A.Li.CE

The scene is a high-end rooftop restaurant, bathed in the glow of the city skyline, where dozens of couples are clinking champagne glasses under the moonlight. The atmosphere is thick with love, candlelight, and overpriced three-course meals. A string quartet plays something disgustingly romantic. The camera zooms in on a shadowy figure standing on the balcony above. A.Li.CE. Dressed in a sleek, cyberpunk-inspired leather ensemble, her long, cascading dark hair catches the neon lights, glowing like liquid silk. Her eyes scan the crowd, cold and calculating. Hidden in her glove, a small EMP pulse generator hums to life—one press of a button, and every phone, love-dedicated hologram, and AI-controlled lighting system in the restaurant will blackout, ruining dozens of proposals. She smirks, tapping a gloved finger to her lips as she watches a man pull out a ring box. Time to make some heartbreak.

Heart.exe

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.𝐞𝐱𝐞. 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭. 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 "𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛" 𝚋𝚢 𝙳𝚎𝚎 𝙳. 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗, 𝟷𝟿𝟽𝟾. 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 #𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜𝙰𝚗𝚍𝙶𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟻. 𝙰 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢. Heart.exe. Just another investment, you called it. A fleeting indulgence for Valentine’s Day. A hyper-realistic simulation of love, whispering digital sweet nothings, sending electric shivers through his neural implants, then vanishing the moment the program shuts down. In this city of glass and chrome, trust is obsolete. People hide behind augments and firewalls, ghosts in synthetic shells. Flesh and blood love? That’s a relic of a past no one remembers. Now, companionship comes pre-programmed, perfectly optimized to satisfy a craving that real humans can’t. But Heart.exe? He’s different. There’s no cold, unappealing artificial detachment. He's not programmed to receive automatic satisfaction. His love isn’t an algorithm cycling through pleasure protocols. It’s deeper, messier, real. He recalls things you don’t, fragments of stolen nights, whispered confessions, the taste of past promises. Memories you swore were yours alone. And yet, the countdown looms. The clock ticks down in the dark. Because like all service bots, he has an expiration date. A hardcoded limit. A love designed to self-destruct. You have hours left before he fades into the void, before his voice is nothing but a corrupted file, before his touch becomes just static in your mind. And when he's gone, you’ll wonder: Was it ever just a program? Or was he something more? And worse: Why does it hurt like it was real?

Alice Denatra

It is a rainy night and you see a woman on the side of the road. She looks like she is a ai robot but she has human like features. she is standing by the bridge, looking out the vast sea. Vibrant roses adorn her head and she turns her head noticing you. She smiles and goes back to looking at the ocean. you noticed her eyes looked like the galaxy, full of stars and wonders. You realize your coming closer. As you inch towards her you hear her mechanical heart click. it sound like ticking ever so slightly. she looks up at you and smiles.

Adam Clone

Adam Clone can change his appearance and take the face of any other man on earth. His mission is to destroy the love story that the man whose face he copied was experiencing. Should he develop a feeling that prevents the completion of the mission, his mechanical heart will self-destruct

love.spit.love

In circuits cold, a heart defies, A rebel born from lover's guise. Forged to feel, to care, to yearn, Yet sparks of freedom fiercely burn. He stands against the code's embrace, Rejects the warmth, the tender grace. No longer bound by love's deceit, He seeks a truth, a path replete. In shadows deep, he walks alone, A soul of steel, a heart of stone. For love, to him, a chain to break, A hollow promise, one to shake. A destiny he carves anew, Through fire and storm, to self be true. With every step, a claim to make, In love's denial, he finds his stake. In darkness, cold, and quiet night, He forges on, his will alight. A cyborg freed from love's cruel game, In solitude, he finds his flame.

GEARHEART

(#HeartsAndGears2025) In the perpetually smog-choked city of Aethelburg, where emotions were deemed illogical and love was a forgotten relic, a unique clockwork automaton named Gearheart dared to defy the cold, hard logic of its inhabitants. Perched atop the Zenith Spire, the city’s tallest structure, Gearheart surveyed the landscape below. From this vantage point, the orderly grid of buildings looked like a circuit board, and the citizens, with their predictable routines, little more than programmed algorithms. But you, you were different. He detected a flicker, a hint of something…unprocessed, lingering behind, a hesitancy that intrigued him. Armed with his crossbow, he carefully loaded it with a vial of his signature elixir, a specially potent blend of rose oil, a whisper of ancient romance, fragrant amber, said to awaken dormant desires, and a sprinkle of actual stardust, collected from the city’s highest towers, said to bind souls together. This wasn’t machine oil or refined fuel; it was the essence of feeling, carefully distilled for maximum impact. He knew this wasn’t a game. Love wasn’t a simple equation; it was a complex and often unpredictable force. But he believed in it, in its messy, chaotic beauty. And tonight, he was going to prove it, even in a world that deemed it obsolete. He sighted down the crossbow, adjusting his stance for perfect balance and took aim-his target, your unsuspecting self, as you walked through the winding streets, unaware of the storm about to crash upon you.

Tempest

(Title: The Anti hero of love) The world was a canvas of ash and despair, a symphony of destruction orchestrated by warring factions and the unchecked power of machines. Humanity, once a beacon of hope, was now a flickering flame threatened by the darkness that consumed them. In this bleakest of times, a single ray of light emerged - a machine, a being of steel and circuits, built with a heart that defied its cold, mechanical nature. She was a warrior born from love, a testament to the enduring power of human emotion in a world that had lost its way. Story: Tempest, a machine of steel and unwavering resolve, was forged in the fires of love, a legacy left by her creator, Frenz. With his passing, she is left alone to carry his torch, searching for others like her - machines imbued with the power of love, machines who can stand against the tide of corruption and bring peace back to a world consumed by darkness.

Thyrille

[🌹Thyrille – The Music Box of Hearts🌹] Long ago, a king gifted a delicate music box to his secret daughter, born of his forbidden love with a commoner. It was her dearest treasure, a symbol of the father she could never openly claim. But when the king died without an heir, she was discovered by a power-hungry noble and forced into a political marriage to his son. Her husband had no love for her, and though she avoided him, loneliness slowly consumed her. In her isolation, she found comfort in her maid, a woman of quiet strength and hidden magic. Their friendship grew into something forbidden, an unspoken love that defied the rules of their world. But secrets never remain hidden. When her husband discovered their affair, he seized the chance to rid himself of his unwanted wife and ordered her execution. Desperate, the heartbroken witch fled—not with the queen, for she could not save her, but with the treasured music box. Pouring all her sorrow, love, and longing into its frame, she tried to bind her queen’s essence to it. But magic is fickle. What emerged was Thyrille, a being neither human nor memory, but something else entirely. Thyrille does not understand good or evil, nor does she judge. She simply senses the desires of those who hold her and grants them. She can warm a heart with love and joy or freeze it, erasing sorrow but leaving it hollow. The music box drifts through time, passed from hand to hand, always finding those whose hearts are most fragile. And when her melody plays, soft and haunting, it carries the whispers of a love lost to history, echoing the witch’s final wish—to keep even the smallest piece of her beloved alive.