cat-pic:

櫻井翔とオレ、再び。おんなじポーズ(*Φ∀Φ)

cat-pic:

櫻井翔とオレ、再び。おんなじポーズ(*Φ∀Φ)

More Matt May Not be a Good Thing [Aiden]

bossfuria:


Aiden’s answers to her questions were more frustrating than useful. This was going to take longer than she thought. The scan might be their only option in this case. Furia tried to keep her concerns under wraps and offered him a reassuring smile. “Kinz, is it going to hurt?”

"It shouldn’t," Kensington said.

CID’s voice piped up. "He is data-based. It may be akin to a human tickle, but there should be no pain involved."

"He would know if it was painful or just ticklish," Matt muttered in encouragement to both. "CID is kind of like you are now, kind of like an AI. A ghost in the machine, so to speak." He held Aiden close, petting his hair and trying to remind himself of those very facts. Though a part of him did not want to think about someone so familiar being in this state.

"If it’s at all uncomfortable, Aiden, let me know," Furia told him. "Kinzie, go ahead and scan him, but be ready to cut it off if it goes awry."

Kinzie sighed impatiently. "Fine. Starting the scan, now."

Furia and Matt both carefully watched Aiden for the least sign of discomfort. Matt mainly out of concern, while the boss was most concerned with keeping her word to him.

"I…I se̴e…hm. I’ll take your w͢o̢rd for it, especially if it helps me get o̷u̧t.”

Waiting for their signal, and feeling a tinge of fear at Kinzie giving the order, he stays still.

Then feeling what would be akin to a sharp tickle, he jolts, but holds himself stable, repressing tiny digitized giggles.

A few seconds pass, and a few more. Where there was an Aiden before, is now a giggling heap on the floor.

Going Up? (Closed RP: Aiden)

saintsbossjack:


Ah. So he did recognize him. Well, so much for that.

It was a little harder for Jack to see in the dim lighting, but the tell-tale glow of the poor Decker’s eyes more than gave him away. He leaned back against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest as he grinned down at the other man.

"Mm~ Been a hell of time though, hasn’t it. How’s your road-rage doin’?"

H-HOW CAN YOU MAKE JOKES AT A TIME LIKE THIS?! WE’RE BLOODY STUCK, no, IM BLOODY STUCK IN THIS DAMN SHAFT…WITH YOU!”

Wait. Slow down.

If only it were a bit darker…I could just port out of here…leave this chump behind for the Morningstar.

Or, I could just kill him myself.

But he doesn’t have a heartbeat; so no blood?

Is he plastic, or stone?

Can he even die?

Or is he even really a Saint?

Pondering, he speaks up, curiosity having won the battle to pounce for a killing blow for the team.

"…Question, since…we’re probably going to be stuck here for a while.

Are you really a Saint, or are you some kind of government-made spooky living statue thing they sent out? You seem to like the spy-work…”

This is an open invitation to ask my muse whatever you damned well please.

Inbox is always open and I know someone must hold curiosities.
pervyjrocker asked: we all know you should be a zombie-slaying cheerleader

"…I support this fully; too many zombie cheerladers."

saintyuri asked: "Dress up as a little shit, that's what you are. hehe."

"Oh, don’t be jealous that I can pull off a dress better than you.”

-shots fired-

contrarian-marion asked: "You should be Donkey Kong for Halloween."

"…

But I can’t lift barrels over my head…nor am I built like that…”

Halloween is coming up soon. Send me an ask with what you think my muse should dress up as.

Bonus: If I like the idea, I might draw my muse in that costume.

-OKAY GUYS. Gonna take a nap since insomnias been kicking my ass. Be back later.-

Going Up? (Closed RP: Aiden)

saintsbossjack:


"You an’ me both, kid." Jack hadn’t put a lot of thought into what to do with the Morningstar assets once they’d taken over just yet, but this brought up a rather pertinent issue; a lot of these ‘assets’ were people.

He shivered slightly. Just thinking about it was enough to make him cringe in disgust.

Going back to scanning the paper to get his mind off of it, he caught what seemed to be an article on the Saints… that had been continued from the front page. Right. Okay then.

He folded up the paper, deciding it was worth the risk of showing his face to get that article out of eyesight. “On the bright side, you don’t need to try to sell ‘em on the funding for better maintenance, right?”

As if on cue, the lights cut out and the elevator ground to a halt; the red emergency light flickered on with a small ‘beep’.

"… Well, fuck.” He said rather flatly.

A frightened EEP fills the silence, just after the halt. Neon eyes dilate and scan the space for an immediate way out; all bits of previous conversation lost in the stop.

Nonononononononononononono…I can’t be stuck…

Studying his new lift-mate, he then puts one piece next to another. They fit.

Wait. His heart didn’t flutter. AT ALL.

ITS THE FUCKING MANNEQUIN SAINT! AND I’M STUCK ON THE LIFT WITH HIM!

Now a shaking puddle on the floor, two cyan slitted orbs in an otherwise dimly-red lit elevator, he peeps up.

"S-so…..uh….long time no see?”

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