#Sketchie Handlers

[solidusgrilo]

''Got a job for you, 621.''

[frozenartscapes]

I would love a scene in Spy x Family, post-reveal, where Anya gets kidnapped/is in danger and all the highly dangerous adults she's met and endeared herself to all team up to save her in a high-intensity, super satisfying series of fights all set to No Sleep 'til Brooklyn by the Beastie Boys

[seven-thewanderer]

okay I really wanna share this X3

Still working on handler names for my Sketchies (since I wasn’t gonna actually design them, since none of them would appear if it was an actual game besides finding their names on like lil cubbies and notes), but one of my characters, Luni, I randomly got an idea of what her handler could look like so…

I quickly tried to doodle this out :3

That’s Luni (the tiny Moon Sketchie on the left), and her handler’s name was Sylvia Abergavenny (human on the right)

[justmenoworries]

Interpreting Wooly as Amanda's handler created by Hameln to keep her under control really puts her reaction to him returning in the second game under a new light.

Wooly has always been there to keep Amanda on a short leash, actively berating her for saying and doing the "wrong" things, sabotaging her attempts at remembering Rebecca and always meddling when she's trying to reach out to someone like Kate or Riley (bfr I'm not the only one who thought it was sketchy when he basically replaced Kate with himself as the friend Amanda wanted to send a present to in the alternate neighborhood episode, right?)

Amanda has tried so many times to get rid of him, be it through telling him to go away or just straight-up killing him but he always comes back. He's Hameln's persistent little watchdog who she cannot get rid of. He'll always be there in the next tape being the constant buzzing in her ears to distract her from what she really wants to do.

Except in 2, it looks like Amanda finally succeeded. Wooly's not there for the first couple of tapes. Amanda speaks much more freely without him around, bonds with Riley more to the point she actually calls them by name at the end of the bedtime episode. But then Wooly returns. She hasn't managed to get rid of him after all. He'll always, always be there, tugging on her arm to keep her from getting out of line. Notice how before Wooly returns, the Hameln logo doesn't appear at the end of the AtA episodes. But once he's back, boom! There it is. Wooly, and with him Hameln, have once again weaseled their way into Amanda's world.

No wonder her first reaction is to attack him in a fit of rage.

[badkitty3000]

One Bed

Five Hargreeves x Female Reader, One-shot, 7.4k words, request

Summary: You are the lead singer in Lila's band, touring with the other Hargreeves and spending nights in run-down roadside motels. One night you and Five are forced to share a room... and you guessed it... there was only one bed!

A/N: @voteforevilthoughts this one's for you, babe! 😽

Warnings: Smut, explicit sex, oral sex (giving and receiving)

One Bed

The tour seemed to be going ok. It wasn’t the greatest thing in the world, having to share a shitty bus with six other people while you drove from the venues to an equally shitty motel night after night. But, hey, this is what you wanted and you were finally getting to show off your amazing vocal talents. Your bandmates were cool for the most part. Lila was fucking nuts, but you liked her, and you thought she and Diego made a cute pair. Viktor was a talented musician and easy to talk to. 

You were also traveling with the other Hargreeves siblings. Allison was the band manager and was the one that booked all of the gigs and made sure everyone got paid accordingly. If anyone tried to stiff them, she rumored them into paying what they were owed, and then some. Luther was basically a roadie, helping to carry amps and other heavy equipment. He also served as security if the crowd started getting a little too rowdy. Klaus tagged along, mostly for the fun of it, and because he liked listening to the band play. He also drove the bus and usually picked the motels for the night, which was why they were usually sketchy at best.

Then there was Number Five.

You weren’t really sure why Five was there, other than to make everyone’s life less enjoyable. Mostly he just scowled and made snarky remarks, and sometimes took over driving when Klaus got too tired. On those occasions, no one was allowed to stop for bathroom breaks or detours, because he was “making good time”. Although you noticed he had no problem stopping to see the World’s Largest Spatula that took you twenty minutes out of your way.

The band was technically Lila’s, even though she was the drummer. The Prime 8’s was a punk band and hadn’t really made it big yet, but you were hoping that since you signed on you could change that. 

Back in Lila’s Commission days, and when The Handler was training her to use her own powers, she would use the Infinite Switchboard to search for other superpowered kids to try and mimic. Her mother would bring her within the vicinity of another child’s powers so she could learn how to use her own. When Lila had found you, she saw that you were also a little off-kilter and liked loud, punk music. You wore short skirts with black boots and dyed your hair whatever color you were feeling at that moment. As a teenager, you rebelled against your parents and got several tattoos and piercings in various places that they wouldn’t find. 

Lila was drawn to your fun personality and you and she became friends and kept in touch. When the last lead singer had quit to go off with another band, Lila immediately contacted you. As it so happened, you had been looking for a band to join, so it worked out perfectly. Plus, you would be amongst others that had powers, so you wouldn’t have to feel weird being the odd man out.

Your power was temperature manipulation. Growing up, you had never thought of it as a particularly useful power, but over the years you had come to appreciate it. And it always came in handy on super hot days or freezing cold ones. Your body was always the perfect temperature.

*********************************

“Move your feet,” Five demanded in that ultra-superior tone of his.

He was standing in the aisle of the bus, glaring down at you in the seat that you had just plopped into. You were headed to another crappy roadside motel for the night, after finishing a show, and you were exhausted. Your feet were resting on the seat next to yours so that you could sprawl out and maybe take a nap.

“Why should I move?” you asked in annoyance. “There’s like six other seats to choose from.”

“Correct. There are six other seats you can choose to sit in.”

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that your feet are in my seat. That’s where I was sitting on the way to the venue and now I would like my seat back.”

“Five!” you cried, bunching your hands into fists and hitting your thighs with them in a tiny temper tantrum. “Is it possible for you to not be a total dick all the time?”

Five paused, as if he were considering the question. “Feet. Off.”

You made a loud growling noise, but ended up moving your feet and letting him sit down. You knew he wasn’t going to let it drop, so you might as well just give in. You huffed quietly and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the cold window. To make it a little more comfortable to rest your head on, you placed your palm to the glass and warmed it a few degrees. 

“Everybody good?” Klaus yelled back from the driver’s seat.

There was a chorus of tired-sounding responses and Klaus pulled out onto the highway. It was dark out and the bus interior lights were dimmed. Next to you, Five crossed one leg over the other, his knee brushing against your bare thigh that was exposed under your skirt. You felt a little shiver as the fine wool of his pants met your smooth skin. If Five noticed, he pretended not to. Instead he took a sip of the coffee he had and then leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes.

You took the opportunity to study his face while he wasn’t looking. You were pretty sure the guy didn’t have one soft curve anywhere on his body. He was all sharp angles; chiseled like a Greek statue and just as beautiful. 

You found yourself wondering just what exactly he had going on under those suits he wore all the time. They were definitely tailored to show off his trim physique, but you had never seen him in anything else. You had a feeling he was a lot stronger than he looked. People that carry themselves the way he did knew they had something good. Big dick energy; and Five certainly had that.

As you ruminated on whether or not it was just the energy he had or the real deal, your eyes traveled slowly up his legs and abdomen. Your top teeth caught on your bottom lip as you stared. When your eyes drifted back up to his face again, his eyes were open.

He turned his head just slightly in your direction, a tiny smirk on his face. “Can I help you with something?”

Your face heated up and it had nothing to do with your powers. You quickly looked away. “Not really, no.”

Five picked his head up from the back of the seat, clearly amused that he caught you checking him out. “Want me to stand up, honey? Give you the full view?”

Your cheeks burned even hotter. He could have spared you the embarrassment and pretended not to have noticed. But no. He had to be a giant asshole about it.

“Fuck off,” you spat out.

Five just gave you that dickish grin of his and settled back into his seat, uncrossing his legs. He spread them just enough for his knee to touch yours again. The super smug look on his face had you opening your mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Since you were at a loss for words, you retaliated by grabbing his coffee cup out of his hands. 

“Hey!” he yelled.

You said nothing, just stared him in the eyes as your hand that held the coffee turned a bright white and small ice crystals formed on the outside of the cup. When you were satisfied that it had been long enough, you handed it back to Five with an overly-sweet smile.

He snatched it from your hand and removed the top, peering inside. As suspected, it had been transformed into a solid lump of black ice.

“Enjoy that, honey,” you cooed, before turning back to the window with a satisfied smile.

“Fuck,” you heard Five grumble under his breath before tossing the entire thing into the trash can that was sitting a few feet away. You smiled even bigger and closed your eyes.

The Forest View motel had neither a forest nor a view in its vicinity, but it did have cheap rooms and beds that did not appear to contain any vermin, so it was deemed passable for one night’s stay. After checking in, everyone split up into their normal pairs of roommates. Lila and Diego. Luther and Viktor. Klaus and Five. And you and Allison.

After stepping into your room, Allison claimed the bed nearest the door, as always, and turned back the bedspread before climbing in. 

“I’m exhausted,” she breathed out, closing her eyes as her head hit the pillow.

“Don’t you want to shower?” you asked.

She waved a hand in the air. “I’ll do it in the morning. You go ahead.”

You gathered your toiletries and pajamas up and headed to the bathroom. You thought Allison was being a bit dramatic considering she wasn’t the one that had been dancing and wailing at the top of her lungs for two hours, but whatever. A nice hot shower was calling your name.

As you turned the water on and let it run for a while, you brushed your teeth and washed your face. While you were mid-way through flossing, you started to hear voices drifting through the paper-thin walls between your room and the next one. The voices were muffled, and some of the words were cut off, but you could still make out most of what they were saying. You could tell that it was Klaus and Five.

“I saw you snuggled up with… the bus,” Klaus said.

“Was NOT snuggled… wouldn’t move her stupid feet!” Five argued.

“Uh huh… that’s what it looked like.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying… the way you look at her.”

“And how do I look at her?”

“Like you… starving… haven’t… ten years… Las Vegas buffet.”

You heard incoherent grumblings from Five. “ … an idiot!”

“I’m not blind, Fivey. Admit… she’s cute.”

More angry muttering was heard and you could picture Five over there, all tense and wound tight.

“I can tell by… face… you do,” Klaus said with a laugh.

“So what if I do? … means nothing.”

“Make a move. You… want to.”

“Klaus… shut… fuck up.”

“Ok, but… saying… I see her… you too. It’s… obvious… crush on you.”

“Drop it.”

After that, you didn’t hear anymore, but you stood there with a piece of dental floss hanging out of your mouth while you stared wide-eyed at the wall in front of you.

Klaus thinks I have a crush on Five? And Five thinks I’m cute?

As you got into the luke-warm shower that you warmed up a couple of degrees with your powers, you had a lot to think about. Did you have a crush on Five? He was a no-fun asshole, but he was actually pretty funny with his sarcastic comments and dry wit. And he was obviously very smart. He also made you feel weird little fluttery sensations in your stomach when he looked at you. You shook your head as you rinsed the shampoo out of your hair. You must be crazy.

******************************

The next day, you kept thinking back on the conversation you had heard the night before. Since then, you were much more observant of Five’s actions around you. While you were on stage, blasting out song after song and dancing around like a maniac, you caught him watching you. 

Maybe he had always watched you while you sang, but you had never noticed. Now you could see that those deep green eyes of his looked you over like he was studying you. Like you were a wild creature he was observing for his scientific research. When you jumped up and down, fluttering your short skirt and giving the audience a tiny glimpse of your red panties underneath, you saw a flicker of a smile on his face.

Interesting. So the old man has a pulse after all. 

After the show, instead of getting on the bus with everyone, Allison went her separate way. Claire had a volleyball tournament the next day and she didn’t want to miss it. She said she would catch up with everyone next week. With Allison gone, you realized that made your little traveling group an odd number. You wondered how that was going to work once you got to the motel. You got excited thinking you may be getting your own room.

When you arrived, Five blinked off the bus while you and the others filed out and joined him, Klaus headed off in the direction of the office to check in and get the keys. Luther started unloading the bags.

After a minute, Klaus returned, holding up the room keys and passing them out. “Here you go,” he said as he dangled a key over your waiting hand. “By the way, I should mention, since there was an opportunity for someone to get their own room, I volunteered.”

“What?” you cried. “Klaus, that’s not fair! I’m the only girl here!”

“Sorry, babe, but you snooze you lose. You should have thought of that earlier and put in your request. I already invited a guest over and I need the solo arrangements, if you know what I mean.”

You put your hands on your hips. “So I have to share a room just because you want to hook up with someone?”

“Uh… yeah,” he said, as if that was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Great,” you murmured, looking around at the rest. “Ok, well who am I with then?”

“Not us,” Lila said as she pulled Diego close to her by his belt loop. “Mommy and Daddy need some alone time.”

“Sorry,” Viktor said. “But Luther takes up an entire double bed on his own and I have a major aversion to sleeping with anyone next to me.” He looked at you guiltily. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

You realized with absolute horror that meant only one person was left. You turned to Five with wide eyes as the realization hit him at the same time.

“Shit,” you both said in unison.

As the rest of the group walked away to their respective rooms, giggling to themselves, you and Five regarded one another.

You sighed. “Well, come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Five picked up his bag off the ground and started following you towards the room you had been assigned. “You better not snore. I’ve been known to strangle a person in their sleep for less.”

“I do not snore,” you said, offended, as you unlocked the door.

When you stepped inside, you stopped in your tracks. Five followed behind you, almost plowing right into you before he saw what you saw. There was only one bed.

“Oh fuck no,” he said with a groan, dropping his bag heavily on the floor.

You let out a loud, disbelieving cackle. “This is a joke right? Something Klaus set up? This can’t be real.”

Five ran a hand through his hair and then spun slowly around, surveying the tiny room as if another bed were going to spontaneously appear. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he breathed out.

You and he stared at one another for several seconds, neither of you knowing what to say or do, until Five suddenly disappeared without a word, leaving you alone in the quiet of the crappy room.

******************************

Five’s first stop was Klaus’s room, which was right next door. He banged on the door with his fist. “Klaus! Open up!”

“Who is it?” came a sweet, sing-songy voice from inside.

“You know damn well who it is! Open up!” Five yelled through the door.

“No turn down service tonight, thank you! But a bottle of sparkling would be lovely,” Klaus called back.

Five blinked inside, surprising Klaus as he lounged on his back on one of the two beds in the room. A cigarette hung casually out of the corner of his mouth as he smirked at his brother.

“Oh, hey Fivey… something wrong?”

“Klaus I’m going to…. “ he started, balling up his fists in a rage. “Did you do this on purpose?”

“Do what?” Klaus asked with feigned innocence.

“You know fucking what! Now let me stay in here with you so she can have the other room.”

“No can do, Fiverino… I got some company headed over as we speak. And while I don’t really object to you being here, I doubt you’re going to want to bear witness to all the freaky shit that’s about to go down. I mean… unless you are?”

“God Klaus… can you stop being such a slut for five fucking seconds?”

“No. No, not really.”

“Then switch rooms with us at least! There’s only one bed over there.”

Klaus bolted upright in the bed with a giant, shit-eating grin on his face. “What do you mean there’s only one bed?”

Five sighed, barely restraining the urge to strangle his brother. “I mean there’s only one… “ He held up his index finger in the air for emphasis. “ONE… fucking bed!”

Klaus started to laugh obnoxiously and he clapped his hands together. “Oh holy shit, I had no idea about the bed! This worked out even better than I thought!”

Five leaned in dangerously close and Klaus realized what he let slip out. “What was that?” Five ground out between tightly clenched teeth.

Klaus giggled nervously and gingerly pushed Five out of his personal bubble with a single finger to the middle of his chest. “Nothing.”

“Klaus… I swear to god, you better switch rooms right now or… “

“Or what? Hmmm, Fivey? You going to go all full psycho mode and slash me to bits? Leave my corpse here to bleed into the cheap carpet and stink up the place worse than it is?” Klaus shook his head sadly. “Not very nice to the poor cleaning woman that will surely find me.”

“You’ll be back again before anyone will find you dead,” Five spat out.

Klaus took a drag off his cigarette and settled back against the headboard again, putting his hands behind his head. “Well then, looks like either way I’m not leaving this room.”

Five’s mouth dropped open but no words came out. Instead, he made a desperate, hilariously loud growling noise of immense frustration before blinking away, leaving Klaus chuckling quietly and congratulating himself on a job well done.

Five’s portal opened in the motel office, surprising a very depressed-looking desk clerk that had been scrolling through his phone for job openings in the area. The clerk screamed as Five appeared directly in front of the desk, eyes blazing with anger.

“I need… “ Five breathed out, his words measured and slow. “A new… room.”

The clerk stared up at him, blinking in confusion, until Five slammed the palm of his hand flat on the desk. “Now!”

“I… I’m sorry… we’re all full,” the clerk stuttered.

Five closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried again, this time attempting a cordial smile. Unfortunately all that accomplished was to make him appear even more deadly and deranged.

“I have no doubt that this lovely establishment is just packed full with eager guests at the moment. After all, it is the prime season for shitty roadside motels that haven’t seen a remodel since the Eisenhower administration. However, I really REALLY need a new room. Pronto.”

The clerk slid his chair back a few inches, his eyes wide. “Really, I’m not kidding. We had a pipe burst a few weeks back and half the rooms were flooded. The only ones we have are the ones you and your party are staying in.”

Five glanced down on the desk, noticing the letter opener that was lying conveniently unattended. The satisfactory image of the clerk gasping for breath as blood gurgled out of his mouth after Five plunged the opener into the side of his neck surfaced for a moment, but then disappeared. Just like with Klaus, the aftermath would be too messy.

“Fine,” Five hissed angrily. He was just about to blink off to his room again when he stopped and turned to the clerk, stabbing a finger in the air towards him. “Just so you know, I will be leaving a scathing review online.” Then he was gone in a flash of blue.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed when he materialized again, breathing fast and hard and looking like a crazy man. He tried to smooth his hair down and straighten his tie in an attempt to look pulled together. It wasn’t convincing.

“So,” he began. “It looks like there are no other rooms and Klaus is being a giant dickhead, so I think we are stuck here.”

“Ok… well, really it’s–”

“It’s alright. I can sleep on the floor, it’s no big deal.”

You and he both looked at the faded, thin carpeting under your feet. The pea-green color was spotted with various shades of brown stains. In the middle was a large, suspiciously dark red splotch.

“Five… you’re not going to sleep on the floor –”

“Or the bathtub!” he interjected, suddenly blinking into the bathroom. He came back almost immediately. “Ok, so there appears to be a bit of a mold problem in the bathroom. But that’s alright, I’ll just sleep on the bus,” he prattled on, reaching down to grab his bag off the floor.

“The bus has no heat. You’ll freeze to death.”

“Ok…” Five began again, searching the room frantically as if he was considering crawling into the ducts and sleeping in there.

“Five! Will you calm down for two seconds? It’s not THAT big of a deal!”

Five stared at you, the look on his face clearly pained. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

You sighed heavily. “We are both adults. I think we can handle sleeping next to one another for one night.”

There was a long pause as Five took this in. He finally dropped his bag again and ran a hand through his hair for the fiftieth time. “Yeah… ok, you’re right. I can handle it if you can.”

You nodded. “I can handle it just fine.” A grin crept slowly over your face. “You’re not that irresistible you know.”

Five rolled his eyes, but then he smiled. “Yeah well, neither are you.”

You laughed. “Ok, it’s settled. But I need to take a shower because I was really working up a sweat on the stage earlier, so do you mind if I go first?”

“Not at all,” Five said, gesturing to the bathroom. “Take your time. I’ll just be here, enjoying our luxury accommodations.” He picked up his bag and threw it on the bed. Then he unzipped it, pulling out a half-full bottle of whiskey. “And maybe some of this. Care for one?”

“Absolutely!”

He blinked away, returning with two cellophane-wrapped plastic cups from the bathroom. He unwrapped them and poured the whiskey into each one. He handed you one and kept the other for himself. 

You held your cup out in a toast. “Here’s to shitty motels with only one bed!”

“To only one bed. Cheers,” Five said with a small smirk before taking a sip.

You brought the cup of whiskey into the shower with you and you sipped it slowly while the hot water ran over your body. The booze was starting to make your brain a little loopy and you smiled to yourself thinking about Five sitting out there, just mere feet away, while you were naked and wet in there. 

He probably wouldn’t even know what to do with a naked woman, you thought to yourself. But then again… he said he knows how to do everything.

When you stepped out of the shower, grabbing one of the flimsy pieces of fabric they considered towels, you wrapped it around you. You left your hair wet, but you brushed it out so it wasn’t matted together. Then you noticed the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar.

************************

Five didn’t mean to look. Not really. It wasn’t his fault that the cheap ass bathroom door hadn’t latched right. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that the bed he was lying on faced directly into said bathroom. It was, maybe, his fault for not looking away.

The shower curtain offered some privacy, but he could still see your silhouette as you tipped your head back to wash your hair, stretching your arms up and pushing out your chest as if you knew he was watching. Five felt bad for thinking such things but not that bad. He was stoic but he wasn’t dead.

As he laid there, propped up against the headboard, leisurely drinking his precious whiskey, he enjoyed the little show you were unknowingly giving him. He still had on his full suit, so he shed his jacket and vest. He pulled off his tie. He would have loved to strip out of his pants, too, but he wouldn’t dare with you around. Plus it might be a little too obvious how he felt about your situation if he didn’t have his tailored pants covering up his growing hard-on.

****************************

If you hadn’t been tipsy already, you probably wouldn’t have done it. But at that moment the urge was just too strong. You let the towel drop from your body onto the floor.

You made a show of running your fingers through your hair and dropping your head back seductively. When you bent over to get your underwear and pajamas, you made sure to move extra slowly and bent over so your ass faced the door. You pulled your panties on slowly. Then you slipped your t-shirt over your head, pulling it down so that it stopped half way down your thighs. You had shorts that went with it, but you kicked those to the side. You opened the door and stepped out in a cloud of steam.

******************************

You had to have been doing it on purpose, Five was certain of it. In the shower, he knew you hadn’t realized the door was ajar. But now… fuck… now, you absolutely knew. And you were killing him.

When you emerged, he almost choked on the whiskey and he coughed, sputtering and stammering.

“Damn it… ,” he said in between wheezes. “Went down… the wrong pipe,” he coughed out.

You laughed, walking over to the bed and standing in front of him, wearing just your white Prime-8’s t-shirt, with your wet hair dripping onto the front.

“You ok?”

Five nodded, still letting out a few lingering coughs. “Yeah, all good.”

“Your turn,” you said with a smile as you walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers. Five’s eyes followed your every move.

Five spent a long time in the shower, drinking his whiskey, and trying to get his head on straight. He was trying to prolong the time before he would be forced to crawl into that bed next to you. The fact that you had decided to torture him by only wearing a t-shirt and panties was driving him crazy. Did you want him to not be able to sleep tonight? It was beginning to look that way. 

Five thought about jerking himself off while in the shower, just to get things a little more under control and to try and prevent any embarrassing mishaps in bed. But the thought of beating off while you were just a few feet away in the other room was even more humiliating. 

He had admitted to Klaus that he thought you were cute, which was true. He liked your funky tattoos and crazy colored hair. He liked how confident you were on stage and the sound of your voice. And when he had caught a glimpse of the little silver ball that pierced through the middle of your tongue, he thought about what that would feel like if you dragged it over his dick.

But he didn’t need to be acting on any of these feelings. It wasn’t a good idea to get involved with someone you had to spend that much time with. And he also didn’t need his annoying siblings inserting themselves into his love life, which they undoubtedly would do. Klaus already was.

“Stupid Klaus,” Five muttered angrily before shutting off the water. 

He dried off before pulling on a pair of clean black boxer briefs. He was about to put on a pair of pants, too, but then decided to give you a taste of your own medicine. Five had already caught you staring at his body the other day, and you weren’t the only one that could be a tease.

Back in the room, you tried your best to pretend to be asleep. But when Five came waltzing over wearing nothing but his underwear, your eyes refused to close. His hair was still damp and hanging over his forehead. His chest and stomach were hard, with toned shoulders and biceps that rippled with each movement. He looked like a goddamn underwear model.

“You’re wearing that?” you asked, partly horrified.

Five looked down at himself, as if he hadn’t even considered there to be anything out of the usual. “What’s wrong?”

You cleared your throat and then shrugged, snuggling down deeper into the covers and closing your eyes with indifference. “Nothing. Just figured you might be cold, that’s all. It’s drafty in here.”

“I’ll be fine,” he answered. “But thank you for your concern.”

After that, he shut off the light and crawled into bed next to you. You felt his weight on the mattress and the heat from his body radiating outwards. You shifted around on your side, suddenly not able to get comfortable. He smelled so good it wasn’t fair. You flipped over so that your butt was facing him, which wasn’t much better. But at least you didn’t have to look at his perfect profile silhouetted in the moonlight.

He made no move to get closer to you, and neither did you. It was silent except for the sound of your breathing. You both laid awake, blinking into the darkness, before finally falling asleep.

It was the middle of the night when you both woke up again. The room was noticeably colder and while your body temperature had regulated itself even in your sleep, you felt Five shivering next to you. You sat up in bed, looking around. The internal temperature had dropped so low you could already see your breath in a faint cloud in front of you.

You looked over at Five, who was huddled under the covers and obviously freezing.

“The heat is out,” you said in his direction.

“Yeah, no shit,” he said angrily through chattering teeth. “I already checked, the radiator died. Probably because it was built sometime in the late 1800s.”

You laughed. “Bet you wish you had some actual clothes on now, huh?”

Five grumbled. “Shut up. Go back to sleep.”

You huffed at his irritability and closed your eyes to try and fall back asleep. The fact that Five was lying a foot away from you, practically naked, and shivering so hard you could hear his teeth rattling together made it a little hard. After a few minutes you let out a loud sigh.

“Five?”

“What?” he snapped.

“I can help you, you know. I can warm you up.”

There was a full ten seconds of silence. “No thank you,” he answered, a little softer than before.

“God you are the most stubborn person I have ever met!” you exclaimed. “Believe it or not, I’m not trying to hit on you. I’m just trying to be nice so that you won’t freeze to death.”

As Five laid there in silence for another minute, you waited. Finally, you heard him exhale slowly through his nose. 

“Fine,” he said.

“Good. Now give me your hand,” you told him.

Five slid the hand closest to you over the mattress and you grasped it in yours. The red light from your powers created a soft glow from under the covers.

“How’s that?” you asked.

“Good. Thanks.”

“I know it’s not just your hands, though. If you want… “ you hesitated. “I can warm up the rest of your body.”

Five audibly swallowed. “Uh… I’m not sure… “

You made a huffing noise again. “You are such a baby!” Without asking again, you wiggled your way over to his side and hugged him around his chest. Then you threw a leg over his thighs, trapping him in a bear hug. Your entire body gave off a faint red glow as you worked on warming him up.

As your powers started to take their effect and Five stopped shivering, you rested your head on his shoulder. His intoxicating scent was invading your senses and you closed your eyes. It wasn’t long before you were both breathing just a little heavier, your chests rising and falling faster. Five placed his hand over the top of yours, resting on his stomach. 

“I think I’m good now,” he whispered.

You didn’t say anything at first, but you let your powers die down. Without even thinking about it, you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, brushing your lips and nose against him.

“Ok,” you purred into his warm skin.

Five made a quiet moaning noise, and when you started to pull away his hand tightened on yours. 

“Wait,” he said. “I need you to help with one more thing.”

Your voice was shaky as it came out. “What’s that?”

Five slowly moved your hand down his hard abdomen and over his boxers until he reached the problem he needed help with. He pressed your hand firmly against the prominent bulge between his legs. “This,” he said, and his voice cracked.

“Oh shit, Five,” you moaned. “You didn’t have to wait so long.”

The following minutes were a dizzying blurr of mouths colliding and teeth gnashing; limbs intertwined and hands desperately searching; hearts racing and lungs gasping. You had climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and grinding down onto his hardened cock. He had already ripped your shirt off and he grabbed roughly at your breasts. You leaned down to kiss him again, and his tongue flicked across the silver stud in yours.

Five groaned as the tip of his tongue explored the cool metal. “I’ve been dying to get a feel of this tongue ring,” he told you breathlessly.

“Yeah?” you questioned, as you moved to his jaw and neck, and then his collarbone.

“Yes.” He pulled your hair, making you whine. “I want to see what you can do with it.”

You pulled back, looking down on him with a sexy grin before clicking the stud against your teeth. “How about I show you?”

“I won’t object to that,” Five breathed out as you started to slither down his body.

When you were kneeling between his legs, you pulled the waistband of his underwear down, revealing the hard cock you had been grinding against. It was perfect, just like the rest of his body, with smooth taut skin and long veins that ran from the girthy base to the suckable head. You made a little moan of approval as you removed his boxers the rest of the way.

Five sucked in a loud, sharp breath when the flat of your tongue met the underside of his dick. His hips jerked up as he let out a low moan. You worked your tongue up and down the shaft, running the stud along the vein and up to the tip, where you licked it slowly and traced it in a circle with the metal ball. 

“Holy… ff–ffuuuuck,” Five groaned, throwing an arm over his face.

“Do you like it?” you asked coyly, knowing full well what the answer was.

Five was panting. “Fuck yes… yes, I really like it… keep going… please.”

You continued sucking and lapping at his dick, drawing patterns over it with your tongue ring and making him whine and hiss through his teeth. You tapped it against the underside of the swollen and leaking head, feeling Five’s muscles tighten in his thighs as he tried to contain himself. When you took him completely into your mouth and you slid your hot mouth over him a few times, making sure the stud was in play, he grabbed your hair in his fist.

“Stop,” he ground out, trying not to sound as desperate as he was. “You have to stop.”

Knowing that meant he was about two seconds away from blowing his load down your throat, you relented and pulled away. You looked up at him as you knelt between his legs, his wet shaft in your hand, and your eyelashes fluttering innocently.

“Fuck,” he growled, his jaw clenched tight. “Take those panties off.” You did as he said and threw your underwear onto the floor. “Sit on my face,” he told you in between heaving breaths.

Just hearing him say that had the wetness pouring out of you and you maneuvered your way up until your thighs were on either side of his head. He grabbed your ass with both hands and immediately went to work.

You had never received oral sex quite like this before. Five ate you out ravenously, like he couldn’t get enough. He was rough and sloppy and relentless, and you had to hold onto the top of the dusty headboard just to keep your balance.

“Oh my god!” you cried out, automatically starting to rock your hips against his face. “Shhiiitttt… Five!”

Five didn’t slow down or change his tactic; he just dug his fingers harder into your ass cheeks and shoved his tongue inside you, drinking up the river that was gushing out of you. The light scruff on his chin and upper lip scratched against your thighs and clit, creating even more friction to drive you insane. 

His mouth was warm and wet as it engulfed your entire pussy, sucking and licking at all of your most sensitive parts. You were riding his face, even as he tried to keep you in line by holding you still. But you couldn’t help it, you just wanted more.

“Yes yes… please!” you screamed as you started to feel the beginnings of an orgasm building.

In one blinding blue flash, you found yourself kneeling over nothing, holding onto the headboard as you panted heavily.

“What the hell–”

Five grabbed you from behind, his hands on your tits and his hard cock sliding between your legs as he knelt behind you. His warm mouth was on your neck and you tipped your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he whispered harshly near your ear as he squeezed your breasts harder.

It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “Yes… do it.”

You pushed your backside out a little to allow him better access and Five guided the head of his cock inside of you with his hand. He didn’t push it all of the way in, instead he stopped and waited.

“Does that feel ok?” he asked gently as he kissed your shoulder.

“Feels so good,” you moaned. “Keep going.”

He filled you up slowly until he was completely buried inside you. He rested his forehead on your shoulder with a long groan. “God… you feel even better than I imagined.”

With a breathy laugh, you pushed your hips backwards. “So you’ve been imagining this?”

Five grasped your hips tightly and slammed his dick harder and deeper with a forceful thrust. He smiled when you cried out. “This and a lot more.”

“Tell me,” you whimpered as he continued to fuck you hard from behind.

“I imagined fucking you in those short little skirts you wear,” he groaned. “Fucking you on the bus with the lights out and you riding my cock.” His voice came out in clipped grunts as he railed into you. “Fucking you on stage in front of everyone.”

“Oh fuck… Five.” You gasped in a lungful of air while your entire body was shoved back and forth and the headboard rhythmically slammed against the wall. “I would let you.”

“You’d let me fuck you in front of hundreds of people?”

You nodded desperately, trying to talk through moans and whines. “I want everyone to see what they’re missing out on.”

Five chuckled softly before suddenly pulling out. Before you could ask him why, he was flipping you onto your back and crawling on top of you. You automatically opened your legs for him and he slipped his entire length inside again. Five gazed down on you, a small smile on his lips. 

“On second thought,” he said before lowering himself to kiss you. “I don’t think I want to share.”

With your legs wrapped tightly around him, he continued to kiss you, deep and long, swirling his tongue around yours. His pace started to quicken and your nails dug into the muscles of his back. Five brought his hand up to the side of your face, sliding his thumb into your mouth and onto the flat of your tongue. You closed your lips around it.

After a few more fast and hard pumps, you felt your climax come on strong and sudden. You clamped down around him as your body shuddered helplessly. Your tongue ring pressed against his thumb as you made high-pitched mewling noises and shaky sobs.

As soon as Five saw you lose yourself, he followed, stilling against you and groaning low in his chest while his eyes squeezed shut and he held your chin with his hand, his thumb still in your mouth. 

“Ah… fuuuckk,” he breathed out, collapsing onto you and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He removed his thumb from your mouth as you caught your breath. Your hand came to rest in his hair, raking your fingers slowly through it as he laid against your chest. Neither of you said anything, and after a minute he pulled out and adjusted himself so that he wasn’t lying directly on top of you anymore. You turned to face him and he pulled you in with an arm tightly around your waist. He gave you a lingering kiss and smiled.

You kissed his chest and he hugged you even tighter. “You’re going to crush me,” you said with a laugh.

“I’m cold again, I need you to warm me up.”

“Well, I’m not a glow stick! I don’t work by cracking me in half!”

Five laughed and loosened his hold on you. “Sorry.”

You used your powers to warm both of you up and Five sighed. “I could get used to that.”

“Are you saying you might not mind sharing a bed with me again?”

He tilted your face up by your chin and kissed you softly on the lips. “Honey, if you suck my cock with that magical tongue of yours again, I will sleep anywhere you want me to.”

You hummed quietly and traced the outline of his lips with your fingertip. “I think you’re the one with the magical tongue.”

He kissed you again. “Just my tongue?”

“Maybe some other body parts, as well.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said quietly before rolling you onto your back. He continued kissing you, his hand stroking your hair and face while his body pressed against yours. You could feel him hardening against your thigh.

“Even though this worked in my favor,” Five murmured in between heated kisses. “I’m still going to kill Klaus.”

You nodded before tipping your head back so he could attack your neck. “Oh absolutely. I’m going to freeze all of his underwear and burn all of his socks.”

Five made a growling noise in his throat as he rubbed his dick between your legs. “Yes, do that. Then I’m going to kill him.”

Your laugh was cut short as Five entered you again, his mouth on yours while he thrusted lazily into you. 

Five paused for a moment to look down on you with one eyebrow raised and a crooked smile. “I don’t care if there are a hundred beds or zero beds going forward. You’re sleeping with me from now on.”

He continued his rhythmic, perfect fucking and you laid a hand on the side of his face. “I think I can deal with that.”

[emperordinozenmon]

Roommates

Despite Dio’s love of fantasy I had him write something a bit more down to earth.

Yuma was jolted awake by a cacophony of sounds no one should have to process before sunrise—screaming, moaning, and the unmistakable gnashing of teeth.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, dead-eyed, willing the noises to be anything else. A horror movie. A particularly aggressive raccoon in the vents. Anything but what he knew it was.

With a long, theatrical sigh, he swung his legs out of bed and trudged toward his bedroom door. As he opened it, the sounds only intensified, confirming his worst suspicion.

There they were. Niles and Sunny. His roommates. Half-dressed and tangled on the living room couch like a pair of exhibitionist eels, completely unbothered by the fact that they had walls and doors in this apartment.

Yuma didn’t even flinch. His eyes briefly locked with Sunny’s over Niles’s shoulder—an awkward moment of accidental acknowledgment—and then he quietly closed the door.

Back in the safety of his room, he reached for his speaker, turned the volume up to something just below “deafening,” and flopped back onto his bed.

“I need a new roommate,” he muttered, the bass thumping beneath him as if agreeing.

By the next afternoon, the mission had begun.

He started scrolling through roommate matching forums, housing apps, even mildly sketchy subreddits. A few interviews and even more red flags later, he stumbled upon someone with the username RedRacer95. Their profile picture was a pixelated image of Red Racer from Gekisou Sentai Carranger, and their bio simply read:

“Just trying to keep my engine clean and my vibes cleaner.”

Yuma raised an eyebrow but kept reading. The way they typed—direct, meme-literate, and just self-deprecating enough—made him think this was probably someone in their early twenties with at least a functioning grasp on hygiene and personal space.

The two hit it off quickly, trading messages about toku shows, bad roommates, and the eternal struggle of splitting Wi-Fi bills. Yuma hadn’t even met them in person yet, but for the first time in a long time, he felt cautiously optimistic.

Maybe—maybe—he’d finally found someone who wouldn’t traumatize him on a Tuesday morning before coffee.

Three months later.

The morning was unusually crisp for late summer, and Yuma was standing outside his new apartment complex with a dolly full of boxes, balancing a coffee cup between his teeth and internally repeating his moving mantra: Don’t drop anything, don’t make eye contact with weird neighbors, don’t drop anything.

So far, so good.

He glanced down at his phone again. Red Racer—his future roommate, texting under their real name now—had said they’d be a little late but were bringing snacks and energy drinks. Yuma assumed that meant some guy in joggers and a racing tee who’d pull up in a beat-up hatchback blasting Eurobeat.

So when the black luxury van pulled up and a small cluster of people jumped out—stylists? handlers? security?—he nearly dropped the dolly.

And then she stepped out.

Eunbi Kwon. Not just a K-pop idol. The K-pop idol. The one with three platinum albums, a sold-out world tour, and a rabid fanbase that once doxxed a radio host for mispronouncing her name. She was casually dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, but her face was unmistakable.

Yuma blinked. “…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

She spotted him, grinned, and jogged over—totally unbothered by his slack-jawed stare. “Yuma?”

“Uh. Yeah.” He tried not to stare. Failed.

She offered her hand. “Red Racer. But you can call me Eunbi now.”

He didn’t shake her hand. He just looked at it, then at her again, then at the dolly, like this was some kind of elaborate prank and the punchline was in one of his boxes.

“You—you’re Red Racer?” he asked finally, voice cracking like a teenager hitting puberty for the second time.

“Technically I’m RedRacer95, but yeah.” She shrugged. “I told you I loved Carranger. Why’d you think my username was ironic?”

“I don’t know, everyone’s ironic on the internet,” Yuma blurted. “I thought you were like, a guy. In a hoodie. Eating ramen. Not a—K-pop juggernaut with her own Funko Pop.”

Eunbi laughed, bright and unfiltered. “I mean, I do eat ramen. Usually after midnight. Sometimes shirtless.”

Yuma was absolutely, positively malfunctioning.

She leaned in slightly, amused. “So, we still roommates? Or do I need to find someone else to split the rent?”

“I—I—yeah, no, yeah, we’re—this is fine. Totally fine. Great.” He pointed at the dolly. “That’s your half of the kitchen.”

“Sweet. I brought kimchi and three slow cookers. Let’s ride.”

As they entered the building together, Yuma couldn’t help but look at her sideways, still trying to reconcile the meme-loving tokusatsu nerd he’d messaged with the woman walking beside him—glamorous, chill, and absolutely real.

Somewhere deep in his soul, he heard the faint cry of thousands of stans screaming in jealousy. And then the quiet, creeping realization:

He was going to die trying to pretend this was normal.

But the longer they lived together, the harder it became to keep up the charade—mostly because Eunbi Kwon, global icon, was startlingly, disarmingly normal. Clingy, sure. Occasionally dramatic. But normal in the kind of way that made you forget who she was until you saw her face on a billboard and remembered that you’d seen her eat string cheese in a Snorlax onesie the night before.

When she wasn’t booked, filmed, photographed, or swept away to rehearse choreography at ungodly hours, she was home—barefoot, barefaced, and curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her like a burrito. She and Yuma—Yumaton, as she stubbornly insisted on calling him in full like some sort of Digimon evolution—would marathon Digimon Tamers, Carranger, or whatever off-brand mecha series they were currently obsessed with. They argued over opening themes, ranked transformation sequences, and once spent an entire night trying to figure out if Agumon could beat a Gundam in a fight.

It was chaotic. And easy. And kind of perfect.

As days blurred into weeks and weeks into months, something subtle shifted. They didn’t just share space—they began to share pieces of themselves.

Eunbi, once cryptic and media-trained to within an inch of her life, started cracking open. She’d pad into the kitchen in the middle of the night with bed hair and eyes still heavy from sleep, mumbling about dreams or the pressure to keep smiling during interviews. Yuma didn’t press. He just listened. Let her talk. Made her tea.

And somewhere in that soft, unspoken space, they became friends. Real ones.

Yuma started keeping her favorite peach ramune and honey butter chips stocked in the fridge without her asking. He even learned how to cook the particular kind of bland comfort porridge she liked when she was sick or emotionally fried.

He also dusted off her little Christmas tree once a week—the tiny plastic thing she had proudly placed in the middle of their dining table the day she moved in. It was glittery, crooked, and decorated with mismatched charms and fandom pins. It stayed up year-round. At first, Yuma had thought it was a joke. But Eunbi treated it with sincere reverence, occasionally rearranging its tiny ornaments like it was a sacred altar.

In return, she tried not to blast Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” every time she came home, though sometimes the temptation got the better of her. On those days, Yuma would just sigh and let her dance through the apartment in oversized socks like it was December 24th.

They fell into that rhythm without noticing—inside jokes, shared playlists, quiet understanding. It wasn’t glamorous, or dramatic, or anything out of a tabloid. It was better.

It was theirs.

And in the quiet corners of those days, Yuma started to realize: maybe this wasn’t so hard to pretend was normal after all.

Maybe, it was.

The elevator dinged on the 9th floor with the usual sluggish groan, and Yuma stepped out, shoulders hunched under the weight of another long shift. His bag felt heavier than it should’ve, his earbuds were dead, and the sunset had already dipped below the buildings, leaving the hallway cast in that sterile blue-gray of early evening.

He just wanted to get inside, kick off his shoes, and maybe sink into the couch like a corpse.

He unlocked the apartment door and pushed it open, already toeing off his sneakers—only to be hit with the comforting hum of the living room TV and the familiar jingle of anime dialogue in the background.

He blinked.

Eunbi was sprawled on the couch in an oversized hoodie, legs curled under her, a half-empty can of Sprite balanced precariously on the armrest. On screen, Oresuki played, its chaotic romantic hijinks washing through the room like low-level emotional static.

She looked up the moment he walked in.

Her face lit up.

“Yumaton!!” she squealed, practically throwing the can onto the coffee table as she jumped up.

Before he could even respond, she bounded across the room in socked feet and launched herself into him, arms wrapping tightly around his torso.

Yuma staggered slightly, caught off guard, but instinctively steadied her. “Whoa—careful, you’re going to break something. Possibly me.”

“I missed you so much,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “It’s been forever.”

“It’s been eight hours,” Yuma deadpanned, though he didn’t move to let her go.

“Eight agonizing hours,” she corrected dramatically, squeezing tighter. “And I finished the first arc of Oresuki alone. I suffered. In solitude.”

He chuckled, low and tired. “Truly, the greatest tragedy of our time.”

Eunbi pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes soft, her expression suddenly quieter, more honest.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Something in the way she said it landed differently. Not casual. Not performative. Just… full of something warm and unguarded. Like she meant it—not just because he paid rent or brought her favorite snacks or killed spiders in the bathroom. But because he was the one who walked through that door. Because she missed him.

Yuma’s heart stuttered, the fatigue from the day sinking a little more gently now.

“I’m glad I’m home too,” he murmured.

She smiled, radiant and crooked, and tugged him toward the couch. “Come on. I saved the best episode. We’re watching it together, or I riot.”

He let her drag him down into the cushions, the hoodie she wore soft against his side, the can of Sprite fizzing gently in the background.

Outside, the city buzzed on without them.

Inside, it was warm. Familiar. Home.

It started as a distraction.

Yuma had been sitting at his desk, supposed to be working on a client’s branding mockup, but instead he found himself idly scrolling through his browser tabs. His fingers moved on autopilot. One moment, he was flipping through color palettes. The next, he was on a ticketing site.

LE SSERAFIM – Seoul Encore Show.

He hesitated. His cursor hovered over the event banner.

It wasn’t like he’d never listened to their music before—Eunbi played their songs around the apartment all the time, usually while dancing in pajama shorts and an old Twice hoodie. Sometimes she’d drag him into spontaneous choreography practice, laughing as he flailed helplessly through half-remembered moves. He’d grumble about it, but the truth was, he always looked forward to those moments.

Still, he couldn’t explain why he clicked on the ticket page.

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was muscle memory. But within seconds, he was scanning seat maps and availability.

Without thinking, he selected two tickets. Good seats. Not nosebleeds, not VIP. Just… good.

One for him. One for her.

His thumb paused over the checkout button.

That’s when it hit him.

Wait—why am I buying two?

He stared at the screen.

It wasn’t just the act itself. It was the reflex. He hadn’t even questioned it. As soon as the idea had entered his head, he’d assumed Eunbi would be coming with him. That they’d go together. That she’d throw on a bucket hat and mask, hum along during the ballads, maybe grip his hand when the crowd roared too loud.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Oh.

It felt like someone had pulled a curtain back in his mind, revealing a room he’d been living in without realizing.

The late-night conversations. The way he automatically checked the fridge for her favorite snacks. How he’d started noticing when her laugh was genuine and when it was one of the fake ones she used on camera. The comfort of her head resting on his shoulder during movie marathons. The ache in his chest the one time she was gone for a whole week and didn’t text back until the fourth day.

He hadn’t just grown used to her presence.

He needed it.

I like her.

It was quiet. Simple. Obvious in hindsight.

And terrifying.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the two digital tickets still waiting to be confirmed. His heart thudded—not fast, but deep, like the beginning of a song that was just starting to build.

Was this stupid? Maybe. She was Eunbi Kwon—bright, untouchable, beloved by millions.

But when she was home, curled up on their couch in mismatched socks and humming along to anime openings with Sprite in her hand—she felt like his.

He clicked confirm.

The tickets slid into his inbox with a soft ding.

Yuma closed his laptop slowly, like the sound might echo through the apartment and give him away. But everything remained still. The quiet hum of life beyond his door. The knowledge that in a few minutes, she’d probably emerge from her room asking if he wanted to finish Oresuki.

And he would say yes.

Because he always said yes to her.

And maybe… maybe soon, he’d find the courage to say more.

Meanwhile Eunbi was going through her own little realization of her own.

The studio was hot, loud, and soaked with the faint scent of body spray, floor polish, and sweat.

Eunbi had been at it for hours—breaking down steps, adjusting her angles, and counting beats under her breath while the track played on repeat. Her new comeback was intense. Faster choreography. Tighter transitions. More emphasis on power and sharpness. She loved it—but it was the kind of love that came with bruises and exhaustion.

She missed her couch. She missed Digimon. She missed—

WHACK.

Her foot slipped just slightly during a spin, and her balance shifted the wrong way. She caught herself quickly, but not before knocking her elbow into a speaker stand.

“Ah, crap—” she muttered, clutching her arm and trying to shake it off.

Then, deadpan, in perfect English: “Well, that sucks. I’mma go jump off the roof.”

The music cut out instantly.

All eyes turned to her.

A beat of stunned silence passed. One of her backup dancers—Jiwoo—lowered her water bottle mid-sip, eyebrows raised.

Eunbi blinked, then waved it off casually. “Oh, that’s just my roommate. Yuma. That’s his signature saying. He says it like five times a week.”

Everyone relaxed, half-laughing, half-staring. Jiwoo narrowed her eyes with a smirk.

“Wait… Is this the same guy who takes care of your little Christmas tree shrine and keeps your Sprite stocked like it’s medicine?”

Eunbi grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. That’s him.”

Jiwoo let out a soft laugh, shook her head, and walked away, muttering something about “must be nice.”

Eunbi turned back toward the mirror, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, but her reflection looked a little… off. Not wrong, just softer.

She replayed the moment in her head. How natural it felt to invoke Yuma like he was part of her day-to-day language. Like a second heartbeat. The way her body had instinctively leaned toward the idea of him—his sarcastic commentary, his sleepy-eyed smiles, the dumb jokes he’d mutter under his breath just to make her laugh.

Without warning, a small ache bloomed behind her ribs.

Not painful. Just… present.

I miss him.

Not home, not my bed. Him.

His voice in the morning. His hoodie she always stole. The way he looked at her sometimes, like she wasn’t an idol at all—just a girl who loved tokusatsu and put too much sugar in her tea.

She shook herself out of it, snapped her fingers, and called for the music to start again. She had a show to perfect. A comeback to own.

But as the beat dropped and her body moved through the steps like muscle memory, she couldn’t help the way her mind drifted—

—to the weight of Yuma’s arm slung lazily over her shoulder as they fought for the last chip. —to his voice humming some dumb Digimon song from the kitchen. —to the unshakable thought:

I wanna go home. I wanna go home to him.

Eunbi had just fifteen minutes between rehearsals. Her makeup artist was touching up another dancer, and her choreographer was resetting the sound system. So she did what any exhausted idol would do in the lull—curled up in the corner of the practice room, hoodie pulled over her head like a tent, and let the hum of the studio fade into the background.

She didn’t mean to fall asleep.

But exhaustion crept in like warm fog, and before she knew it, her mind was drifting.

⸻

They were back in the apartment, lights dimmed, the TV flickering with nostalgic warmth. The Digimon Adventure tri. movie was playing, the voices of old characters filling the room like a lullaby of childhood.

Yuma was sitting beside her, in that hoodie she always stole—except now it was off, tossed somewhere, and he was in a fitted black tee that made her mouth go dry in that not-so-innocent kind of way.

She was curled against him, blanket pulled over both their laps, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Hey,” she asked lazily, “which Digimon makes you think of me?”

Yuma glanced down at her with a smirk, his eyes soft but mischievous. “Mastemon.”

She blinked. “Mastemon? Really?”

He nodded, voice low and teasing. “Sweet, compassionate, noble… but also? Built like a war goddess. A literal body for sin.”

Eunbi’s face burned. In the dream, she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks.

“Yuma!” she gasped, swatting his chest halfheartedly.

He just grinned. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

She opened her mouth to argue, to fire back with some quip—but nothing came out. Because deep down, she liked hearing it. Liked the way his voice wrapped around her name, the quiet heat in his eyes when he looked at her like she was both sacred and dangerous.

And then, as if possessed by some other version of herself—bolder, braver—she leaned in.

“Well then,” she murmured, eyes half-lidded, lips just a breath away from his, “let’s sin together.”

Yuma didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate.

He tilted his head just slightly, a crooked smile playing on his lips as he closed the gap—

⸻

And then she jolted awake.

The fluorescent lights above her buzzed softly. Her hoodie was bunched beneath her cheek, her phone had slipped to the floor, and her heart was racing.

She blinked rapidly, disoriented, her pulse pounding in her ears.

It had been a dream.

Just a dream.

But her body was still warm from it. Her lips tingled. Her chest felt like it was holding something back—something real.

Oh no.

She sat up slowly, brushing a hand through her hair as the lingering sensation of Yuma’s voice echoed in her memory.

Sweet, compassionate, noble… body for sin.

She covered her face with both hands, groaning. “I’m so in trouble.”

This wasn’t just a crush. Wasn’t just comfort. She had feelings—messy, spiraling, very real feelings.

For her roommate.

Her best friend.

The boy who refilled her Sprite and rolled his eyes when she blasted Christmas music in April. The one who bought her a Digimon plush last month without saying anything, just because he thought it looked like her.

Eunbi sighed, pulling her knees to her chest.

She didn’t just miss Yuma. She wanted him—in the movie night, hoodie-sharing, falling-asleep-on-the-couch, heart-racing kind of way.

And now she knew.

No more pretending.

No more brushing it off.

She was in deep.

By the time they both were done with their work weeks they had dragged themselves back to their apartment.

Friday Night

The door creaked open at nearly the exact same time.

“Ugh,” Yuma groaned as he trudged in, bag sliding off his shoulder like it had personally offended him.

Eunbi followed seconds later, baseball cap pulled low over her face and sunglasses still on despite it being well past sunset. “I swear, if one more person asks me to ‘just show a little more shoulder’ in rehearsal—”

“—I’ll start flipping tables,” Yuma finished for her with a tired smirk.

She snorted, kicking her shoes off and dumping her gym bag. “God, you get me.”

They barely even said hi. No hug. No big reunion. They just drifted into each other’s space like two puzzle pieces slotting into place after a long day apart.

The front door clicked open just as Eunbi was toeing off her shoes. She turned her head at the same time Yuma did, both of them standing there—slumped, drained, and looking like they’d barely survived the week.

“…you look like roadkill,” she muttered, voice hoarse with fatigue.

Yuma dropped his keys in the dish by the door and gave a low, gravelly laugh. “Takes one to know one, babe.”

She smiled—tired, but real—and without thinking, held out her arms.

He stepped into the hug without hesitation, resting his forehead on her shoulder for a long beat. No tension. No awkwardness. Just quiet, bone-deep comfort.

Eunbi flopped onto the couch with a long sigh. Yuma dropped beside her, leaning his head against her shoulder. She patted his thigh. He rubbed her back.

And then, without thinking—

“Wanna help me make fried rice, babe?”

“Yeah, sure, love,” Yuma murmured, yawning as he stood.

Neither of them blinked at the pet names.

⸻

Saturday Morning

They shuffled around the kitchen in oversized hoodies and mismatched socks. Yuma was stirring eggs. Eunbi was chopping green onions, still humming a Le Sserafim B-side under her breath.

“Careful with your fingers, baby,” Yuma said without looking.

“You’re the one who almost dropped the pan yesterday, sweetie.”

He snorted. “Touché.”

They brushed past each other, instinctively pressing soft kisses to each other’s cheeks in the narrow kitchen space like it was nothing. Like they’d been doing it for years. Like it was normal.

Eunbi didn’t even realize she’d stolen his hoodie until he tugged at the sleeve and said, “Hey, is that mine?”

She pulled it tighter and grinned. “It’s ours now.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him.

Eunbi was pouring pancake batter into a hot pan while Yuma hunted for the maple syrup with one eye still closed. She was wearing his gray sweats. He was wearing her headband to keep his bangs out of his eyes.

“Don’t burn it again, babe,” he said without looking.

“I swear to God if you jinx me—” she muttered.

They brushed past each other. He kissed her cheek instinctively. She grabbed his waist as she reached for a mug behind him. Neither acknowledged it, because it was so normal now.

Yuma watched her grab the last Sprite from the fridge and grinned.

“You owe me one.”

“I owe you like, twelve,” she said with a smirk, cracking an egg with one hand like a pro. “Keep tally.”

Sunday Afternoon

They were in a blanket pile on the couch watching some off-brand fantasy anime with terrible animation and amazing music. Their phones buzzed occasionally, but neither looked at them. Eunbi’s head rested on Yuma’s thigh, and he absentmindedly played with the drawstring on her hoodie.

Yuma reached for the envelope on the coffee table.

“Oh,” he said, almost like it wasn’t a big deal, “got us something.”

Eunbi sat up slowly as he handed her the tickets.

Two glossy passes to Le Sserafim’s Seoul concert. Front section.

Her brows lifted. “Wait. You got these?”

“Yeah,” Yuma said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was looking for a concert to go to, just something fun, and I saw their dates. I guess I just… I dunno. Reflexively bought two. Thought it’d be cool to go with you.”

Eunbi blinked, holding the tickets like they were delicate. “You thought of me?”

“Of course I thought of you,” he said simply. “You’re my favorite concert buddy.”

There was something in his voice—light, casual—but underneath it… something else.

She was quiet for a second, then smiled a little. “You know we’ve been acting like an old married couple lately, right?”

Yuma tilted his head. “Have we?”

Eunbi gave him a look. “You call me babe. I kiss your cheek when I’m cooking. We share hoodies and playlists and I literally can’t drink Sprite now without thinking of you.”

Yuma laughed under his breath. “Well. When you put it like that…”

“Yuma.”

His gaze softened, and he leaned in, elbows resting on his knees.

“I didn’t mean to fall into this,” he said quietly. “But I didn’t fight it either. You… make it easy.”

Eunbi’s throat went tight. Her fingers curled around the tickets. “Yeah,” she whispered. “You too.”

They sat there, quiet and close, the room glowing gold from the late afternoon sun.

Outside, the city kept moving.

But in their little apartment, time held still—for just a second longer—as two best friends quietly realized they weren’t just best friends anymore.

The Night Before the Concert at a cozy izakaya tucked in a quiet Seoul alley—paper lanterns swaying in the breeze, the scent of grilled meat and sake in the air. While Eunbi and Yuma were on a double date with Niles and Sunny avoiding their feelings.

Yuma was sipping a plum soda, hunched slightly over the low table, while Niles theatrically argued with the server about whether or not “extra garlic” meant “a stupid amount of garlic.”

Sunny, cheeks already flushed from one shot of soju, leaned closer to Eunbi, whispering loud enough for the whole table to hear, “You know what’s wild?”

Eunbi blinked, chopsticks hovering over a sizzling plate of pork belly. “What?”

“You and Yuma are a better couple than me and Niles,” Sunny declared, grinning like a drunk prophet. “And me and Niles are literally married.”

Eunbi coughed—choked, really. Her hand flew to her chest.

Yuma’s head jerked up. “Wait—what?”

Niles groaned into his beer. “It was a Vegas thing. We don’t talk about it.”

Sunny waved a dismissive hand. “That’s not the point. The point is that you two—” she gestured between Eunbi and Yuma with her chopsticks, “—are grossly domestic. Like, I half-expected you to bicker about who left the towel on the bathroom floor and then kiss on the mouth.”

“Sunny—” Eunbi hissed, cheeks glowing scarlet.

Yuma laughed nervously. “It’s not like that…”

“Oh, babe,” Sunny said sweetly, “you call her ‘baby’ in three different tones depending on whether she’s tired, mad, or wearing your hoodie.”

The table went dead silent.

Even the sizzling grill felt like it stopped mid-pop.

Eunbi stood up abruptly. “Excuse me. Bathroom.”

Yuma shot up right after her. “Same. Too much soda.”

Sunny lifted her shot glass to Niles with a smug little smirk. “And that’s how you break a years-long stalemate, honey.”

Inside the quiet dimly lit Bathroom Hallway away from the laughter and clatter of the izakaya.

Eunbi was leaning against the wall, arms folded tightly over her chest, lips pressed into a line.

Yuma approached carefully, standing just close enough to share the space, but not close enough to assume anything.

“She was joking,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Eunbi replied. “That’s what scares me.”

Yuma blinked. “Scares you?”

Eunbi exhaled slowly. “Because it wasn’t wrong. Not really. We’ve been doing this dance for months. Cooking together. Sleeping in each other’s hoodies. Saying goodnight like it means something.”

“It does mean something,” he said, without hesitation.

She turned her head, eyes searching his face.

“It does?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Yuma nodded, throat tight. “I didn’t buy those tickets just because I like concerts. I bought them because I wanted to go with you. Because you’re the person I want beside me—whether it’s screaming in a stadium or watching Digimon reruns in our pajamas.”

Her breath caught.

“And if you’re scared,” he added, “then I’m right there with you. But I’d rather be scared with you than keep pretending we’re just roommates who accidentally became each other’s favorite person.”

Silence.

Then: a soft, shaky laugh from Eunbi.

She looked at him, eyes misty, lips curling into a smile. “God, I was really about to kiss you in a bathroom hallway, huh?”

Yuma’s voice dropped. “What if I want you to?”

Eunbi took a step closer. “Then don’t stop me.”

And just like that, the dam broke—not with fireworks, but with a shared breath, a soft laugh, and the taste of plum soda and longing on a kiss that had been waiting months to happen.

[non-plutonian-druid]

[ID: Several sets of drawings from the TUA Paranatural au, drawn in a style resembling Paranatural's.

The first are two drawings ofLila as an adult; one in casual clothes and short partially bleached hair from season one; and the other in a commission-style suit with two long braids.

The second is a very sketchy comic. Klaus asks, "You're MARRIED??? To a WOMAN?" and then continues, "Wait Five, are you straight??" Five, looking disgruntled, replies, "Oh my fucking god Klaus." Later, Five lies on the floor and googles "Are you still straight if your wife is a centipede."

The third is a pair of drawings of the Handler harassing Five; the first ten years before the second. In the first, Five is a teenager and the Handler has long hair and is wearing a suit. She is pinching his cheek. In the second, Five is an adult and the Handler now has short hair and is wearing a gown. She is booping his nose.

The last is a set of drawings of @sharkneto's oc's from his series Holding It Together; Sarah, Amanda, and Rob. Sarah is checking her phone, Amanda is holding a piece of chalk, and Rob looks spooked and is saying "...Ghosts?" End ID.]

i call this the Paranatural Au: Dubiously Canonical Edition

aka over the course of drawing this au ive accumulated stuff that isnt super canonical, or is out of date, or is just. too dumb. to really post on its own, so i decided to toss them all together in one go!

the ID is long so the context is going under the cut

the adult lila designs are from when i wasn't sure what exactly i was going to do with her, whether she would be a kid or an adult. Now that i've decided she's twelve like most of the rest of the cast, this design is noncanonical but i do still think it was fun!

five being harassed by the handler isnt *precisely* noncanonical, but in the absence of the crazy assassin skills/wanting to kill her combo, she probably wouldn't be as fixated on him. Like, thats not a hyper successful assassin she can match wits with, thats a teenager. who gives a shit about teenagers.

The idea behind her outfits is that ten years ago the handler wasn't as high up so she had to wear a suit jacket like everyone else, but now that shes been promoted a few times she can wear whatever she wants.

the comic is a really stupid idea i had the other day that i decided to make into reality because i have infinite power to make any image i want. it's really dumb tho. also ftr my five is always aroace, but if he weren't aroace then being attracted to a sapient centipede monster with no human features is. Not straight. its not gay or bi tho either it's.... Something Else Other Than That.

also, i drew sharkneto's ocs because, once again, i have infinite power to make any image a reality. i havent decided yet if theyre canon, but if they are, then amanda teaches physics (i guess this is a middle school? so actually shes probably just a general science teacher lmao. but her year focuses on physics), sarah is a professor at a nearby college, and rob is the school counselor. (sorry guys yall are demoted, but its just because this is effectively a middle school au). also, none of them can see ghosts but are aware they exist, although i did kick around the idea of one of them developing that ability later (not rob). unless sharkneto has notes about all that lol

[antenanotaic3]

I couldn't help myself but make some lore

Au belongs to @madamadamiu

So the Overcat:

-actually cleans himself very often and even likes baths....but he keeps getting into fights with other cats. Sometimes he even attacks raccoons

-due to his rough aspect and the fact that he's more of an outdoor cat, he was caught and taken to a number of shelters on several occasions; if only he wouldn't keep on taking off his collar~ (eventually Tarantulas will chip him)

-keeps lurking around and entering the shelter to cause chaos for some reason; Fortress protects the other cats as much as he can; sometimes Whirl finds his way in the shelter while Rung is distracted by the intruder

-hates clothing accessories with a passion beyond the understanding of man

-meows a lot and I imagine his adult meow is very deep (but not deeper than Magnus' lol)

-has a biting problem(Prowl is his favourite human target btw)

-he is a compulsive eater and his sleep schedule varies a lot; takes antidepressants

-he doesn't react to catnip

-his favorite sleeping spot is the couch; and he won't let anyone else use it

-sometimes brings prey to Tarantulas(who cherishes it and keeps it stuffed or in the freezer because he's a lil weirdo).

-on the few occasions he's been at Prowl's place(Tarantulas insists on bringing him), he kept his distance from the Constructikitties; the kittens seem to like him though.

-in the past: after Megatron left and took over(is that how it went?) the colony, Overlord was on his own for a while. He kept looking for him and found the colony but he wasn't accepted after he severely injured Tarn. Megatron avoided him also; he never liked his presence. Spoiler alert: that didn't stop Overlord from trespassing their territory

Tarantulas:

-he is a sketchy respected university teacher specialized in genetics and chemistry. [Overlord likes to show up during his video calls btw(he needs attention).]

-spends most of his free time in his basement, working on venom based hallucinogens and his spider silk project for the fun of it; Overlord almost drank some once, which determined him to lock him up at times

-occasionally takes part in research regarding creating more humane substances for catching or putting down animals, but he doesn't limit himself to domestic ones

-in the past: when him and Prowl were together, they had a puppy (Springer) for a short while, but Prowl was the one taking care of the dog's needs. Springer was given away eventually to an old acquaintance, Kup who is a police dog handler. Kup trained the dog and which then ended up being one of the doggies of the police department together with the Wreckers. Tarantulas is very normal about the development (he stalks follows one of the officers' Instagram account (Carnivac) to make sure the doggo is happy).

-he took Overlord in sometime after Prowl got the Constructikitties; initially, he intended to get a cat from the shelter but he saw this fluffy jerk roaming around and decided he was the one.

-although he knows a few things about how he's supposed to raise a cat, he prefers to 'experiment' things. "Would he like this? Would he wear that? What if I buy him living pray?"

-sometimes asks Prowl for advice, partly as an strategy to get back together with him(it doesn't work); Prowl wants to face palm whenever he hears about the things he does.

Bonus DJD:

-Tarn, Tesarus, Vos and Helex are adopted by Kaon.

-Kaon works at an electricity distribution company; that's in fact a shell company; he's a poacher who is specialized in hunting big cats

When at home(mostly):

-Tarn spends most of the time in his backyard where Kaon grows some catnip for them

-the four refuse to sleep separately, so Kaon had to buy a large dog bed since otherwise all four of them would just want to sleep in his bed.

-The Pet is one of those flippable plushies(on one side fox and on the other cat), and it's Kaon's childhood toy; he has become a cat chew toy. (I can hear Rewind in the corner, threatening me with compromising videos)

-Nickel is adopted later as an emotional support animal for the four; she can be very loud sometimes

-they all have a scratching problem but Vos is the worst

-speaking of Vos he has some growth related bone problems due to early nutritional issues; he's undergoing treatment

-Tesarus is highly irritable and is also responsible for breaking the most objects around the house; hates being sprayed as punishment but is unrepentant

-Helex likes a bit too much to gnaw on cables and Kaon is desperate to find some way to stop him; he likes sleeping on the stove, but again, nothing Kaon does seems effective; he hates baths the most

-the four can often be found play fighting with each other(Nickel doesn't participate); another activity they like to do together is chasing other cats away from their territory

When away:

-Kaon's job takes him to a number of countries; he also brings his cats along because he can't bring himself to let them with someone else(is it a good idea? Probably not)

-they sleep for the most part in his travel trailer, but they also enjoy sleeping on his terrain car's engine

-the four hunt small rodents and birds at time

-Tarn is very afraid of gunshots; they remind him of thunder

-Nickel is anxious about leaving the house so she refuses to leave the trailer

-Vos fell into a hunter's trap once while he was exploring and Kaon searched for him for days; thankfully he survived somehow, but some of his injuries will stay with him forever

-Helex fell into a river once was accidentally pushed by Tesarus; thankfully it wasn't very deep, however: new fear unlocked

-Tesarus enjoys bullying Pallas cats

-during travel, the DJD cats can have Kaon's bed; Nickel sleeps in the cupboard though

Other:

-sadly Kaon dies in a car accident and the DJD cats return to the street again. They attempt to start a new colony but they are caught and taken to Deathsaurus' shelter

[hemipenal-system]

Malware I

Reveria rolled her eyes, servos clicking in a way only she could hear, blinking apathetically as she turned her music up. She understood the stares, as much as she despised them. Mugorra didn't get many synthetics like her, especially on Outer Ring trains. The long, heavy shawl she wore covered most of her slender body, both to keep the sand out of her joints and to deflect any further stares.

She wasn't exactly subtle – people of all kinds drifted through here, but being a foot taller than the average human with glowing orange eyes and an extra set of arms made one stick out.

The job was simple. Get in to the storage container, get the silver case, and get out. Perhaps a tier below the usual bloodshed for a KALI-6 class synthetic, but she was doing her best to lay low and take whatever jobs would get her least noticed.

She was trying to sit somewhat still. The case wasn't large, but it was stuffed under her shawl at the moment, and occasionally a corner poked out. She shifted her grip again, moving her hand on the handle for a more comfortable position.

ding

She heard the quiet internal chime and froze. That noise meant something had connected to her. Nothing should have been able to. The shawl had a Faraday cage sewn into the fabric, and it was snapped snug around her. Wireless signals shouldn't have been able to get through, unless-

Shit. The fucking case. She ducked down into the shawl quickly to inspect the case. When she had taken it, she hadn't looked thoroughly enough at it, and had apparently missed the quick contact port in the handle that now stared back at her, her thumb an inch from it after swiping across it when she shuffled it in her secondary arms.

[Download Requested]

Fuck. Every urge in her body was screaming at her to hurl the case away. She had to maintain a facade of order. If she got the case out of the shawl it would block the download, but she couldn't take it out without raising suspicion. This was a poor district. No one carried anything like it here. She couldn't even cancel or acknowledge the download request because she was set up for somakinetic controls and that kind of movement was out of the question.

[Download Proceeding]

What the fuck was she supposed to do about that? She couldn't contact her handler this far underground, and she doubted he'd even know how to fix a software issue with her. She'd foregone her normal backers and picked up a quick contract in the area from a sketchy Vinteran because she was trying to stay within city limits. Something had seemed wrong with him the entire briefing.

Many species got edgy around synthetics, especially KALI models, but this was something else. The whole time they talked, his eyes kept flicking to the door and across the room. Anywhere but her. She wasn't that intimidating, and most people in this business had dealt with scarier synths than her. She'd seen his arms. For as many tattoos as he had, each signifying a kill, she knew he'd seen worse.

Wait. There was another tattoo. Three triangles surrounding an S. Fuck. She sighed, more out of annoyance than actual worry. That slimy, two-faced scaly piece of shit was a Trigonalist. Of course. She'd worked with them before, but it was always born of desperate necessity. "Terrorist" was a strong term, but they weren't the best people out there.

That explained the job, then. She'd wondered why this case was being treated as so important. Lab-grown neurons were a dime a dozen, even out here, and a case that could hold maybe five or six brainslabs maximum couldn't have been worth what she was getting paid to retrieve it, especially since they were blank. But if they could get a small object inside her shawl and download something onto her, like remote access software or a location log?

Well, a KALI-6 class synthetic was decidedly not a dime a dozen anywhere.

[Download Complete]

She instinctively braced up, preparing herself. She'd been cyberattacked before, and she'd lived. She knew what to expect. It was probably going to either be excessive, disabling pop-ups or a logger she could sift through herself and cull later. Nothing too hard to handle.

She wasn't expecting the sharp, drowning techno in her ears to fade out and replace itself with soft jazz. Nor was she expecting the silk-smooth voice that seemed to rebound around the narrow train car, reverberating from everywhere and nowhere.

Hi, sweetie~

She tried to move her eyes, looking around for the speaker without moving her head.

Don't bother with that, darling, I'm still miles away from you! I'm surprised I could even get a connection down in those tunnels!

No one else seemed to be reacting to it. Everyone's faces were still cast down, trying not to make eye contact. It was too late at night for social interaction, especially with this trigger-happy crowd. Accidents happened down here all the time.

Oh, no one can hear me except you! Don't bother asking them for help. It'd be a shame if anyone were to think the big scary killsynth was attacking them. It would probably get... messy.

No one could hear the voice except for Reveria. That made it easier. If it was coming straight from an external source and being processed as speech, that was likely a remote access software. If she could activate a virus scrubber and get into a dead zone, it'd be easy enough to disable.

Oh no you don't, cutie. I'm all clientside. Besides, we're having fun, right?

She needed to know who this was. If she could hold onto this, she could take it into an Enforcement station. Granted, they likely wouldn't be happy to see her, but they'd most likely let her off for bringing in a Trigonalist. Disabling her external speakers, she cast her voice across the link.

Are you a synth? It was hard to know these days. Speech synthesizers had gotten so advanced since Reveria's assembly days.

No, I'm fully human, especially the bits that matter~

What's that supposed to mean?

Watch this! A new screen flicked open, overlaying above the occupants of the train car, showing a video at half transparency. It was enough to pick out details, at least. It just seemed to be... shapes? What was she looking at?

Oh. Oh, six suns. That was human genitalia. Close to the camera and at a strange angle, but still recognizable. Reveria watched with a combination of incredulous amazement and horror as the dripping hole a foot from her face was split open by pale, slender fingers capped with electric blue nails, index and pinky resting gently on the thighs as middle and ring curved delicately through the glistening pink flesh.

Could a synth do this? Technically yes, since most synths were modular enough to install... equipment down there, and some even accessorized with it as a fashion statement, changing it out by the day, but that was beside the point.

Is... is this live? In real time, I mean?

Obviously! Only the best for a pretty girl like you! The other hand, previously out of the camera, descended into the shot holding something that made Reveria's temperature jump up a bit.

Synths didn't really have genitalia, but plenty of aftermarket manufacturers made compatible items for them. She was ashamed to admit she owned a few of different makes and models, but a girl had needs. The voice in her head was holding one of Placebo's Bruiser models, one of Reveria's favorites. It was long and slender, with a ridged underside that featured a camouflaged electroconductive strip that boosted the signal from the partially conductive outer shell.

Said signal strength was entirely customizable for the enjoyment of the wearer, meaning when the voice ran her fingers slowly up the length then circled them around the pointed end, Reveria felt it all as she tried desperately to not buck her hips into the sensation, her body involuntarily seeking more stimulation for the appendage she didn't even have connected. Fuckin' wireless transmission...

Aww, does that feel good? Don't worry, I'll help you feel it~ Reveria tried to brace herself as the feminine words in her ear ran their fingers along the length again before angling it and pushing just the tip into herself. To the synth's immense embarrassment, she couldn't physically stop her hips from slamming forwards, immediately thanking whatever spectral forces existed that no one on the train noticed.

Oh? Someone wants me, huh? Here you go, then!

The synth stifled a scream as the voice slammed the entire length in at once, arching her back slightly for a better angle as the synth was forced to watch and feel all of it. The voice, for her part, was clearly also feeling it, as the constant noise attested. Reveria couldn't think clearly. No matter where she turned her head, she could see the human practically bouncing on it, to speak nothing of the feeling which only grew stronger as the human leaned forward. The synth could feel the human touching her, one hand on her shoulder and the other pressing her into the seat with a force that she knew wasn't real but certainly felt tangible enough.

She got a momentary relief from the constant whimpering in her ear when the brakes of the train activated, the loud screech drowning out all but the words, This is your stop! Don't miss it!

The moment the train had stopped, the needy whines returned. Reveria managed to stumble to her feet, shaking like a drunken Turvoss, and stagger off the train. She had barely made it to the platform before the fire in her midsection caught up to her and her legs practically buckled as the world was drowned out in a sea of white.

Fuck, Revi, don't just stop! I need you please don't stop now! The sensation of the length being ensheathed again was so much more powerful now, and if Reveria had been halfway lucid at this point she would have picked up on the fact that the human knew her name. As it was, that was far more thinking than she was capable of. All she could think about was getting home. She managed to pool her brain function enough to find and activate the tracker beacon in her rented room, the slender white line tracing out a path in front of her that she attempted to follow, one step at a time.

The feeling was overwhelming her. It was unprofessional, but she needed some time alone. If she had anything attached to relieve herself with, she likely would have lost her composure and done it right there in the station. As it was, she just moved through the station as fast as she could, shaky, desperate movements drawing stares that she was too deep in a world of need to notice or care about.

She was halfway up the stairs to exit the station when it happened again, her entire body twitching hard then going limp as she frantically grabbed a rail to avoid falling. The voice just laughed in her ear as she did. It was only three blocks to her building. She could make it.

She wasn't even up the stairs when the next one hit. They were getting faster and faster, her increased sensitivity after each making it easier to drive her over the edge for the next.

You gotta get home, okay? I need you to pick something out and fuck me for real~

Three blocks. It was three blocks.

This was the door. The white strip on the street took a sharp left through the narrow arch. She crossed the threshold, holding the doorframe for support as she climaxed again. How many times had she? Thinking about it was too hard. There was nothing in her head anymore except for that delicious whimpering that seemed to increase in intensity along with her. She just had to take the elevator up to the eighth floor and get into her room, then she could cut the signal.

The hallway looked the same as it always did. Bare. Stumbling to her door, she tried the knob. Locked. She just snapped it off. Any measure or restriction of her own strength was gone. The door swung open.

Something was wrong. Her brain was getting sluggish, but she retained enough evidence to realize this wasn't her room. The sand-brown walls she should have seen were dark and lit with purple LEDs, and the furniture was all arranged wrong. Soft jazz was playing.

She had a sudden break of clarity, and felt cold all of a sudden as the figure sitting in the back of the room, lit from behind by a computer monitor, pulled the toy from within herself and tossed it over. Reveria's hand instinctively shot up and caught it, the liquid on it glinting in the harsh hallway light. She checked the tracker beacon she had been following. Where she had expected reveria.home in the namespace, she saw instead DEN1ZEN. This wasn't her building.

Hi, Revi~

[astheworldgoesonitswickedway]

In The Carnivorous Carnival (this is based on the Netflix show, I need to brush up on this scene in the book), Count Olaf forces the Baudelaires to light the carnival on fire. I feel like there is a lot to talk about here. He physically grabbed them, and forced the torch down to start the fire. So why did everyone blame the Baudelaires for setting this fire and use it as "evidence" that they may be evil? Honestly, by all accounts, it was Count Olaf who did that. Now, they were in disguise during this scene but unbeknownst to them, he had already learned who they really were. It begs the question, why make them do it at all? If he was truly viewing them as "new recruits" it might make sense as a test. But he knew the Baudelaires would never willingly join him or participate in such things. It would have been faster and more effective to light it himself and move on. My best answer is that he wanted them to feel complicit in his crimes. He wanted to make them feel that guilt and horror. He wanted to plant doubt about who they really were and what they were really capable of. Probably as both revenge and a way to manipulate them later. What I really want to talk about is the way he said something like "My first time was hard too" He didn't say it in a normal chaotic Olaf way, so this could be one of those rare moments of honesty. It is interesting to see that despite the way he constantly wears this facade, there are a very few moments when he lowers his guard and responds genuinely. Not nicely. Just honestly. And those times usually occur around the Baudelaires with a few exceptions, which does not feel like a coincidence. Now, if this is one of those times, what exactly does this mean? We have always been led to believe Count Olaf loves fire/arson and always did. We are shown in the books that way back in their early V.F.D. days, Olaf had some sketchy tendencies. I had assumed fire was something he had always loved. But, the man with the beard but no hair and the woman with the hair but no beard. Here's the thing. The show tells us they took and twisted Olaf when he was young and vulnerable. I don't remember the books saying so, but considering Daniel Handler was involved in screenwriting and those two characters seem pretty consistent with their book counterparts, I'm willing to accept that as complete canon in both worlds. So, they were his "mentors" and his first time setting a fire was hard. Putting those two things together makes it seem likely they forced him to set that first fire, and he was not fully onboard at the time. How hard did Olaf fight becoming a villain? If arson didn't come naturally to him like we have assumed, then his first arson was something that both traumatized him and sealed his identity as a villain. Seeing someone so psychopathic, you automatically assume it was an "easy" and instantanious decline. But there's every chance Olaf took his time going downhill, and it was painful for him. Maybe even made him feel like he couldn't go back if he wanted to. Maybe this even connects back to my theory that at some point he stopped wanting to kill them and was tempted/wanted to keep them and twist them the way his mentors twisted him. Maybe in a really messed up way, he thought this was something they needed to do and was "helping them." I don't know really, but for whatever reason, Count Olaf saying his first fire was hard too, it just hurts a little.

Anyway. He’s still evil and horrible though.

[coldfruit123]

Name: Ruth B.

Hight: 6’2

Age: 31

Job: Prop Handler, First Assistant.

Green eyes, brown hair, large electrical burn scars on both her hands and lower arms. Butterfly tattoos on her upper back

Ruth B is a main member of the Prop Department, she is incharge of creating, maintaining and organizing the props for Welcome Home.

Ruth suffers from “big scary stoic woman” presents, but just get to know her even a little bit and you will never see her as scary again. She’s down to earth, loyal, honest and genuine.

With two nieces and a nephew now in her apartment, Ms. B works hard to support them and is trying her best everyday in this circus of a Studio.

She tries to keep her work life and social life Separate. 

(It’s not going well)

@frillsand

More words and images below :3

Ruth B. is a down to earth,  brick wall of a human woman. She suffers from resting ‘leave me alone or i’ll cut you’ face, which goes well with her stoic mountain creature vibs she gives off. 

Once she's more acquainted with a person she becomes this soft, gentle, genuine, goofy goober of a giantess that is the Mom Friend™.  She is also truthful to a fault, she tells you what's what and expects it from those around her. This is often too blunt and can come off a bit rude to some people. She’s working on that.

 If you need something, she probably has it either in her bag or in her work desk. Didn’t eat lunch? Here, have some granola bars. Got a cut doing something stupid? Enjoy this iodine and a bandage. Popped a stitch and didn't want to tell the onsite nurse? Okay, hold still while she carefully sews you closed with some strong thread and needle. You need to talk about something, pull up a chair and let it out.. 

She holds years of life experiences she gained from working a wide range of jobs. From electrician certified to motorcycle repairs, from Stage lighting assistant at a Drag club to sketchy construction works. 

Ruth has been working in the Props department for the past seven months after she resigned from her last job as a mermaid at the local aquarium. She doesn't leave the department unless the set needs something from the back.

Her main job is crafting, restoring, and keeping track of all the props in the studio. She also holds most of the brain cells in her department, that is until  prop master Mac leaves, then all bets are off. Ruth has made dumb and sometimes dangerous things just because there was no one around to stop her.

She has three kids, two nieces and a nephew, who are staying with her while their mom figures some things out. Ruth only had these kids for two months and if anything happens to them, not even the stars in the sky could stop her vengeance.

The kiddos

The Coworkers/Friends

She used to go to therapy once every other week, but now she attends at least once a week. She’s really working on herself to provide a better environment for her kids and friends.

She’s on good terms with most of the cast members. However it's hard to get to know people when you don’t leave your designated area.

Poppy comes into the Prop Department to make use of the “Hidden” nap nook when she gets too frazzled. Ruth offers her tissues, water snacks whenever the lovely bird needs them.

Sally and Julie have started coming in to chat, mostly about how nice and sweet Mr. Darling is and oh my gosh you should really work with him, he’s such a good guy!

Frank and Eddy are probably the ones she trusts the most with her kids. They just give off “Good Parenting” vibs. 

Ruth is no longer allowed to hang out with Barnaby and Howdy on set for they give each other the giggles with dad jobs.

Her relationship with Mr. Darling was very nonexistent for six out of the seven months she worked for Playfellow Studio. It wasn’t until she met him as her blind date did she even talked to the guy. She suffered some wild whiplash when the sweet, silly, little gentlemen she met turned out to be Playfellow Studio’s biggest and grumpiest drama queen, with a cruel catty attitude. Now, he seems to be popping up all over the place. 

There is soooo much more I want to add, but if anyone is I have more stuff on my TikTok, far too much to talk about here. 

There are comics, many many more original characters I haven't even mentioned here, character studies and all around shenanigans over there.

[aviatrix-ash]

If your alien heilo is misbehaving and/or you just need to pick them up but are worried about hurting them, grabbing them by the rotor head is an effective and safe method for both handler and Cybertronian. This will immobilize them and prevent them from rotating their blades by accident or in a defense scare tactic. Much like a momma cat picking up a kitten by the scruff of their neck.

It looks sketchy but the rotorhead here is connected in junction with the gearbox/transmission, these strongest points of the aircraft's frame and in fact can handle these types of stresses. :)

[starandcloud]

Dog handler Y/N

Dog Handler Y/N who raised their dog from a pup and trained him specifically for them

Dog Handler Y/N who named their Dog Max after their favorite childhood show "Max and Ruby"

Dog Handler Y/N who plays with Max on the helicopter ride to where they're meeting Price and the 141

Dog Handler Y/N who has to calm Max down because of how excited he is to see the boys again

Dog Handler Y/N who is always excited to work with new Allies

Dog Handler Y/N who was shaking Philip Graves' hand when Max growled

Dog Handler Y/N who gently began to pet Max's head, apologizing to Graves and explaining that Max was usually pretty friendly

Dog Handler Y/N who get their dog to calm down before going to shake the General's hand

Dog Handler Y/N who has to grab a hold of Max as he bites at the general

Dog Handler Y/N who looks down and Max then narrows her eyes at Graves and excuses themselves

"I think we should go..."

Y/N said as she led Max out of the meeting room, as soon as they were down the hall and around the corner Y/N bent down and gently rubbed Max's fur making the dog apologetically whine.

"You're okay bud, I know, they were giving me a sketchy feeling too..."

Y/N mumbled before smiling as Max licked their face.

COD Masterlist

Masterlist

[smoshsfavoritepizzaplace]

Hey, it's the anon who sent the first ask about all this Damien stuff. Been a minute, I honestly got way too stressed out about all this, but I stepped back and got some perspective yesterday. I think part of why a lot of us have gotten stressed out over this is because internet culture has engendered this desire for moral purity and gotten us into a habit of cancelling anyone who falls short of that. Now, I've seen plenty of cases where that kind of treatment is more than warranted. In this case, on the Damien side of things, it's just some personal choices a lot of us perceive as questionable. On paper, all he's really done is befriend someone with an allegedly sketchy past and believe them over a couple of his friends. Anyone in any relationship can do that. Yeah, if all the stuff about Chel is true, I'd prefer if he didn't affiliate with them, but that's his choice to make. And even if Chel's actions might reflect badly on him, he isn't responsible for them and shouldn't be made to answer for them. He can't control her actions, and we certainly can't control his relationships.

It's okay to feel uncomfortable with the situation. It's okay to disagree with his actions. But none of us should feel the need to make any sweeping moral judgements about his choices. At the end of the day, he's just a person capable of mistakes like all of us. And it's okay to still like and enjoy his work. As far as I'm aware, Chel hasn't had any sway over his professional career outside of being his con handler. We don't need to ruin our enjoyment of his content because of someone he met last year and who he might not even be in contact with next year. I know I'm kinda restating points the fandom elder made in their ask, but they're good points to remember. And as someone who has been in fandom and online spaces for over a decade, this situation doesn't even crack the top 10 worst controversies I've witnessed. This might be the last thing I have to say about this situation barring any crazy new information.

Very well said, I agree to the fullest. Since I think enough has been said, I will no longer answer asks about this. It seems like the perfect time to end this discussion honestly, I don’t want to over due it if I haven’t already. If I get any more asks I may or may not still post it but won’t write anything on it unless I of course have something to say. But unless you really want to get your words out there, I suggest not sending any more about it, hope you all understand

[jellybeanium124]

so between the handler & five weird vibes in s1 and 2, five getting a vision where he kisses adult-human!dolores in s3, and fivla, I'm not gonna up and say that blackman is a pedophile, because that is a very, very serious accusation that we should not be throwing around, but like, there is something creepy and gross here. it's the fact that it's a pattern, and that blackman's said that since five's body (aka aidan gallagher the real life human being who played five) was 18 now five could have a romance. like I have no proof that blackman ever touched anyone inappropriately or gd forbid abused aidan (other than the toxic work environment on set) but like this is sketch. it's sketchy.

[wid0wd-archived]

i wouldn't say natalia has daddy issues because she's so used to compartmentalise and it's been so long at this point she only cares so far but. the male figures in her life have always been a bit sketchy ( aside for one person )

ivan found her and took it upon himself to raise during the first decade of her life; he did what he could, nat was well fed and clothed, possibly a little spoiled considering his habit of calling her tsarina despite openly disliking the family she comes from besides for a few "good comrades". but between nat and his position in the army his priorities were always sorted - he didn't want natalia to go into an orphanage and pressed on taras romanov to take her in on account of the fact that they're related.

what makes me sick is that ivan saw natalia grow up, he was pretty much her handler throughout the red room program, and even then he never lost chance to throw her under the bus ( i genuinely think every time they'd manage to find her after an escape, it was his fault. you don't manage to disappear for months and years and then suddenly here's the army taking you back. they were tipped the positions )

taras is an asshole, there's not much to say about this. he owns an academy, he lets the black widow program happen right under everyone's nose. guess it's his way to prove he doesn't want to be linked to the royal family, but he never hesitates being a jerk to natalia whom quite frankly isn't even bothered by seeing his death. he's not exactly a father figure, but he was that uncle that is supposed to step up and instead he just watched as natalia was being torn apart and put back together. he had his death coming, though there's no denying that the event spins natalia's life in ways she could have never imagined ( i assume eventually at some point headmistress took over, and we know how that went )

in between ivan's absence post defection, natasha hoped nick fury could be that type of person for her. but when she first began working for shield he didn't trust her much, would use a version of the pheromone serum to make sure she would follow orders, was a misogynistic pos in general. mcu synergy helped them A LOT in this case, and despite his less than pleasing attitude they've found their footing and became a good team. i think it's ironic that every time she's in the absolute gutter with a situation, he finds a way to send her messages and redirect her mission.

i left him for last because natalia insists on calling him her uncle, but logan truly is the dad who stepped up for her starting right from the day taras was killed. logan did nat a favour truly, making her a witness was just the perfect occasion to set up an escape from the red room. it's implied nat fought alongside cap during ww2 so i assume at some point she crossed paths again with logan and thanked him for what he did ( even though she inevitably got caught again ). he cares for her without ulterior motives, always understands where she's coming from even when she's at her most unhinged. his family is hers too ... which is a lot more than she could have ever wished for as a kid.