#analog navigation

[techdriveplay]

Logitech Unveils the MX Creative Console

Logitech has officially launched its highly anticipated MX Creative Console, a revolutionary tool aimed at transforming how digital creators work. This innovative product is designed to provide creators with instant access to critical controls and fully customizable features, simplifying workflows and automating repetitive tasks, making it an ideal companion for artists, designers, and content…

[serpentface]

This was going to be a panel of a little comic but I got too invested in drawing minute background details so, here.

[prep4tomoro]

Use an Analog Clock as a Compass:

Using a Watch to Find North: The watch method for navigation is useful for finding the cardinal directions of: north, south, east and west. While not being 100 percent accurate, it is handy for crude navigation when a compass is not available and can head you in the correct general direction in camping, bushcraft, backpacking and survival situations. It is also useful in combination with other natural navigation methods found in this link and other resources.

If Located in the Northern Hemisphere: Align a twig (pointing up) at the edge of your watch so that it casts a shadow onto the face of the watch from the Sun. Rotate the watch until the twig's shadow (the Sun) is cast directly onto the hour hand. The halfway point between the hour hand and the 12-oclock mark is your North-South line. Note that during Daylight Saving Time (or Summer Time), your watch is most likely one hour "off" from the "real" time. If this is the case, substitute 1 o'clock for 12 o'clock before finding your North-South line. The halfway imaginary line will point to South If only a digital clock is available, draw an analog/dial clock (with the correct time) on paper or in the dirt.

If Located in the Southern Hemisphere: Align a twig (pointing up) at the edge of your watch so that it casts a shadow onto the face of the watch from the Sun. Rotate the watch until the twig's shadow (the Sun) is cast directly onto the 12-oclock mark. The halfway point between 12-oclock and the hour hand is your North-South line. Note that during Daylight Saving Time (or Summer Time), your watch is most likely one hour "off" from the "real" time. If this is the case, substitute 1 o'clock for 12 o'clock before finding your North-South line. The halfway imaginary line will point to North. If only a digital clock is available, draw an analog/dial clock (with the correct time) on paper or in the dirt.

[Reference Link]

Related Resources: Survival Navigation - Find Your Way Out Wilderness Shelter Fire Building for Cooking, Heat and Light Finding, Collecting and Purifying Water in the Wilderness Handling Injuries, Illness and First Aid in the Wild Checklist and Essential Tips for Campers

[11-Cs Basic Emergency Kit] [14-Point Emergency Preps Checklist] [Immediate Steps to Take When Disaster Strikes] [Learn to be More Self-Sufficient] [The Ultimate Preparation] [P4T Main Menu]

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[natureandphotography1]

📷 by natureandphotography1 (Flickr, Autumn Blog, Nerdy Blog)

Please do not remove credit :)

[hikercarl]

Your life without a computer: what does it look like?

Explore the essence of a vagabond hiker’s life without computers, where self-reliance, analog navigation, and handwritten journaling shape an intimate, instinctive connection with nature and fellow travelers.

Daily writing promptYour life without a computer: what does it look like?View all responses If I imagine life without a computer as a vagabond and hiker, things take on a much more rugged, grounded, and real quality. The digital tools I might once have leaned on for everything—from navigation to finding the next meal—would be stripped away, forcing me to reconnect with the raw world around me in…

[thotsfortherapy]

I've been told a lot of things about grief in my life. I've heard that it's a figure 8 with many ups and downs. I've heard it's a story you'll tell many times to get it right. I've heard it doesn't get smaller, the world just gets bigger around it.

I think the main takeaway is that grief is something you're going to have to face over and over again in your life. You will stand against it and be buffeted by the storm of it. Sometimes it will feel like the only thing you can do is hold on. Some days the sky will be clear and other days the clouds will be heavy. Eventually, you'll get more blue skies than grey. Eventually.

[neuloef]

JUST FOUND OUT ABT OPENCUBICPLAYER

LIKE!!!

LOOK AT HER!!!

SHES FUCKING GORGEOUS!!!!!!

[qulizalfos]

someone please take stupid metaphors AWAYYY FROM MEEEEE

[ooooooofy]

helloooooo

hi tumblr i'm back to my silly goofy carefree self. sooooo im trying to turn this account into a cute little blog where i mostly talk about and to myself, but also find other relatable content!! sooo if i follow you, HIII :> !! please just know i have nooooo idea what im doing on tumblr quite yet lol, i'm still trying to figure it out! gonna post a little introduction soon, or whenever i get around to it. smell ya later ;P

[lifeinspiration4all]

Life is Like a Highway: Navigating the Journey

Life is Like a Highway: Navigating the Journey Life is like a highway, a long and winding road that stretches before us, filled with twists, turns, and endless possibilities. As we travel this road, we encounter moments of smooth sailing and times when the path becomes challenging. The beauty of this journey lies in how we navigate each mile, embracing both the joys and the obstacles that come…

[fluentmoviequoter]

Chemistry Partners

Requested by anonymous but I lost the full request

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!PO!reader

Summary: Tim and Lucy assist you in locating a parolee in violation of his conditions. Lucy notices the undeniable chemistry between you and Tim, but doesn't expect Tim's response when she points it out.

Warnings: fluff, mention of prostitution, threat against r

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“CDCR, probation. How may I help you?” you say to answer the phone.

With the receiver tucked between your ear and shoulder, you look at your current list of parolees. The spreadsheet shows three red lines, and you frown as you read the names.

“Hi, I’m calling about Dexter Wheeler,” the woman on the phone says. “I believe he’s one of your parolees.”

Sitting up straighter, you reply, “Yes, ma’am, he is.”

“Well, I’m sorry to bother you and I’m sure it’s nothing, but he hasn’t been to work in three days. His conditions for employment allow him sick time and personal time, but he hasn’t notified us, and he isn’t answering the phone.”

“Okay, I am supposed to have a check-in with him tomorrow,” you read from your screen. “I’ll look into this and let you know. Thank you for the call.”

“Of course. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Nothing specific, no. Is there-  Did you notice any unusual behavior before his absence?”

“He had been a bit distant,” she answers. “Unwilling to answer questions, easily agitated.”

“Did he make any threats or become overly belligerent?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I just figured he was tired or maybe he wanted another job.”

“I’ll certainly find out what has been going on with him.”

“Thank you. Would you mind calling me back after you speak to him? I want to be sure he’s okay.”

“Of course. I’ll keep you updated. Thank you.”

You return the receiver to the phone cradle and navigate to Mr. Wheeler’s parole file. He hasn’t checked in with you recently, and he hasn’t filed any change of employment or violated any conditions of his parole in the past. He’s never been overly kind, but he was trying to stay on the straight and narrow when you first met him. You think your parolees deserve a second chance, but they must be willing to do the work and prove that their second chance won’t be wasted.

With your phone on speaker, you call Mr. Wheeler. It rings repeatedly until an automated message alerts you that Dexter’s voicemail is full. That’s not a good sign.

You log out of your computer, gather your things, and tell your supervisor you’re doing a surprise visit. She encourages you to alert the police, and you nod before you leave the office. There’s no reason to think Mr. Wheeler will do anything rash, but it is still a good idea to have the police on standby.

“My favorite podcast buddy!” Nell exclaims when she answers your call. “What can I do for you?”

“Hey, Nell,” you reply, hitting your blinker. “I’m going to a parolee’s house; he hasn’t been at work for three days and he isn’t answering my calls. Any chance you could put some officers on standby for me?”

“Of course. What’s the address?”

You recite it from memory, then thank Nell. With the promise of another true crime party, you end the call and approach Mr. Wheeler’s apartment complex. It’s neither the safest nor the most dangerous in Los Angeles. You survey your immediate surroundings and exit the car to walk up the cracking concrete walkway.

The buzzer echoes in the dim hallway before you exit and look toward Mr. Wheeler’s balcony. One of his neighbors comes down the stairs and says your name.

“Mrs. Ritter,” you reply with a smile. “How are you? How are the kids?”

She sighs and clicks her tongue. “Still wilder than Tarzan.”

You laugh at her unusual analogy. She was one of your first parolees, and you’re proud of her progress in her personal and professional life.

“You here for Mr. Wheeler?” she inquires after hearing you’re doing well. “He has been holed up in that little pigsty since Friday night.”

“Really?” you ask. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“Still makin’ noise and it don’t smell no worse, if that’s what you’re askin’. Come on in, honey.”

She opens the gate for you, wishes you luck, and walks to a freshly detailed but clearly used BMW. You wave to her, then walk up the steps to Mr. Wheeler’s apartment.

“Mr. Wheeler!” you call after your knocks go unanswered. You say your name before you add, “I need to talk to you about your job.”

“I quit!” he yells from inside.

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works, Dexter. Open the door and we can talk.”

“I open this door, and we won’t be talking!”

At that, you step away from the door and move back down the stucco hallway.

“Last chance to work with me,” you call.

He throws something against the door, which rattles on its hinges, and you pull your phone from your pocket. With a quick text to Nell, you have backup on the way. Hopefully, you can talk to Mr. Wheeler after the situation is de-escalated.

Less than five minutes later, a police car parks behind your sedan and two officers exit it. You meet them at the bottom of the stairs and open the gate to let them into the apartment complex.

“Thank you so much for coming so quickly,” you say as you lead them up the stairs.

“No problem,” Officer Bradford replies.

“I’m Lucy Chen,” Lucy introduces. “And this is Sergeant Tim Bradford.”

“Nice to meet you,” you respond. “So, my parolee, Dexter Wheeler, lives in apartment 34R. His employer called me earlier because he violated his agreement with them and stopped showing up three days ago. He wasn’t answering my calls, so I came over and knocked on his door. He told me that if he opened the door, we wouldn’t speak, and then threw something at the door.”

Tim nods, then looks around the small hallway. “Any of the neighbors say anything?”

“One of the women who lives downstairs implied that his apartment is – for lack of a better word – disgusting, and that he’s been locked in it since he returned home from work four or so days ago.”

Tim’s eyes remain locked on yours as you speak, and he mirrors your movements as you turn slightly to face Mr. Wheeler’s apartment.

“You want us to take him into custody or just assist in getting inside?” Tim asks.

You sigh, then ask, “What do you recommend?”

“We lock him up,” he answers. “He threw something at you and threatened you.”

“But not in that order,” you remind him with a small smile.

“That’s worse, that’s practically carrying out a threat against a government official.”

“You know this guy,” Lucy points out. “What do you think would benefit him the most?”

“If you’d be willing, I think one more chance might nudge him toward the right decision. If he decides to go the hard way, do whatever you need to do.”

Tim nods while Lucy agrees. He steps to the side and gestures for you to pass him, moving you farther from the door. While your back is turned, Lucy raises her brows and looks between you and Tim. He shakes his head once sternly, then leads Lucy to the door.

Tim knocks with the side of his closed fist and calls, “LAPD! Open the door, we’ve got a few questions for you.”

Dexter doesn’t answer, so Lucy tries, “We just need to see that you’re okay, Mr. Wheeler.”

He still doesn’t answer, so Tim wraps his fingers around the door handle. It turns about halfway, then stops.

“Mr. Wheeler, we know you’re in there. Because you’re on parole, we can come inside without a warrant,” Tim explains. “Last chance to comply.”

“I’m not on parole!” he finally replies.

Tim raises his hands and drops them back to his sides as you deadpan, “Oh, I must’ve been mistaken.”

“We’re coming in, Mr. Wheeler,” Lucy says.

Something else hits the door with a thud, and Tim steps back before bringing his foot up. He kicks the door beside the lock and rushes inside when it splinters and swings open. Lucy lays her hand on her taser and follows Tim while you wait in the hall. A door opens farther down, and someone leans out to see the cause of the commotion.

“Everything’s under control,” you assure them. “Stay inside.”

Lucy returns to the door and steps out before taking a deep breath. “Tim’s bringing him out.”

“Is it bad?” you ask.

Lucy’s eyes widen as she nods. You message your supervisor that Wheeler’s living conditions are unsuitable, and he’s being taken into police custody.

“What?” Dexter asks as Tim shoves him out of the door.

As he closes the door, you catch a whiff of the interior and fight the urge to cover your nose. Tim clears his throat as he looks at you.

“Mr. Wheeler, why haven’t you attended work this week?” you ask.

“I quit,” he tells you.

“Well, you have to tell me that. It’s a violation of your parole.”

“You don’t need to know my every move. I’m not a child.”

“Is that why your home is so dirty?”

“None of your business.”

“Actually, it is. You also failed to answer my calls earlier or open the door for me. Two more violations.”

“I was busy!” he defends.

He attempts to step toward you, but Tim keeps a tight grip on his handcuffs and yanks him back. Wheeler falls, grunting when he hits the concrete landing.

“He was indeed busy,” Lucy tells you.

Your brows raise, and Tim rubs his jaw before he says, “There’s a prostitute in there.”

“He took a prostitute in there?!” you exclaim.

You’re not surprised that he engaged in a criminal offense but by the prostitute’s willingness to go into such a residence. Lucy takes a deep breath before she knocks and reenters the apartment. Almost immediately, she exits again with a scantily-clad woman in handcuffs, closes the door, and exhales.

“Well, Mr. Wheeler,” you begin. “The good news is, I’m not your parole officer anymore.”

He smiles up at you, and Tim ‘accidentally’ knocks his boot against Dexter’s side.

“Bad news,” Tim continues. “You’re going back to jail for numerous parole violations and engaging in prostitution.”

“You’re on parole?” the woman asks.

“That is what’s bothering you?” you and Tim ask simultaneously.

While she attempts to justify her actions, Tim radios for another unit to meet them at the apartment complex and transport the two arrested individuals before you.

As you end a call with your supervisor, Tim and Lucy talk to the officers escorting Mr. Wheeler and his female companion to lock up. You slide your phone into your pocket and wait for them to finish what they’re doing.

After the door closes and the other officers drive toward the main road, Lucy turns to Tim with a wide smile.

“What?” he asks, waving you over.

“Hello?” she exclaims. “Chemistry what? You and the parole officer are like a perfect match!”

“Chemistry?” Tim repeats just as you reach them. “With my wife?”

“Chemistry?” you say, just as Tim had. “Tim Bradford, do you have a crush on me?”

Tim sighs as Lucy looks rapidly between you and Tim.

“Careful,” you warn, while Tim snaps, “You’re going to get whiplash, and I don’t want to hear you complaining about it.”

“I have to get back to work,” you sigh. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome,” Lucy replies. “I- you’re married?!”

Tim rolls his eyes, pats your shoulder, and follows you to your car. Lucy watches as he opens your door for you and leans forward to tell you something that makes you smile.

“Tell me everything,” Lucy requests as they return to the shop.

Tim doesn’t reply while he follows your car out of the apartment parking lot. Of course, he knows you are perfect for him, but something about hearing it from someone else makes him love you even more.

“Why don’t we get attached to all of her calls?” Lucy asks instead.

“Why are you still talking?” Tim counters.

Lucy purses her lips, then decides, “The sarcastic comments are more enjoyable when your wife is around.”

Most things are, Tim thinks. He’s glad to know you’re safe, and as Lucy continues asking questions he won’t answer, he thinks about you and what you should do this weekend. It will probably be easier to create a plan after he gets the smell of Dexter Wheeler’s apartment off him and his shop and his wedding ring back on his finger.

[comicaurora]

Recently with Arcane ending and the backlash/critics the second season received I've come to feel like it's even harder to start writing and creating art (as in, "if even people on that level aren't perfect, what chance do I have of making something truly good?"). How do you deal with this feeling, to start creating, knowing all the mistakes you're gonna have to make?

Well that's an interesting question. I think Arcane is actually a really good example for this. Because as far as I can tell, everything Arcane did with its story was, from the creators' perspective, a success.

I didn't see any glaring mistakes in Arcane season 2. I just saw a lot of decisions that served the themes they wanted to explore - love being unbreakable even when the participants have hurt each other unfathomably, sisters and sister cities falling naturally back into care and alliance when faced with an outside threat, the blinding allure of vengeance and rage and how it's a trap that must be actively escaped.

I think it's always important to meet a story where it's at. "I wanted the story to be a different story" is never a useful criticism. A storyteller needs to tell the story they think should be told. I think Arcane is throwing some people because season 1 in isolation looked like it could have been setting up some different threads - I was expecting them to more thoroughly explore the class divide in Piltover and Zaun and how they could navigate mending their relationship after so many atrocities and injustices inflicted on Zaun, but instead they used the sister cities as a mirror for Vi and Powder, and Vi and Powder are two people who love each other and have hurt each other and despite that will never stop being sisters, so that gets reflected back into Piltover and Zaun. I don't think that's a perfect analogy, but I do think it's the analogy they were going for.

A story cannot be every story. They picked the story they wanted to tell and executed it in the time they had, and I think they did good. That's a lesson we can all internalize as artists; my art, once created, cannot contain every possibility it held before it existed. And even if I fulfil my vision as closely as possible, some people are going to wish I'd done something else. And if those people have such a strong vision of the story they wish I'd told instead, it sounds like they should probably tell that story, since it's already taken shape in their mind. "I wish this story had scrapped its plans and themes and explored this OTHER idea" isn't useful as a criticism, but it is a very powerful artistic motivator.

[muwapsturniolo]

Cyber Sex 💿 M. Sturniolo

"W-was it good?"

✘ sub!matt, loser!matt, domish!reader, riding, hand jobs, titty sucking, one use of mommy.

PT 1 PT2 PT3

Decided to give yall an early xmas gift!!! enjoy the last part to cyber sex!!!!

Weeks.

It's been weeks since she had seen Matt and given him a blowjob. He had accepted his reward of taking her out on a date, but now it seemed like he was avoiding her.

Which was partially true.

As always, he was focused on his studies, especially with finals coming up. He stayed cooped up in his room or in the library, taking notes on top of notes. Passing all his tests was one of the only things on his mind, the other being her.

He wasn't trying to avoid her on purpose, but he will admit he's been milking the studying excuse.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, he was infatuated with her. It was just the fact the she was...well, her.

Everything about her was intimidating to him, the way she carried herself, the way she smiled, the way she squinted her eyes when she was up to no good.

She was a force to be reckoned with, and she knew it too.

So here she was, gathering the bags of takeout and other things, leaving her apartment with one thing on her mind.

Matt.

She doesn't take the elevator, knowing that the stairs would be quicker, and she's right.

Soon, she's standing in front of Matt's door, a determined look on her face. She knocks twice and waits impatiently for the door to open.

Unfortunately for her, it doesn't. She huffs and knocks again, but this time louder, the impatience she's feeling only getting stronger. Soon, she hears the muffled sound of cursing and some movement before the door opens.

" Hell-" Matt's breath catches in his throat as he sees her in all her glory. His eyes widen, and he fixes his glasses, looking off to the side.

"H-Hey what are you-" She ignores him and pushes her way into the apartment, looking around for a few seconds before setting her items down on the coffee table.

"Alright Matthew, let's talk." The tone of her voice makes him look down at the floor.

"You have been avoiding me, I don't know why, but you have, and to be honest, I don't like it. So what's your issue?"

He scoffs softly and crosses his arms, looking like a scolded child.

"M'not avoiding you..." He trails off, knowing good and well that he's lying. She stands in front of him and tilts her head, not believing him for a second. " Oh really? You're not avoiding me? Fine then, guess I'll go tell someone else that they wo-No!" He shouts unexpectedly. A small smirk makes its way onto her face as he watches him fidget anxiously.

"I-I'm sorry ok? I just....Like I said, you make me nervous, and then finals are starting, so I've just been everywhere... I-I didn't mean to make you feel bad o-or anything." Her smirk drops as she realizes this runs deeper than him simply avoiding her.

He truly was scared and nervous; this was all new to him, and he didn't know how to navigate it, and finals coming up wasn't helping him at all.

She softens her demeanor as he continues on, rambling in an attempt to clear the air. "I-I do want to take you on a date...I just don't want to disappoint you o-or embarrass myself..." She wasn't dumb, she could read between the lines.

He didn't want to disappoint her sexually.

"Matt....You don't have to worry about th-"

"Ok but it is something to worry about! I'm 21, and I've never done anything remotely sexual! All I do is stay to myself and study! I might as well be called a loser! hell, maybe even an incel!"

She stares at him with a straight face, "Matt-"

"And then here you are, the most experienced person I've met, the most prettiest girl, and yet I'm being a pussy and won't even take you out on a date! I'm fumbling! Hard! If this were a test, I'd fail!"

She finds herself smiling softly at his academic analogies.

"Are you done?" She asks him once he finally stops talking. He huffs and adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his hair. "Good. Now shut up and listen to me." She takes a step closer to him, his breath hitching.

"I don't care about any of that, ok? I don't care that you're a virgin and that I was the first girl to hear you moan." His cheeks flush a soft pink, his palms getting sweaty.

"What I care about is a boy that I find cute, sexual feelings aside, won't take me out on a date.....Now, I got takeout and a Lego set I'm not building alone. Do you want to join, take a break from studying?"

So there they were in Matt's living room, giggling and building a Lego set, the empty boxes of takeout discarded on the coffee table. The tension once in Matt's shoulder had disappeared, now knowing nothing was expected of him, and she wasn't worried about any of that.

He was able to relax, slowly coming out of his shell. She enjoyed his company, his witty remarks, his dad jokes, and the way he laughed. She was getting to know more about him and his life.

He was a good person to be around.

"I don't know where the piece goes!" He grunts in frustration as he tries to shove the Lego piece against another. She chuckles and snatches the instructions off the floor and holds them up. "This is why we have instructions, but no, you're too good for instructions.'' she teases.

He looks at her with a face of mock annoyance, "I'll have you know I've built multiple Lego sets with no instructions!" He points towards the various sets displayed around his apartment.

"Ok well, clearly your no instructions streak is over." Matt huffs and snatches the instruction from her grasp, shooting her a sharp look when he hears her snickering. He looks down at the small words and begins to read them, his eyes darting across the page as his tongue pokes out in concentration. As he does so, she takes the time to really examine him.

He had on a white thermal along with some grey sweatpants, his hair was a bit messy from how many times he ran his fingers through it, and he just looked

good.

"I think I got it!" His shouts of excitement brought her out of her daze, her eyes trailing down to the paper pamphlet falling to the floor. She sits on her knees and moves closer, their faces side by side as he puts the Lego piece in its correct spot. His hands moved quickly as he put the other parts together, his body bouncing in excitement.

It doesn't take long for the display to be finished, Matt's head whipping towards her.

"Done! Told you I didn't need the-" His words trail off once he realizes how close she is. She feels his body tense and his breath hitch, his eyes darting between her lips and eyes.

She quickly takes notice, the corners of her mouth twitching gently.

"Do you wanna kiss me?"

Her voice comes out in a teasing whisper, her eyes taunting him. He gives a slight nod, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips.

"Y-yeah...."

"Then kiss me."

It's cute to her how scared he was, the way he slowly leaned forward and softly placed his lips against hers. She hums and stops him from pulling away, deepening the kiss and taking full control, allowing her tongue to enter his mouth. She pushes him back against the bottom of the couch and climbs into his lap, pressing her chest against his.

She giggles softly feeling his cock begin to harden underneath her, the tent growing bigger and bigger. She grinds against him, enjoying the way he whimpers softly.

She goes to pull his pants down, but he quickly grabs her hands, stopping it from going further.

"W-wait wait! I-I'm sorry, I umm-" He clears his throat as he pulls away from the kiss, his breathing ragged.

"Hey hey-" She caresses his face and chest gently, trying to calm him down. "What are you saying sorry for? We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I-I want to I just...." His face turns beet red as he thinks about him being a virgin. He knew that she already knows this information, but having to say it out loud, the thought, It was just embarrassing for him.

"I know, that doesn't bother me Matt."

"I-It doesn't?" He was confused, why would it not bother her? Why isn't it bothering her? Don't girls want a guy who knows what he's doing in the bedroom?

She smiles and plants her lips against his once more, " Nope-" she trails a few kisses up to his ear before whispering,

"- It's the perfect way to teach you what I like."

He can't help the groan that leaves his mouth, the thought of her morphing him into her perfect plaything, her teaching him how to please her....He loved it.

He slowly lets go of her wrists and allows her to pull his sweatpants off along with his boxers. She wastes no time, wrapping her hand around him and slowly jerking him off. He sighs out, the stress and tension in his body fading away with every stroke.

Her thumb swipes over his tip, his lips parting slightly. Her hand felt better than his, it was so soft, smaller than his own.

He's embarrassed with how quick his balls tighten, his dick twitching in her grasp. He was close to cuming, and that's not what she wanted.

She pulls her hand away and moves back, pulling her own pants and underwear off. She settles back down in his lap, grinding their bodies together. Her bare and wet cunt only provide him with more pleasure, his breathing speeding up rapidly.

"Gonna let me ride you?" She asks breathlessly, her own pleasure rising due to his tip nudging her cunt repeatedly. He finds himself nodding eagerly, too excited and lost in pleasure to form a complete sentence.

She smiles and crashes their lips together once more. She situates herself on top of him, lining his tip up with her entrance before sinking down.

It's always the slip-in that gets her.

Her head falls onto his shoulder as his head tilts back onto to couch cushions, her thighs quivering at the stretch.

He was perfect, just as she had thought. He stretched her out just right, filling her up to the point where she found it hard to breathe.

This was a new and exciting feeling for him, it took everything in him not to cum on the spot. Her spongy, wet, and warm walls felt different from the ones inside her mouth, and he didn't know which ones he liked better.

She begins to move back and forth, grinding against him before starting to bounce up and down. Her soft and pretty moans flow through the apartment, making it harder for Matt to think straight. She was like a siren, clouding his mind with her sweet melodic songs, luring him to the ocean for his death.

His hands stay limp at his sides, his fingers twitching as they itch to touch her.

But he was scared, scared that if he did touch her, she'd disappear, and he'd wake up thinking this was all a dream.

"Fffuck Matt, s-so big!" She pants in his ear, her arms wrapped around his neck as she continues to bounce on him.

Her thighs and calves quickly become tired, a pout forming on her face as she looks at him, begging him to help and touch her.

"T-touch me Matt - Shit!- P-please!"

He couldn't say no to that face, he'd be dumb if he did.

So he finally caves, wrapping his arms around her like a bear and helping her keep up with her own movements. He adjusts his legs so they are propped up, and gently begins to buck his hips, meeting her every time she lands on his lap.

She gasps as he hits that special spot deep inside of her, her orgasm getting closer and closer. Their lips connect once more, their tongues messily fighting and their teeth clashing.

He holds her tightly, his fingernails digging into her skin, leaving small indents.

He needed to be closer.

Without a second thought, he removes her shirt, her breast falling free and bouncing in his face. He doesn't know what came over him, but neither of them was complaining.

She throws her head back as he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, and fondles the other. He sucks gently, using his teeth to gently nibble on the skin.

He moans in delight, his eyes closing, his glasses lopsided as he finally gets to experience all that he's been waiting for.

"Shi-it! S-so close, please please please, don't stop!" She begs, urging him to push her over the edge. He follows her directions, not changing anything he's doing, and continuing to pleasure her.

He feels his own orgasm approaching, his whimpers turning into loud and deep moans.

"Fuck, pl-Oh god! M-mommy!" He didn't even realize he said it, but she heard it loud and clear, and it was just enough to push her over the edge.

She moans loudly and falls against his chest, her juices trickling out and down his shaft. The feeling of her walls clamping down on him repeatedly was enough to make him follow her lead, hot spurts of cum painting her insides.

They lay against the couch, the both of them panting softly, still wrapped in each other's embrace. She slowly peels her body away from his and smiles at his flushed cheeks and dazed expression.

"W-was it good?" He asks in between labored breaths, his nerves clear as day. It was obvious he was eager to please her, wanting to hear her praises and words of reassurance.

"You were perfect pretty boy......Can you handle another round?"

[bytemee]

· . BETTER THAN ME ⋆ you gon' figure out you lost one and that's me ⸝⸝

# in which— you and karina broke up, but neither of you really moved on... or moved out at that.

౨ৎ [ 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽 𝙼𝙴 ] ‘ — yu jimin x gp!reader. 3.1k words. exes to ? ⊹ 18+ smut, p in v (unprotected), sub!reader, dom!rina, nipple sucking, cowgirl, she really wants to slap u vro, and um cliffhanger kinda lol haha.

─── authors note. where’s all the angst requests. why is everything smut. i am not built for this. i hate my writing 💔 augh. sigh. k. bye.

[navigation] [main masterlist]

you could just hear it now.

"why on earth would you move in with a girl you dated for six months?"

fair question. really solid. probably the kind of thing your friends said behind your back. probably the kind of thing your mom would've said if you hadn't lied and told her you and karina were just roommates from the jump.

but when people were bold enough to ask you the question to your face. you gave them the same analogy every single time.

dating karina was like a rollercoaster. the excitement you got when everything was just starting, the stomach-dropping terror and exhilaration of the first drop, and the wild, out-of-control twists and turns. even the slow crawl and the pause at the top, the momentary reprieve. the end that came just a little too quickly.

then you had the aftermath, the afterglow, the dopamine rush, and the blissful comedown.

and like any good ride, the second it was over, you wanted to do it all over again—even if your head was spinning and your chest still hurt.

so when the lease came up and karina didn't move out… you didn't ask her to. you didn't think it was a problem… because the actual problem was that you still loved her.

you still notice how she folds her laundry with perfect corners and how her keys always jingle twice before she opens the door. how she hums when she washes her face. how she still wears that stupid oversized shirt you left in her room months ago, back when you were allowed to touch her.

you pretend not to notice.

you pretend a lot these days. like how it doesn't bother you when she comes home with her hair tousled and her lipstick smudged. like how your chest doesn't ache when you hear her laugh through the bathroom door, phone pressed to her ear, someone else on the other end.

you act like you're over it. because you should be. because you shouldn't have broken up with her. because it was your fault. because you should have let her go, you should have done a lot of things.

tonight was supposed to be nothing.

a girl with kind eyes and soft lips. someone to distract you. you didn't take her into your room. you didn't even kiss her for long. it didn't feel right. it never does.

you showered the second she left—hot water, hard scrub, hands on your face like you could rinse away the shame. then you threw on your old hoodie and dropped onto the couch because your body was too heavy to carry anymore.

you're not sure how long you sit there, staring at the tv screen, but eventually you hear her door creak open.

she doesn't say anything at first.

just walks into the living room like a ghost you summoned.

she's barefoot, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, legs bare under a shirt you haven't seen since—fuck, since before the breakup. one of your shirts, oversized and faded, hanging off one shoulder. her face is calm in that terrifying way only she can pull off.

she says nothing. just stares.

you don't move. again, you pretend. pretend as if her presence isn't affecting you.

then she walks over and stops right in front of you, blocking the glow from the screen. what a fucking ass.

"i smelled perfume earlier," she says. her mouth moved immediately afterwards. "was she pretty?"

you glance away.

"i didn't sleep with her."

karina hums. "did you want to?"

"no."

a beat. she takes another step closer.

"did you think it'd make me jealous?"

you're silent.

you truly don't have an answer. if you did make her jealous, it wasn't in an active, conscious way. a way to shove it into her face and say, "watch me move on," but you remember how you glanced at the door before it closed. how you stood a little taller walking back to your room, knowing karina was home.

karina scoffs under her breath. as if she's sifting through the bullshit in your silence and pulling the truth straight out of your thoughts.

"cute," she muttered. "real subtle, by the way. real mature."

you shift on the couch. "karina…"

she takes another step, standing between your legs; her knee brushes your thigh. her fingers lift, and then she's grabbing your jaw, just like she used to. fingertips pressing into your skin, forcing your face upward so she can look at you.

"do you miss me?" she asks. it's quiet… but the way her eyes dance around your face, they seem loud.

your throat tightens. you should lie. you always do. you've been doing it for weeks, months—hell, since the day you broke up.

you try to look away again, but her grip tightens just enough to keep you there.

"i asked you a question," she says, a little rougher this time.

your voice barely makes it out. "yeah."

karina doesn't react—not right away. she watches you, lips parted just slightly, her chest rising and falling.

"i miss you," you repeat, your hands slide up, gentle on her hips, and you rest your forehead on her stomach.

she exhales.

it sounds a lot like relief.

her fingers comb into your hair, and her other hand comes up, cupping the back of your head, keeping you close.

"you don't get to do that," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "you don't get to try to fuck someone else and then say you miss me."

you squeeze her waist gently, holding her like you're trying to keep her from slipping out of your grasp again.

her nails scrape lightly against your scalp.

the sound that slips past your lips is almost pitiful.

"i'm sorry." it comes out choked, your voice muffled against her. "i didn't mean to—"

you cut yourself off, unsure of what to say next.

karina hums, her fingers tighten, pulling your head back, forcing you to look at her.

she studies you for a moment, trying to figure out if this is worth it—if you're worth it. and god, the part of her that misses you is louder than the part of her that's angry. but just barely.

"i should slap you," she murmurs…but she's already moving, already climbing into your lap, considering it's second nature, this is her place, well it was at one point. and some twisted part of her still believes it is only hers.

your breath hitches when her thighs settle on either side of yours, her hands sliding to your shoulders, grounding herself. you shift slightly, letting her settle, your palms sliding up her back, memorizing the curve of her spine.

it feels a little like the first time.

back when your hands were nervous and shaky and she was too good to be true. back when she was this bright spot in your life that you didn't know how to handle.

fuck, you handled it so fucking wrong.

karina leans in—closer, closer—and you tilt your head up to meet her, lips parting, desperate for it, aching—

but she pulls back just barely. enough to make you chase it. enough to make you curse under your breath.

karina smirks.

there is nothing gentle about her. not like this.

her lips press to the corner of your mouth, and then her teeth are nipping at your bottom lip, tugging just enough to make you gasp, and her tongue is hot, sliding into your mouth, curling against yours.

karina kisses the way she fights. with her whole body. with her soul.

you hold onto her like a drowning man, like you need her, because you do. because the second she breaks away, you realize that no one can kiss you like her. no one can touch you like her.

her hips roll down, hard, and your moan is muffled by her mouth, the sound swallowed down, greedily consumed. she pulls back again, just to catch her breath, and her hands are in your hair, pushing the hood off, and her lips press to the spot under your ear, her nose brushing along the curve of your jaw.

you inhale sharply, your hands sliding down, groping at her ass, pulling her harder against you, desperate, desperate, desperate.

she groans, the sound low and soft, her hips rocking, her teeth nipping at your throat.

your brain knows this is bad. that this isn't real, that you're going to wake up tomorrow morning, and she's not going to be there. it'll be worse than any hangover you've ever had.

but the rest of your body couldn't care less.

it feels good. it feels right. like you're both exactly where you're supposed to be.

karina lifts her head, her forehead resting against yours, her breath fanning against your lips.

"i hate you," she whispers.

you swallow.

"i know."

her eyes flutter shut, and you kiss her again, trying to say everything you never could. trying to make up for all the things you said with words that aren't even half as pretty.

the angle is a little awkward, but karina doesn't seem to notice. her hands are cupping your jaw, holding you in place, kissing you like you're oxygen and she's dying. she pulls back, panting, and before she can speak, you're lifting her shirt—your shirt—over her head, throwing it somewhere behind the couch.

karina doesn't bother hiding the way she stares at you.

you try not to preen under her attention, but it's hard when she's looking at you like that. like you're everything she wants, everything she's ever wanted.

"i need you," you breathe out, hands on her waist, her hips, squeezing just enough to feel the way her skin dimples under your fingers.

"then have me," she says, leaning in, her mouth hot against your neck.

the sound that slips out is downright filthy—you tilt your head to the side, giving her better access. karina's nails scrape against your scalp before they slide down, dragging hard down your back. your breath stutters, your back arches slightly, and your teeth sink into your lip hard enough to draw blood.

"rina—" your voice cracks. "i—please, i need…"

her laugh is low. it's wicked.

"you're lucky i missed you." her words are hot against your throat, punctuated by the sharp nip of her teeth. "because this doesn't mean shit."

"okay." you try to catch your breath. "yeah—whatever, okay. you—you can slap me, okay, i fucking deserve it, okay, i know—fuck…"

karina lifts her head. "shh," she murmurs. "i'll slap you later. but put that pretty mouth to a better use, yeah?"

you nod. you think you nod. you can't be sure. her hands find yours, trailing them from the bottom of her rib cage up to her chest. she hums softly. "do you want me to show you, baby? want me to walk you through it?"

"no—no, i remember, i can… fuck, i can do it…"

she presses her lips against yours. it's more gentle than the kiss from earlier. a soft reminder to breathe, a reminder that she's still there.

her hand moves to the back of your head, leading you, guiding you, and then your hand pushes up your shirt—yours—her back arching, her head dropping back as your mouth moves, teeth scraping, tongue swirling.

"that's good," karina says, her voice quiet. "fuck… you were always so good…"

her other hand rests on the back of your neck, and it's a comforting weight—but also a reminder that you're doing this because she's allowing you to, not because you're entitled to it.

you take your time—kissing and biting and sucking, red blooming under your tongue. karina's hips move against you, seeking out pressure, her body remembering every place to rock against yours, especially over the tent in your sweats. she gasps softly when you pull away, eyes meeting hers, a question in the way you stare.

she nods, just slightly, and your tongue flicks against her nipple, your hand squeezing the other one gently, just enough pressure to make her shiver. she groans, fingers tangling into your hair, keeping you close, and her breath comes in sharp bursts when your lips close around it, teeth nipping, her chest pressed to yours as her head drops forward.

she doesn't say anything.

her words have always come through actions, anyway.

a sharp tug at your hair—more—another gentle press to the top of your head—enough—and her head falling forward, lips pressing to the top of yours, fingers gentle—perfect—

it's a silent exchange, a secret language only the two of you understand.

"baby." her voice is hoarse, fingers combing into your hair, pushing it back, trying to keep it out of your face.

your eyes lift up.

"need to feel you," she says, almost a demand, but there's an edge of desperation that betrays her.

she knows as well as you do that this is the last night. that the second the sun comes up, she'll be gone again. that tomorrow, things will be just as bad as they were before. that tomorrow, you'll both wake up and pretend none of this ever happened.

tomorrow, you won't remember how soft her thighs are. how good it feels to touch her.

tonight is a luxury that neither of you can afford.

but karina doesn't like waiting.

she slips her fingers under the hem of your sweatpants, and her breath is warm against your face, and her chest is red and splotchy, and her mouth is swollen—and you know you have no choice.

her fingers are hot, curled around your length, her hand stroking up and down—and you almost choke on your next breath.

karina watches you through her lashes. she knows how good she is. how she's ruined every single girl that came after her—that none of them could ever come close to the way she feels. how the only touch that makes you squirm anymore is her own.

but she never gloated about it. she never threw it in your face, either. it was just something the two of you both knew.

but now with her body straddling yours, her hair a dark curtain falling over you both as she smiled against your mouth, a smile that basically said, "remember how good i can make you feel?"

the reminder never hurt.

her thumb swirls against the tip of your cock, smearing the bead of pre-cum leaking from it.

your hands slide down to her ass, fingers squeezing. your hips jerk, your lips parting with a soft whimper.

"fuck."

she smirks.

"i think," she murmurs, pressing her lips against the corner of your mouth, her fingers squeezing just enough to make you twitch in her grip, "we can skip the condom tonight."

your throat tightens, and you nod.

she lifts her hips, obviously too far into it to remove her underwear, so she goes for the easier option, just shifting them to the side. her hips lower, her fingers wrapping around your cock, holding it steady as she slowly lowers herself.

and then—

"holy fuck."

karina hums in response, a quiet sound in the back of her throat that's just enough to tell you to shut the hell up.

you watch her closely, trying to memorize the look on her face, the way her eyes squeeze shut, the way her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth, the way her nose scrunches, and the way her eyebrows furrow. the soft groan that slips out.

"shit," she says, her head dropping forward. "you're…"

she trails off, not bothering to finish the thought.

her eyes open, and she glances up, catching you staring. you look away, and her hand is on your jaw, forcing you to look at her.

"watch me," she murmurs. "be good."

"yeah—yes, okay, i will. i'll be good, promise."

she rolls her hips slowly, adjusting, and then she's leaning forward, pressing her mouth against yours. your hand rests on her hip, and the other slips behind her neck, holding her close, kissing her like it's the last time you'll get to do it.

she starts moving.

she rides you slow, taking her time, and her moans are quiet, her breathing soft, and her hips are grinding down, chasing the pressure. her hands rest on your shoulders, and she moves, her thighs flexing with each movement.

"look at me," she breathes out, her hand cupping your cheek.

you blink, your eyes focusing.

"i want you to watch," she says, her words barely making it out as she moves faster. "wanna you to see when i cum. you're gonna make me cum first, right? because you're good for me, aren't you?"

your throat tightens.

"i can… yes, okay, i can do that, i'll be good, please—fuck, let me touch you…"

"go ahead." her lips brush against yours.

your hand slides between her legs, and she moans, her head falling forward, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, and the sound that comes out of her throat is something that's barely human.

you press your thumb against her clit, and she curses.

"faster," she orders, her hips rocking. "more, baby, c'mon…"

you obey, and then she's moving faster and harder, and the hand on your shoulder is gripping onto you like you're a life raft, like if she lets go, she'll fall overboard. her body arches against yours, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she reaches the edge. you feel her muscles tense, her nails digging into your skin so hard it'll probably leave marks.

who were you to complain?

"fuck, baby, i'm so close," she whispers.

"good," you murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple, and then her forehead, and then her cheeks.

it doesn't take much more.

a few circles of your thumb, and her eyes roll back, her voice breaking, a cry slipping past her lips, and her body tensing, and her walls clamping around you, and her chest pressed to yours.

"oh, oh, god, holy shit, fuck."

her eyes soon lock onto yours, her gaze not leaving you, watching the way you react to her. how you bite your lip, the soft grunts, the way the tendons in your neck stand out, the way your brows knit together, and the way your arms wrap around her waist and pull her closer, and the way your hips jerk upwards, and the way the moan rumbles in your chest, and the way the warmth spreads through her, and the way her name slips off your tongue.

her arms wrap around your neck, her head resting on your shoulder. her hips roll, riding out the last waves, and you can feel her pulse against your tongue, beating just as fast as yours. your hand rubs her back gently; you don't want her to leave the circle of your arms.

not yet.

"did you…?"

"mhm."

"okay, good, that's good, perfect, thank you, thank you, rina, thank you."

"stop babbling," she mumbles.

but her hand is still on the back of your head, and her lips are brushing your ear, and her body is warm against yours.

then her hand wraps around your length, and her hips rise, and the loss of her makes you whimper.

"shh," she says, her lips finding yours. "did you think i'd forget about you?"

[gogo-gogurtman]

Oh, Darling of Mine!

Do you want to know what’s it like to have the Subway Masters crush on you? How they’d act when they catch a glimpse of you in the crowd? It was about time Cupid’s arrow struck these workaholic train men!

👉 Contains: SFW fluff, separate headcanons, Ingo x Reader, Emmet x Reader

🌙 I just wanted to write about how giddy the Subway Masters get every time they see their sweetie heart :)

🖤 ▵ 🔲 𝓘𝓷𝓰𝓸 🔲 ▵ 🖤

When love hits Ingo, it takes him a while to realize that these feelings aren’t purely platonic.

It’s either because he’s oblivious or inexperienced with romance.

Doesn’t matter though, because when he first starts to feel that pull towards you, he just knows that he always wants to be near you.

Ingo wants to be your friend so bad! But he didn’t know how to ask without it sounding like a business proposal.

Emmet had to ask for him and initiate the friendship. He was so forward with it, too. Ingo nearly pulled the breaks on the conversation because he was so red and flustered over how his brother put him in the spotlight like that.

Ingo thinks you’re cool. Your job? Interesting. Your stories? Pleasant to hear. Your Pokémon? Absolutely stunning and asks if you want to have a group play date.

Despite this all, he still manages to keep that frowny face. It’s kinda uncanny with him speaking nothing but goodness over you while wearing that frown but it’s charming.

Especially in the moments where his eyes softens and the ends of his lips curls upwards. Aren’t you lucky? His cat-like smile was only reserved for his family and close friends.

Every time he catches a glimpse of a color you frequently wear, his head immediately snaps up to see if it was you in the crowd.

His frown somehow deepens when it’s not you.

Ingo is such a gentleman! The type of guy to give you his coat on chilly days, open any doors for you and pull out chairs, keeping you close to him as he navigates through busy areas….

Basically, I’m a believer that’s he’s an old fashioned guy. An odd, old fashioned guy (and we love that <3)

Great man with great life advice. He’s got you when you need them (not for romantic advice lmao)

But like his speech, his advice includes heavy train analogy 🚂

If you’re sensitive to loud noises, he’ll make the effort to lower his voice around you.

Doesn’t realize that half the things he’s done for you can be considered romantic.

He really hopes that you will challenge the battle lines! If you make it to his cart, he would shower you and your team with loud praises and show you his best self when battling.

Ingo would even research your preferred Pokémon typing and interests. He’ll even give you advice of some strategies and be an active listener when you talk about your likes.

He would start to offer you potions and berries.

For a while, he puts up this friendly and professional front. He doesn’t want you to think less of him if you see his mask slip.

Like many, I headcanon him as the older twin, so he does harbor insecurities such as bottling his emotions to appear more “reliable” and feeling like it’s expected of him to make sacrifices for everyone.

If you offer him your shoulder to cry on and give him promises of being there for him, he would feel so relieved. It would touch him to know that you don’t mind him without his mask.

Mans so stiff. But he would like to slow dance with you.

He gets caught up in that daydream every time he catches the speakers playing classical or love songs at the station.

Keeps mental tabs on your favorites. Window shopping for Ingo will never be the same (He once stood outside of a display for twenty minutes debating whether or not he should get you an item he’d think you’d like.)

You’re just his favorite person (that isn’t his brother or Elesa)

As his feelings for you grow, he will call you by your name less and start picking up nicknames like “Dear” and “Dearest”. He did, on one occasion before confessing, let a “sweetheart” slip out. When you caught that, Ingo was not looking at you as he was busy hiding his red face behind his hat.

The day Ingo realized that friends shouldn’t be this affectionate and that he liked you, it hit him like a train.

Though, he accepted it quick, and changed tracks so he can see if there was a chance that you’d feel the same.

But by that point, his love for you grows to be too much. His heart yearns for yours, his soul aching to merge the tracks of life with yours.

With a pleasant restaurant marked down for later and his brother giving him a supportive slap on the back, Ingo faces you and in his own, loud, conductor-esque way, tells you how much he loves you. Do you feel the same?

🤍 ▿ 🔳 𝓔𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓽 🔳 ▿ 🤍

Love? Ha. No.

He acknowledges that you’re attractive. He acknowledges that he may harbor a crush on you.

But the minute Emmet feels his crush solidifying into an infatuation, he’s at war. He’s in denial about that.

Emmet loves to see your face, especially your smile with matching bright eyes.

He tries extra hard to be the main reason for your smile.

If you battle, most likely every time he sees you he’ll demand a battle. Get those handy dandy potions ready because he is still not going easy on you.

If anything, Emmet goes all out on your battles. An excuse to show off his skills and Pokémon. But if you lose, he doesn’t get in your face about it. He would praise both you and your Pokémon’s efforts and share some battling advice. He would also offer you potions and berries.

A favorite of his is spending time with you talking about strategies and both of your Pokémon teams. Think of all the combinations! Emmet would still enjoy it if you just listened to him as well.

Emmet also likes listening to you too! Your rambles are verrrry interesting!

Definitely look into your interests in his free time. He wants to be the best conversation person!

Also, gossip bestie. He likes a good gossip session 💅

Somehow, he always manages to spook you when he suddenly appears at your side. For someone with long strides, he’s pretty quiet.

It’s just that every time he spots you in the crowd, he immediately b-lines towards you. One time, it took Ingo ten minutes to realize that Emmet wasn’t walking with him anymore and had stop to talk with you.

Has a tendency to drag you around when he’s excited. Doesn’t realize it until you say something and completely do a 180. AKA, he completely removes himself from you and pretends that nothing happened.

Mans got a bad case of cuteness aggression. Why??? Are??? You??? so??? CUTE????

Replays your conversations in his head all day. Files any important details away in his mind for safe keeping. Emmet also tends to daydream about future conversations and how to wow you.

On that topic, also daydreams about successfully sweeping you off your feet.

He would like very much to go on different outings with you. It also just be a simple walk and it’s be enough for him.

When he gets offered sweets, instead of saving them for his brother, he would now offer them to you if you’d enjoy confectioneries (Ingo cannot know about this betrayal)

His signature smile does get a bit wobbly and rosey when he interacts with you.

Emmet also teases you. It can be by flirting or playful jabs. He likes to see all the expressions he can pull from you.

He’s very physically affectionate. Squishing your cheeks, full on hugs that squeezes the air out of your lungs, doing that hold holding thing where he swings your intertwined hands to match his strides.

Emmet would also respect it if you didn’t want to be touched. Last thing he wants to do is to make you uncomfortable.

You need an opinion? Emmet is as blunt and honest as an old woman. He will say that outfit does not look right and save you from a wardrobe malfunction. But he will tell you when something looks great.

His compliments are straightforward, you may end up with a red face.

His brutal honesty is also good for snapping you out of delulu land. He really doesn’t intend on making you feel bad, he just wants to help.

He doesn’t tell anyone, but when his feelings grow genuine, he has self-deprecating thoughts over how this friendship is an elaborate cruel prank of yours.

You can’t possibly enjoy his presence that much. Doesn’t he get annoying? Doesn’t he get too rude or too pushy with battles? Doesn’t his train talk get tiring?

Emmet thinks of himself as the weirder one of the twins. There’s not a lot of people approaching them with a genuine friendship, much less with him.

As the younger brother, he tends to downplay his misfortune and shut himself out when he’s going through something. He doesn’t want to add on any more burdens to Ingo.

But with you, you make him feel safe to act like himself. You make sure to let him know that he doesn’t need to cut out parts of himself to make you enjoy his company.

After hearing that, he decided that he can’t have you disappear from his life. You’re verrry important to him, now.

The Joltiks, man. You will find some stowaways on you, either by their own choosing or Emmet planting them on you.

Gets more starry eyed if you baby them like he would. The Joltiks are a testament to see if you’re a Real One.

Affectionately would call you “Dear”, “Darling”, or when you two are dating, “Baby”.

Emmet likes upbeat music. When he hears it, he feels like dancing. He imagines dancing with you and swinging you around and around.

Your giggles would be music to his ears. Don’t be shy now, he wants to hear how happy you are with him.

At some point, he comes to terms with the fact that he’s fallen in love with you. You, his friend that doesn’t shame him for being himself and being his rock.

There was no planning, no prolonging when he realizes this. Because when the two of you are enjoying a moment together, Emmet holds you close and tells you he loves you.

His pretty darrrling, would you like to be his?

[spookysplatt]

MORE Mechanisms as textposts? Preposterous! (Part 4.) Shortening to 5 per post so image IDs are less daunting for me

Image IDs are under the cut, but if that causes issues tell me and I will move them! I can also move them to the alt text if that is better.

( Part 3 )

[ID one] An image of Drumbot Brian and Ashes O'Reilly on stage. Brian is leaning towards Ashes, saying or singing something into the microphone. Ashes is giving him the side-eye. The post above them is from Tumblr users "Imaonade" and "mirio," with lmaonade's parts above Brian and mirio's above Ashes. The posts read: "(lmaonade) good news they are sending me to space" "(mirio) what is the bad news" "(lmaonade) they are sending me to die" [end ID]

[ID two] An image of Jonny d'Ville standing outside of an old brick building. He is lighting a cigarette. The post above him is by Tumblr user "neutralcocacola" and reads, "everything else is boring I'm just gonna start killing people" [end ID]

[ID three] An image of Raphaella la Cognizi and Drumbot Brian standing in a field. Raphaella is smiling at Brian, who is staring into the camera with a perplexed look on his face. On this image is a text conversation, with the blue side attributed to Brian and the grey attributed to Raphaella. The conversation goes: "(blue) can we......" "(blue again) get a cat (analog heart emoji)" "(grey) i'll make one" "(blue) what" "(grey) it'll be another experiment" "(blue) why can't you just be normal for once" [end ID]

[ID four] An image of Ashes O'Reilly, leaning casually against a brick wall with peeling paint and smiling. The post above them is by Tumblr user "kiera--b" and reads, "my primary gender is known but I have other secret genders you unlock via gifting me things and navigating my dialog tree" [end ID]

[ID five] An image of Marius von Raum, standing on stage, holding a violin in one hand. His eyes are closed. The post above him is by Tumblr user "tomwambsgirl" and reads, "fundamentally i am a petty and mean-spirited person who is also a chill, laidback guy. basically everything is cool with me except for the fact i am irritable and hold grudges. so i'm kind of a weird standoffish dude but yeah i think i'm pretty approachable and friendly" [end ID]