of sound. Her head lays on your lap bleeding out her sins as she prays for the sun to melt her. Feeble, unstable thing she is. Hailing from a feeble unstable place.

Maybe it would do you both some good to forgo the past. To embrace a thundering, grotesque future. Maybe it's time to retire the thrones and gold bangles. Maybe it's time to depart.

she laughs at such a preposterous notion.

Cleo's Icoffine lays in a pool of shards and wires and golden beads. Her bandaged fingers wrapped tightly around your bicep, tugging you closer until the scent of spices and flora became overbearing. "it's...okay" you lie through the rage bubbling in your throat. Through the tears that sting the corners of your eyes. "It's not-it's...it's never been okay", the words feel like boulders crushing her bones. turning her body and bandages back to dust.

You've known Cleo to always wear a broken crown. Funny how, after a millennia, the cracks still keep growing. Only now they bleed into her corpse, cut through bandages, and aim for the heart. You want to wipe her tears away. To whisper glory and purpose into her bejeweled ears.

Cleo lies on the golden floor. It's cold, frigid, she doesn't remember gold to be so unwelcoming, so petrifying. You pull her hand to your heart, hovering above her. Watching as she melts and hardens in the same breath.

"Allow me the pleasure of death once more. Allow me the luxury of being the only monster you ever have to know." Cleo doesn't remember missing her sarcophagi so much. Her lungs fill with broken promises as her eyes sting from mulish obsoletes. "I've been so blind for so long." She confesses, free hand fiddling with the jewels on her blouse. Running them along her nails waiting to see which will scratch first. "As have I, there's no need to-" her voice is harsh as she sits up. The undead rising from its bejeweled grave. Her hands cup your face. She tries to be gentle, to cradle you like a flower petal. "I'm-I-" her breath hitches as her fractured mind screams. "I hate myself all so very much. Yet I love you with every bit of the heart I thought I lost all those millennia ago."

Chaos has a way of squirming through her veins.

Her dreams are tainted in rubies, seeing you lying in the sand.

The noise above is defining. She hates that she's not used to it by now.

It can't be fair.

The world can't take you from her.

You're the only lifeline she has left.

The only hope that remains.

You tell Cleo you want to die one starless night, she understands the sentiment. You don't know why that makes you cry. Her lips leave phantom kisses across your eyelids. Spilling gold pleated secretes into your skin. Cleo wishes she kept you entombed next to her, rotting away far from every disaster. Yet she knows she can't, not now at least. You've morphed her into her purpose better than her omnipotent father and cruel sister ever could. With you by her side, she's truly become a queen, a sovereign, an absolute. While you rein above her, some all-knowing creature who she can't help but worship.

Maybe someday, decades from now.

The love you share will be dethroned

How unlikely such a feat seems.

Taglist: @hadesnewpersephone @feedmestraycats @deathangelraven @itotallysleepenough @yuuka29 @umgatochamadopercyval

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kc5rings · 7 months

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It’s my profound pleasure to announce the top 5 of Rhodes Island’s annual pole dancing contest, our winners are!

1. Operator Laurentina for the 3rd year in a row is our champion with her signature “Solo Duet” performance!

2. Operator Myrtle placed a strong second this year with an energetic performance, looking to reclaim her former title one day!

3. Operator Elysium is our 3rd place winner despite being a fan favorite to win this year, a crowd favorite but not quite so for the judges

4. Ling took 4th place in her very first time competing! Impressive work and I honestly can’t say if she would have done better or worse had she been sober

5. Last but certainly not least we have Operator Meteor in 5th place with a classic very physical performance, not bad for someone who joined on a whim!

Disqualified contestants and reasons for DQ recorded for posterity

Operator Matoimaru: Broke the pole

Operator Midnight: Pro in an amateur event

Operator Sora: Same as above

Operator Projekt Red: 10 injured

Dusk: Nian signed her up

Operator Deepcolor: Attempted hypnosis of judges

Operator Tequila: Attempted manipulation of betting pools

Operator Gladiia: Performance too fast for judges to see

Operator Blaze: 1 injured (herself)

#hope to see everyone back to compete next year!#Organized by Nian and Beanstalk #arknights #anyway I had a sudden empty hour at work so you all get to see this

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gojoidyll · 3 months

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electric love ch. 2

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Summary | In a technological advanced world where ai and virtual reality overrun the populace, a certain synthetic being learns what love was all thanks to a human woman.

Warnings | grammatical errors, gojo being a little flirt, etc.

electric love masterlist

There were many times in your life where you wished that you would just die by some freak accident. Or die by a meteor hitting you so precisely that you were the only casualty. However, death does not come for those who wish for it, as the old saying goes.

10:30 AM on the dot.

You straightened out your clothing and tried your best to calm your thrumming heart that seemed to want to beat right out of your chest.

This job that Ayakazhi accepted from THE Gojo Satoru could literally get you killed.

And yet, it was a job you had to do nonetheless.

You waved your wrist in front of a scanner by the door which made the door dematerialize a split second later when your identity was confirmed through the security system.

"Good morning, I'll be the AI specialist helping you today."

You remembered a time within college where you had to take a human & ai interaction course. The teachings were interesting, to say the least. The course basically went over how despite the ai being mere androids, it was best to still treat them as human. Treat them as beings who could never achieve what they truly want.

So you don't say "I'm here to fix you, or repair you" when talking with an android. You say "I'm here to help you. Here to see what's wrong." Like how a doctor sees to a human patient.

"Morning doctor," the ai replied smoothly, a lilt in his voice as he scanned you. You couldn't help but to laugh lightly at that, "sorry, but I don't have a doctorate. L/n or y/n will be just fine."

Once you made sure your equipment was all prepped, you finally steeled yourself to look at him. And you couldn't stop the way your breath hitched at the sight.

The android in front of you was beautiful. White locks of hair perfectly framing his face despite jutting out in different directions, giving him a messy hairstyle look. Crystal blue eyes that glinted in the light, a pair of sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. His skin looked so smooth too, almost looked soft to the touch. He looked human. Too real. Too here.

As for his clothing, he wore a simple pair of black dress pants along with a white button up. His jacket was discarded to the chair beside him as he was sitted on the operation bed (much like a bed you would find in a doctor's office).

Now, you had heard that Gojo was beautiful, but since you couldn't afford a TV or the subscription to a digital newspaper, you were always left wondering hiw truly this artificial being was. You weren't disappointed to say the least, but now you couldn't help but to feel self conscious about your own clothing.

A simple blue sweater with a few holes in it, jeans that were worn at the bottoms, shoes that looked like they were about to fall apart at the seems.

Honestly, you wished you could go buy fancy and expensive clothes right now cause you couldn't help but to feel a bit underdressed despite this being an appointment.

"I'll call you y/n then, if that's alright."

You nodded as you maneuvered your fingers in a certain way so that a screen would appear in front of you.

"That'll be alright Mr. Gojo. Now, I was briefly told why you're here and why you chose this ... particular place, so let's just start with the basics, shall we? I don't know if you read my form or not, but I typically like to get to know my patients and i would like them to get to know me as well before I try to help them because I don't want you to feel uncomfortable in any way while I work on you."

You took a seat in an abandoned chair so that you were now sitting across from him.

Gojo merely grinned, "actually, that's exactly why I picked you. As I was scanning through possible specialists, I found your profile and thought you were a good fit. In fact, you got some good reviews, too. Not a single person was left unsatisfied after getting a check-up from you. So I couldn't resist when choosing this place."

You smiled at that, "I'm glad to hear that. Makes me a little less nervous."

"Nervous? What do you have to be nervous about?"

You gave him an are-you-serious look to which he laughed at.

"Alright, alright," he said, "point taken. No need to say anything."

He waved his hands in front of himself in surrender.

His laugh is so ... realistic. You wondered how many diagnostic checks and calibrations he had to go through in order to get his voice and even his laughter to sound so human.

Was it alright to even ask that...?

As for Gojo, he seemed to pick up on your unasked question. He could see it in your eyes.

"It took a few years."

"Pardon?"

"My laugh, my voice. You're wondering how I managed to get it to sound so realistic, right?"

You blushed as you had gotten caught, "yes, I'm sorry Mr. Gojo. I know it's an impolite question."

He shook his head, "think nothing of it. In fact, I welcome the curious mind. Besides, it's just as you said, right? Let's get to know each other."

You nodded your head. Your focus solely on him.

"As I said, it took a few years and many, many tests. Of course, I first started adjusting my voice to sound more human back in my childhood years. That way, I wouldn't have to worry later down the road."

"Childhood years, Mr. Gojo?"

"Yes, as you've probably heard we androids you typically like to feel more human have different models. For example, I was 'born' 28 years ago. So at certain years of my life, I would have different bodies. Like ... I had a body of ten year old when it was my tenth year 'alive'."

You nodded again, a hand coming to your chin as you thought over his words, "I think I understand. So do you still have your previous models? Like the bodies of your past years."

"Of course not, they were destroyed."

"Do you typically make a new model of yourself after each birthday?"

"No."

"Is this your actual body for when you're 28, or is this your body from a previous year?"

"Actually, as it turns out, this is my newest body. So yes, this is my 28 year old body."

"Ah, I see, I see. So when do you plan on making a new model?"

"Probably when I turn 35 or so, maybe even 40 if i feel like it."

You chuckled at that, "why not stay 28 forever?"

He shrugged and leaned forward, his lips upturned in a mischievous grin, "that wouldn't be very human of me, now would it?"

You laughed at that, "good point, Mr. Gojo."

Gojo clapped his hands together, "my turn to ask a question!"

"Fire away."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

You were quick to erupt in a fit of giggles, "what a flirt!" You managed to say between breaths.

Gojo merely looked appalled and offended, a hand placing across his chest where his heart would be as he gasped, "I think the question was fair!"

But he started grinning and laughing with you nonetheless. Which was how your conversation went throughout the rest of the appointment.

12:00 PM.

You glanced at the time as you stood up, "well, that concludes our first appointment."

"Oh," Gojo inquired, "but we didn't exactly do anything, well, not unless you count our riveting conversation."

You grinned and patted his shoulder, "of course. As I said I like to get to know my patients before we start anything. Just like how I want my patients to know me. When I check your systems, I don't want there to be any mistrust or grievances between us. You'll be in a vulnerable state and I don't want you to feel as if I'm taking advantage of you in any way, which is why the first appointment is usually us talking to each other."

You materialized a screen in front of him, "so, if you want to schedule your next appointment, you may. But you don't have to if you wish for someone else. Oh, and you don't have to pay for this first appointment either since I didn't help or perform a check-up on you.

Gojo nodded along as he looked at the screen that was materialized in front of him. Raising one of his hands, he gently pressed down on the 'schedule a new appointment option', which immediately brought up a calendar. He smiled at that.

"Something wrong?"

"It's just, I notice how you're allowing me to pick a date to schedule. Most specialists and doctors I know usually pick a date for me and others."

You shook your head at that, "well, I'm the type of person who likes giving my clients the freedom to choose their days. Be it at 3:02 AM in the morning on a Saturday. Or at 5:46 PM on a Tuesday."

Gojo let his eyes scan over you again before choosing a day.

Two days from now at 10:30 AM.

"Awesome, now just sign here, and...I guess I'll see you then," you said as you sent him a polite smile.

He was quick to sign his name at that, and when he grabbed his jacket, he looked at you one last time before leaving, "before I go, I never did get that answer to my first question."

"Hmm?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

That same playfulness reached both his voice and eyes, and you couldn't help but chuckle lightly, "no, I don't."

"Glad to hear it. Now, i guess I'll see you Wednesday, Little y/n."

electric love taglist | @wooasecret @itzmeme @whore-for-hawks @mrowwww @dearmy-diary @akisesgf

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo x you #yandere gojo x y/n #yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader

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juneibyou · 5 months

Text

big scary meteor discovered heading straight for london. current official plans are unknown however tower bridge operators have been overheard planning to play "big pinball"

#text

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

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Being a shared darling between Chrollo and Feitan, just imagine the whiplash going between each of those living conditions 😭

fortunately, with chrollo's timely intervention, you're saved from a fate of breathing in mold and mildew. they compromise on abandoned homes with faculties that still operate (probably solar powered). honestly, it's not so much that feitan wants you to suffer and waste away, it's more that he has no idea how to properly look after another human being. he thinks the basement with a broken lightbulb, dripping pipe, and lively mice infestation is heaven compared to the conditions in meteor city. he'll defer to chrollo's judgment on the matter of where you should occupy your time.

if you're ever being disagreeable though (and feitan's definition of disagreeable is notoriously vague), he might order you to come join him in his fun little torture basement. he even cleaned most of the gore off. he just... pulls up a rickety old wooden chair... tells you to sit... and asks what you think of his equipment. chrollo makes sure you're up to date on your tetanus shots before giving his okay for you to go wandering down there.

chrollo comes back from getting groceries or whatever to you both sitting in total silence in the basement. he gets this fond, almost nostalgic expression. the next time feitan slinks off to do whatever it is he does (you never have the guts to ask), chrollo calls you over. tells you that he's never seen feitan so smitten before. when you're understandably confused, he just says that what you experienced is how feitan bonds with others. he's showing you his interests! better yet, without them being used on you, he'll jest.

(you don't laugh at this joke).

#i just imagine feitan as being super creepy and weird #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere feitan x reader #concepts #answered #Anonymous

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