#Televison News

[richardarmitagefanpage]

Richard at the Royal Television Society Baird Lecture in Birmingham, UK. (September 20, 2024)

📷: RTSMidsCentre

[pretty-little-fools]

[rnbria]

Just downstairs with my dad waiting for Brutha's performance on 106 & Party and caught this little bit of DAY26 on Notarized December 31, 2008

[spryfilm]

DVD Review: “Hawaii Five-O” (1968 - 1980) 

[schlock-luster-video]

On August 17, 1948, The Mad Monster debuted on television in New York City.

[wevegotbackissues-blog]

'Vision' Series Confirmed For Disney+

Marvel are developing a Vision series for Disney+ that will see Paul Bettany return to the role. The show will be a continuation of the events of WandaVision that saw Vision adopt a white form. Terry Matalas, who is coming off the success of the third season of Star Trek: Picard, will be the showrunner and the writers room for the series opened this week. . The show will be the second spin-off…

[fozmeadows]

the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?

[stellamarielu]

talk too much

declan o’hara x female reader

summary: you're painfully introverted causing your boss to go out of his way to meddle in your personal life in a desperation to feed his rather unprofessional infatuation with you.

content: fluff, mutual pining, workplace conversations, casual flirting, implications of cheating oops fuck off maud, just cutesy boss!declan who talks too much and shy!reader who keeps to herself but they both have a little crush on each other! very wholesome!

author’s note: just 3k words of mutual pining and workplace crush declan core. this request sparked my interest and i thought i’d write a little something for it🤷‍♀️ do with it what you will.

You were a quiet person. You preferred your own company and despised parties. Not to mention your hatred for public speaking and meeting new people. It had been that way since you were a kid, you just always kept to yourself; the textbook definition of introverted. 

When your degree in journalism landed you a job at Corinium Televison it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for your career, but upon meeting Declan O’hara you were laying your apprehensions at the door.

He was charming, charismatic and confrontational. Your opposite in every way, yet you adored working for him. He was the kind of journalist you admired, the kind who would do anything for a story and push boundaries. You felt honored working alongside him.

He was an open book when it came to his job, willing to tell you anything you wanted to know and teach you everything there was to learn. As his assistant you spent most of your day listening to Declan talk, in the short time you had worked for him you felt like you could write a biography on his life– well his professional life at least. 

Declan on the other hand knew little to nothing about you. You were this quiet young thing that catered to his every whim, oftentimes knowing exactly what he needed before he even did. It amazed him how hard you worked; how knowledgeable you were, but how little you made your presence known. Anyone else half as good at their job would make it a point to be loud and obnoxious about their successes, but not you.

You were an anomaly to him. 

He watched as you sat across from him sorting through a heap of editorials and tabloids. You were silently working, as usual, but the lack of noise in the room was eating away at Declan. He needed to fill the emptiness, or perhaps he just wanted to hear your voice.

“Didn’t you mention you took a few classes in gender studies in school?” 

Declan’s question had your hands pausing their current task of flipping through news articles. 

How did he remember that? 

It was something you told him in passing. A whisper from your lips as he was scoffing at something sexist Tony said to another employee. You made a snide comment under your breath that only Declan caught which then led you to inform him of your choice of studies in college.

But that was weeks ago, and now he was casually bringing it up while you both looked over materials to help with the next taping of his show. 

“Just thought it could be helpful given the circumstances.” 

He was referring to next week’s guest being a morally corrupt and painfully problematic politician. 

“Yeah, I did.” You didn’t look up from the papers as you spoke. 

“It actually had me thinking about changing my major for a bit.”

You weren’t sure why you were delving into your educational history.

Then again, it was Declan.

He was always asking you questions, and you were always answering them. He had a way of making you divulge things, which made sense given the nature of his job and how good he was at it.

You briefly peered up at him to find his eyes already fixed on you. It was almost unnerving. 

Your lips quirked in an unvoluntary smile as you watched the man across from you grow interested in something as trivial as your collegiate experience.

It was funny how involved in the conversation he’d become. His hands were no longer holding newspapers, instead they were folded and resting gently on the desk in front of him. His eyes were focused on you from underneath his glasses– the ones he only ever wore while the two of you rummaged through articles on your lunchbreak. 

“Why didn’t you?” His question was genuine. The inflection in his voice and the way his stare stayed on yours had you squirming in your seat. It was silly really, how uneasy he made you feel. It was as if he were interrogating you when it was just one simple question. 

“Um, I don’t really know. I guess I was just so far into my major it felt like I’d have to start over if I switched directions.” 

You averted your gaze back to the papers on the desk, picking up the first headline you saw and pretending to scan the words on the page. 

“Well, maybe I’m biased, but I’m glad you stuck with journalism. Don’t know if I’d have you here if you didn’t.” His words had a certain spring to them, which was rare for most people to hear but you had gotten quite used to the welcoming tone. 

You just offered a warm smile as you kept looking over the materials in front of you, barely meeting his eyes that were still glued on you. 

It drove Declan insane, the way you would politely dismiss him when he tried to get to know you.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t held a conversation with you for longer than ten minutes. But for some reason it was all he wanted to do. He was fascinated by you. It was like he had this need to figure out every little detail about your life.

Why were you so hard to crack? More importantly why was he so infatuated with you?

Maybe it was because he had grown so used to being able to read everyone but he could never read you. It was like you had a way of sneaking through his expertise and he found himself obsessing on it; wanting to prove to himself and to you that he could make his way past the guard that you held up so tightly. So, he remembered every little detail you shared with him and took notice of even the smallest things you let slip through the cracks of your solitude. You may have been selective in your communication but it didn’t stop Declan from piecing you together. Every conversation shared between you had him filling in the puzzle bit by bit.

“I’m sorry if I talk too much.” Declan had turned his attention back to his desk as he apologized.

You stopped rummaging through papers to look up at him, a smile slipping onto your lips before an almost silent chuckle fell from them. 

“Well, isn’t that your job? To talk to people?” You were still softly giggling as you spoke.

The sound had a certain warmth spreading through Declan’s chest. Your laugh was such a delighted sound, so gentle and sweet– almost melodic. He was trying not to question the innate pull he felt toward you upon hearing the noise; tried not to listen to the little voice in his head that was telling him to say something else just to hear it again. 

“Yes, but not you. I’m not meant to be cross-examining my employees.” 

He cringed as the word employee left his mouth. He didn’t like referring to you as that. He saw you as more of an equal. The power dynamic between a boss and their employee was something that Declan wasn’t fond of. Plus, given the way his mind would often wonder to rather unprofessional thoughts about you, he felt much better about viewing you as just a coworker. 

“I don’t mind.” Your response was quiet as you offered him a soft smile. 

Although, that wasn’t the complete truth. You very obviously did mind. Both of you knew it.

You were always so apprehensive to chat with the man, but that was only because you had just a teeny tiny crush on him, and it made your already shy disposition seem even more withdrawn. If it were up to you, there would be absolutely no small talk between you. All you wanted was to avoid conversations with him so your attraction would eventually diffuse, but he made it nearly impossible by always insisting you join him in his office to help with projects. 

“Are you going out with everyone tonight?” Thankfully Declan was veering your conversation a different direction. 

“Oh god no.” After the words left your lips you almost clapped a hand over your mouth.

You didn’t mean to be so blunt, but every Friday a bunch of people from the office went out for drinks at Bar Sinister. They always invited you but you constantly turned them down. The idea of it sounded like your own personal hell.

Declan’s eyes shot up to you at the way you answered his question. He was chuckling at your brutally honest response, the sound of his laugh low and rough.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out that way… I just- I have plans.” You were fumbling out your words, trying to cover up your complete disinterest in after-work activities with your coworkers.

“Oh really? And what are these grand plans?”

Declan was prying as he always did and you felt compelled to answer even though there was no reason to be discussing your weekend plans with your boss.

“A movie night.” 

Your answer was short and simple. It had Declan raising an eyebrow.

“Ah a movie night. Sounds like a special occasion.”

“Very special. My couch and I are really looking forward to it.”

The sarcastic exchange made Declan chuckle yet again. You’d never seen him like this, so giddy and entertained by your words. 

“Well it sounds lovely. Wish I had more nights like that honestly. Can’t tell you the last time I sat and just watch a good film”

“You and Maud never watch movies?”

You weren’t sure why you brought his wife up. He had mentioned her a few times but kept their relationship private for the most part. Maybe bringing her name into the conversation was a subconscious way of reminding yourself that he was taken. 

“I can’t remember the last time Maud and I did anything like that together.” His voice was quiet as he spoke about his wife. You could almost hear a hint of resentment in his words.

Declan wasn’t expecting you to bring up Maud. At the mention of her name he realized something. He had stayed loyal to his wife for years while she cheated on him. He never touched another woman let alone looked at anyone with romantic intentions. But the way he thought about you– it was as if he might as well of been having an affair, and he didn’t even feel guilty about it. Maybe he had finally given up. Maybe the way that you looked at him, the way you talked to him, the mere thought of you, had him realizing that his marriage was doomed and there was still hope for him to start new with someone else. With someone warm, and kind, and passionate. Someone who shared his ideals and interests. Someone who would watch movies, criticize politics and discuss literature with him. Someone like you.

He forced himself to stop going down the rabbit trail of imaginary scenarios in which the two of you were romantically involved. He was quickly reminded of the fact that you worked for him as he watched you sitting across from him very clearly uncomfortable by his depressing commentary about his marriage. Not to mention you barely knew each other outside of work, he was being utterly ridiculous.

“What about you?” He changed the topic, grabbing a random newspaper off the desk and pretending to thumb through it as he continued his question.

“You have a special someone joining you for your big movie night?”

He couldn't help but inquire about your dating life. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't spent an ungodly amount of time wondering if you had a boyfriend.

“No, just me... maybe a few snacks.” You didn't bother to look up from your reading as you answered.

“No boyfriend?” 

“No boyfriend.”

At that, your gaze met his again. Your expression was curious and a bit tickled at his effort to dig into your personal life.

“I find that hard to believe.”

The two of you were looking right at each other. Declan let the comment fall from his mouth without really thinking. The furrow of your eyebrows in confusion had him realizing that he spoke the words out loud.

“Why do you say that?” Normally you'd let the conversation go, hoping you could just get back to work without any further discussion but you couldn't help but wonder what he meant by that.

“Well, it’s just…” 

Declan thought for a moment, figuring out how he wanted to proceed. Did he cross a line and tell you the truth or did he remain professional and clean up his mess before it was fully spilled out between the two of you. 

“You’re brilliant, and thoughtful, and beautiful.” His eyes were on yours as he spoke, deciding to take the chance of making things awkward and paying you a rather allusive compliment.

The way your expression subtly lit up when he called you beautiful had him thankful for taking the risk. It even gave him enough motivation to finish his thought. 

“I just feel like a young woman like you could easily get any man you wanted, that's all.” 

With that he had rendered you completely flustered. Thank God he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating.

Your eyes flitted down to the papers on the desk as you quietly murmured a “thank you”, unsure if you could make eye contact when you acknowledged his words. 

“I’m sorry if that was… “ Declan started to speak, but then quickly let the words trail off once he noticed you were throwing yourself back into work.

“I’m gonna shut up now.” He decided to finally let you have a moment of silence, retiring to the work ahead of him.

The two of you were quiet but Declan's mind was racing, he was worried that his comment had made you uncomfortable, and he had no idea how to fix it.

Then he looked up again and saw the shy smile that you were desperately trying to hide as you held documents in front of your face, pretending to read them. He saw the slight changes in your body language; the crossing and uncrossing of your legs, the fluttering of your eyelashes, the way your fingers were tapping against the papers in your hand. You were fidgety. Could it be his words that made you so flustered?

Declan couldn’t stop the smirk from forming on his lips at the idea of you being all ruffled over him paying you such a small compliment. It was cute– endearing even. He'd never seen you like this.

“One more thing.” His voice was once again filling the room.

You looked up with your eyebrows knitted in confusion, prompting him to go on. 

“If, for some reason, you ever find yourself going out with everyone one of these nights, let me know. I’ll join you.” He didn't look at you as he spoke, just kept his eyes trained on the work in his hand.

“We can have a drink, and you can let me annoy you with more questions without it disrupting your work ethic.” He continued to work as he aimed his words in your direction.

His invitation was casual and nonchalant but it had your smile growing wider. You were sure he was expecting you to turn him down the same way you did with everyone else, but the little devil on your shoulder, that rarely got its way, was desperately whispering in your ear to take him up on the offer.

“Next Friday it is.” Your voice was gentle but steady as you accepted his invitation.

At your words his head shot up and his expression was undeniably smug.

For some reason you suddenly felt nervous. It wasn't like it was a date or anything, half of the office would be there, but for some reason the thought of being with Declan outside of work had a fluttering sensation filling your stomach. 

“Perfect, I’ll hold you to it.”

He was flashing you a friendly wink, but it only added to the embarrassing way your body was reacting to him; blood rushing to your cheeks, stomach in knots, and a giddy smile threatening to take over your face. You had to force yourself to look back down at the words beneath you.

You were in trouble.

You could hardly hold a conversation with the man without stumbling over your words and swooning in his presence and now you were agreeing to get a drink with him? A drink, in a bar, with no work to distract you. But it was just as coworkers, right? Friends, and nothing more. He just wanted to get to know you because you worked for him. Yeah, that’s what you’d tell yourself so you could muster up the courage to not flake on the impending date with your boss who called you beautiful straight to your face. It was no big deal really. 

And then before going back to reading, you looked at Declan one last time only to see that he was the one focused on work now. But the soft smile lingering on his lips was impossible to miss.

my masterlist

[jyoongim]

i saw this one story of urs where it was alastor and vox sister reader, and im OBSESSEDDDD I LOVE UR STORIES!!

im obsessed with the trope of two rivals then one courts the others family member, its so good!! so, in honor of my love for this trope..

alastor rearranging the readers guts and broadcasting it for all of hell to hear, including vox. OR, even better, using vox’s own technology to broadcast it for all of hell to WATCH! i want the reader crying, glitching out and begging from overstimulation, and possibly even overheating from it. and maybe a bit of praise and degradation? pretty please? :3

your new anon, pixie 🤍🌸

Warnings: Vox!Sister!Reader x Alastor, in love with the enemy trope, Smut! Overstimulation, begging, praise/degradation, slight humiliation, taunting

Think of reader like a humanoid robot

——————————————————————————————-

Vox had always made sure that you stayed clear of Alastor.

He didnt want the Radio head anywhere near you.

You were his little sister and he would be damned if that old-timely prick got his hands on you.You felt bad for your brother, he was trying to protect you after all, but you were a big girl and could handle your own affairs.

Vox had warned you against getting close to the Radio Demon multiple times, and while at first you listened, Alastor had found you quite interesting. Being Vox’s sister was just a bonus, he liked seeing Vox growl in disapproval or take you away from the red demon’s prying eyes. 

Alastor had been making Vox’s life feel like a whirlpool with the constant close proximity he had with you and then turning around to belittle him for all of Hell to hear.

But you liked the attention the red demon gave you.

It was the first time in satan knows how long, that someone wasn’t terrified of Vox and his influence and you could just feel appreciated.

Alastor was a gentleman. He took the time to get to know you and after a while you accepted his advances.

You didnt have the heart to tell Vox.

I mean what would you tell him?

’oh yea by the way! I’ve been seeing Alastor behind your back even though I know you hate his guts’

You really wanted him to at least tolerate Alastor as your partner.

”What’s on your mind doll?” a rough low voice said, making you blink out of your headspace.

Alastor tilted his head as you smiled ”oh its nothing. Just wished that my brother didnt hate you. You’re not as bad as he says you are”

Alastor chuckled. The two of you had been seeing each other behind the Televison’s back and it gave Alastor so much joy of the thrill knowing you fancied him enough to go against your brother.

He rubbed your thighs reassuringly as he pressed a soft kiss to your pouty lips. “Oh really?” He smirked.

You shook your head, not wanting to think about it anymore. To shift the mood, you tangled your fingers in his fluffy locks, pulling him back to your mouth.

The two of you were in his radio tower for a late night rendezvous.

Vox would blow a fuse if he knew you had snuck out of headquarters to see the red demon.

You pressed your body against his, grinding your hips against the hard bump in Alastor’s pants. You smirked against his lips “aww you missed me that much?” Alastor growled lowly as he dug his claws in your soft skin.

Most secret nights were spent having intense make out sessions and heavy petting.

But you wanted to go further, it was always Alastor who stopped before the two of you could go any further.

You slipped from his lap, to situate yourself between his thighs. Your hands fumbled with his belt and right when your fingers pulled at the band of his boxers, Alastor stopped you.

”I think its quite late to indulge in such activities dearest”

You pouted up at him, eyes swirling up at him “I just want to make you feel good too…don’t you want to fuck me Al?”

You nuzzled your nose against his erection, purring “I don’t know when Vox’ll let me out again” 

How he resist when you looked so cute peppering kisses to his cock?

He let out a groan and when he didnt protest any further, you pulled until his cock sprang from its confines and slapped against your lips.

You took ahold of the girthy length and stroked it a few times before wrapping your lips around the tip.

Alastor sighed as you swirled your tongue on the tip of his cock, giving it kitten licks before taking him whole.

You bobbed your head happily, sending vibrations along his length as you sucked.

A hand wrapped in your hair,pushing you further down until you gurgled around him.

Alastor’s cock twitched in your throat as he looked down at you.

Oh what a pretty thing you were…

He snatched you off him, ignoring your whine when he pulled you back into his lap. He grinned at you. You were buzzing, skin flushed. He pulled you close to his face “seems you’ve convinced me enough to indulge you my dear”

A hand made its way under your dress, toying with your panties.

”To think your brother thinks he can keep you away from me” he chuckled as a finger caressed your puffy clit. You let out a low gasp, leaning into him as he played with your pussy.

You jolted when a finger slid into your warm heat, curling along your gummy walls. You mewled in his shoulder, grinding into his hand. Alastor grinned as your sticky slick dripped onto his hand, adding a second finger, he curled them into your walls, stretching you out.

His lips pressed into your exposed shoulder, sharp teeth nipping ”you’ll be a good girl for me wont you doll?” You nodded and gasped as he slipped his fingers out of you and picked you up to lay you across his control panel.

He grinned above you as he pulled at your dress. Your full tits spilled, nipples perking as they were exposed to the cool air.

You threw your head back as he pinched and twisted the peaks, letting out a ragged moan when his hot mouth enveloped the mound, switching between the two, sucking on your nipples like a babe seeking milk

“Ooh-Ah” you sighed when he tugged a nipple with his teeth.

Alastor grinded his cock against your smoldering heat, coating him in your essence.

His lips released your tit and trailed up to litter your collarbone and neck in kisses. You blinked when his face appeared in your vision.

You gave him a soft smile and hooked your legs around his waist.

You were tingling with excitement. The buttons on his control panel dug into your back, but you were focused on the demon looming over you.

”I fear your brother will be furious if he discovered our treachery” 

He was givin you one last chance to change your mind, but at this moment all you wanted was the pleasure that he could grant you.

So you threw caution to the wind

You angled your hips so his cock catch your clit, pulling him by his collar 

“Fuck Vox”

He grinned and when he slotted his lips against yours, he thrusted into you, swallowing your groan as he stretched your cunt.

Unbeknownst to you, Alastor had turned his radio frequency on.

You were unaware that he was now broadcasting his defilement of you. 

Voxtech’s pampered princess.

”A-Ala..Oh fuck!” You moaned in his neck as he filled you.

Alastor groaned in your ear “you take me so well darlin hehe i knew you would” bottoming out til his balls rested on the curve of your ass.

Your face was buried in his neck, body tingling as your systems ran haywire.

But when he pulled his hips back and pushed again and again and again you couldn’t stop the airy gasps that left your throat.

Your cunt clenched around his cock as he buried himself in you, soft grunts rattling in his throat as he pushed your hips deeper into the control panel. You were sure you’ll have the marks afterwards from how hard he was pummeling into you but that was a matter to be concerned with later.

A hand wrapped around your locks, pulling your face from his neck to look at him. Your lip was caught between your teeth, trying to contain the depraved sounds that bubbled in your chest. Your face was flushed and your eyes were blown.

Alastor peppered your heated face with kisses, whispering perverted nothings against your skin as he rutted up into you.

”Seven hells this cunt is perfect fuck! you look so pretty doll. My pretty girl. This what you wanted isn’t it? Hmm? You wanted me to take you didnt you doll?”

High pitch whines left your throat as his pace quickened.

”A-Al p-please oh fuck oh fuck I’m gonna ah!” Your cunt gushed and squeezed as your orgasm wrecked through your system.

Alastor sneered in your face, eyes narrowed as your face contorted in pleasure “That’s right doll cum on my cock. That’s a good girl. Such a good little slut”

You let out a cry as your systems buzzed as you creamed his cock.

You slumped against his chest, panting as your body shook.

”oh sweetheart I’m not done with you”

Vox was fuming.

How dare that insufferable loser take over his systems!

He was trying to gain control over the frequencies when he froze at the sound of your voice.

No

”Alastor oh fuck!” Your voice ranged out on the monitors.

No No No No NO!

FUCK NO!

Vox watched in horror as his baby sister cried out in ecstasy.

”Sir the channels are blocked how would you like me-”

”GET THE FUCK OUT!” He roared.

Vox sat in his chair and plugged various cables into his import.

He would be damned if anyone else saw you in such a disgraceful state. He checked every monitor in the city and shut the system down. He limited it to only Voxtech headquarters.

”that’s a good little slut”

Vox growled as the systems glitched and became distorted.

”P-please please please! Al no more” tears streamed down your face as blue sparks flew from your systems.

Your legs trembled as the red demon pounded into you.

Your body jolted against his control panel as your claws ripped through the metal.

”You can take a little more can’t you doll?” Alastor asked as he worked you through another orgasm.

Your body was covered in sweat and your systems were working overtime to prevent you from overheating.

Alastor’s cock twitched as your core heated up. It was like being surrounded by molten goo. Your cum was dripping down your legs and coating his length.

You cried out as his cock get that sweet spot inside you, the sound of your cunt squelching and his skin hitting yours radiated through the room.

”I wonder how far I can push your systems dear. Youve got such a pretty pussy, wonder how much of my cum you can take”

Every word had you clenching around him.

”Allllllll” you whined as your system started to glitch, a warning ding ringing in your head.

”You like me ruining you don’t you doll? What would your dear brother say if he saw you taking the cock of the radio demon? I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I send you back to him filled with my cum, oooh yes would you like that pretty doll? To go back home stuffed with my cum hmmm?”

”too m-uch oh fuck fuck fuck Al! Ah! Please please I t-think I’m-I’m gonna OH!” Your body seized as you glitched out, sparks flying and the lights on the control panel flickered as Alastor tore your orgasm from you. A cry ripped for your lips as your eyes dimmed, systems shutting down as you milked his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him.

Alastor came with a growl as he painted your heated walls white, humming in satisfaction when your body went limp and a soft beeping came from you.

With a squish, he pulled his cock out of you and watched as his cum dripped out of you. 

He watched as you slid from the panel and into a heap on the floor. Your body convulsed and twitched as your eyes glowed on and off, a soft static coming from you. He hummed and grinned as Vox appeared across your eyes.

”Hello old pal enjoy the show? Hope you don’t mind the little dear coming home late she’s a bite worst for wares.” 

Bright sparks flew from you as Vox tried to boot your systems back up.

”YOU FUCKING PRICK! I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU!” Vox growled.

Alastor chuckled, before pulling your limp body to him. He angled your head so Vox could see him clearly and rested his head on your ass. He grinned when electricity ran through you, a protective measure no doubt, he leaned down to your used cunt and placed a soft kiss to your cunt, sucking it into his mouth. 

Vox smashed his control panel and cursed when your systems sent a report of the mess you were.

“Hehe until next time old friend” Alastor crackled as he took over your systems, blocking Vox from having any access.

[richardarmitagefanpage]

Richard at the National Television Awards at The O2 Arena in London, UK. (September 11, 2024)

[delphinium-03]

marcys parents are abusive

theres literally so many signs to show that marcy has faced trauma BEFORE landing in amphibia. I think that her parents might be abusive in some way (best guess- emotionally) because your brain usually shows you the things you wanted as a child to be your escape in that case. marcy obviously didnt think that at first. when she got the news that they were going to move out, she knew that her only escape- her friends- would be lost to her forever. she pulled a stupid stunt with the box, but SHE DIDNT THINK IT WAS GOING TO WORK. and landing in newtopia which was eerily similar to the fantasy games she's obsessed with where she quite literally leveled up to be the EMPEROR'S second in command showed her that she never HAD to go back to that life. and you may say "she's only thirteen theres no way" but it explains a lot. only a child would think running from her problems would be the only decision, since she had no power over her parents. theres wayyy more proof to this: - she says "i just didnt want to be alone". but she wouldnt be, because she had her family. unless of course, she felt alone WITH her family. -the way she reacted after being told they were moving

-why she was so drawn to Andreais's deal

-how even after everything she went through was BROADCASTED on televison, and she would have told her parents that the whole thing happened because they were moving. AND THEY STILL MOVED.

-she hasn't seen anne and sasha for TEN YEARS. and she hasnt even TALKED TO THEM AFTER SHE LEFT? gimme a break marcy is a trauma victim. prove me wrong.

[confettiswirling]

Possible Turn of Events Post-WOTFI 2024

Here's the most likely thing that could happen.

A therapy session with Dr. Smg3 is obviously the thing to do.

In fact, he's an expert in this kind of stuff.

Meggy will support hiim during recovery.

Just the typical villian reform.

BUT WHERE'S THE FUN IN THAT?

Here's my very own SMG4 Arc idea, with moments of drama, humor, and love.

This..

Seems to ressemble this..

Troubled children's souls trapped inside a televison for eternity

Also, there's a difference between the way Mr. Puzzles acts inside the TV as opposed to how he acts on the inside (Of his soul)

Chaotic and muderous on the outside...

A friendship-craving child on the inside.

Maybe it's the TV that's the problem. Maybe that's were he's more corrupt.

This means that the only way to truly reform him, to seprate him from the TV...

And raise him properly with all the love and support he didn't get from his early childhood.

Thus, giving Meggy a little brother (Because she'd feel weird being called a "mom"", and her own protégé to train the the best of his ability, as well as a new member of the crew!

Lol, I'm actually really obbessed with this idea and the adventures coming with it. Feel free to share your own ideas in replies, for this arc, or your own idea of what should happen post-WOTFI 2024.

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

L x Reader pt. 5: the billionaire and the prostitute

Finally got this out! Only took an extra three days 🫠 hopefully I can get back on track after this :)

It's Halloween! Isn't that fun? cool costumes, magic in the air, half-off candy the next day. It was your favorite holiday when you were young, and if you had to pick a favorite now, you supposed it would still be Halloween.

But you were working.

It was no big deal, it just meant you would have to devote the best hours of Halloween, midnight to the very early morning, catering to a man.

Of course...that man was L. You didn't mind him. In fact, if you were being honest, you wouldn't have said yes to seeing any of your other clients.

But to be clear, it didn't mean you liked him. It just meant you...favored him. two separate things.

in any case, getting ready went smoothly, even with your new nails occasionally getting in the way. They weren't too long, maybe an inch, and almond cut. You decided to go for a nice base shade that complimented your skin tone, with crimson French tips and a few gem accents. they were a little basic, but you liked them. It was especially nice when you sent the invoice to L, and he immediately refunded you for the set.

You visited another client in between the time you got your nails and now, and to your surprise no comments were made. He didn't mind at all. As much as you'd love to have L pay you for a lost customer, if only to prove your point, you couldn't.

You went through the mundane tasks it took to get ready, though you got to pay homage to the holiday by wearing a silk black dress and blood-red lingerie. something for you to have a little fun with.

Finally, after applying your red lipstain, you were carted off to join L at...a different hotel. He moved, for some reason. You didn't notice until watari started taking turns you didn't recognize, which admittedly made you nervous.

"Where are we going?"

"L has changed locations, as he will frequently. I believe it was outlined in your contract."

"Oh, right..." you vaguely remember reading it, but you were a little too eager to sign, and because of that you didn't really pay attention.

The lines of the building watari pulled up to were much cleaner than the last place, the architecture sleek and new-age compared to the more opulent style of the previous hotel. You wondered what he moved so much for...and these places weren't too far from each other.

By the time you got to his room, you were tired of navigating the grey and white halls lit with fluorescence. It suited him, but god did it all look the same.

You knocked, and this time he answered himself. The door gently pulled open, and there he stood, looking as grey as the walls around him. He looked tired, more than usual.

"You're here," he stated quietly, looking down at your hands.

You brought a hand in between the two of you, splaying your fingers for him to see. "I got my nails done," you state.

"I'm aware. I paid for them." Despite his apathetic answer, he still studied the work, seeming fairly satisfied.

"Come in." He turned from you, walking away from the door and expecting you to follow. You did, and observed your new surroundings. This place had a far more open concept, the door entering directly into the living room area with a kitchenette off to the side. The living room contained one couch, a TV, and a dark wood table in between. The table was covered with towers of pastries, cakes, candies, fruits. If it had sugar, it was there. On the walls perpendicular to the door, there were two other doors that you suspected led into a bedroom and bathroom. Nice place.

"You've upgraded," you remark, gesturing to the TV and it's accompanying snacks.

"I'd hardly call it that." He settled himself on the couch, and instead of sitting beside him, you went around the back and leaned over, resting your arms on the frame, directly above him. He didn't react. "Do you enjoy watching televison?"

"Yeah, I do. If I wasn't here, I'd be at home watching a halloween movie." A little snide to say, but not necessarily rude.

"It is halloween..." he mused. "Is that something you celebrate?"

"I suppose. I sit in, eat candy, maybe get dressed up. What about you?"

He glanced upward in thought, his thumb instinctively resting on his lip. "Today would be one I enjoy, in theory."

You laugh. "Oh? Why, because of the sweets?"

He doesn't look at you, he just keeps his attention somewhere in the ether. "...yes, that would be a reason why."

You sigh, and idly trail your hand up from his elbow to his shoulder. Only then does he look away from the somewhere. "So what do you like, if not a day dedicated to sugar?"

"...my work," he answers slowly, his gaze following your hand. "And...puzzles."

You laugh again, this time with a little more warmth. "How old are you," you tease. "You sound like you belong in a nursing home."

"I enjoy games." L grabs your hand, gingerly, just as it reaches the cap of his shoulder. "I like to feel challenged." He pulls it farther down, wanting to view your nails more closely. He thumbs over the gem on your pointer finger, his eyes tracing the curved line of the French tip. He's quiet for a moment, and so are you. Finally, he turns his head to face you.

"I appreciate your effort," he says.

It was simple, quite honestly the way an employer thanks employee, but it felt so oddly intimate. Maybe it was the look in his grey-black eyes, or the way his thumb slid up and down the juncture of your hand and your wrist, but it made something inside you ooze down the sides of your ribcage, down to your stomach to pool warmly above the in-between of your hips.

It made you pull away.

You hid your flustered reaction by walking around the couch and sitting beside him, an excuse for your behavior. "It wasn't a big deal," you mutter.

He watches, and when you sit he holds eye contact with you. "Do you like them?"

He was asking as if he picked them for you. "Yeah. Do you?"

He looks down at your hands again. "I do."

You look to the array of snacks on the table, and he follows your gaze. "I've been working. Excuse the mess."

Now that you looked, it really was messy, scattered with wrappers, half-eaten cookies, sugar cube towers toppled over, and decapitated chocolate bears. "What do you do again?"

"Nothing of importance to you."

That felt a little cold. You liked it. It didn't give you any complex feelings, it only left you with that familiar snark you sometimes got around him. "Yeah yeah, very mysterious. Are we starting soon or what?"

He gave the smallest of smiles at your sharpness, a slight twitch of his lips. "Actually, I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright."

"Like what?"

"Do you...have any companions?"

"Like, friends?"

"Yes."

You thought for a moment. Of course you had friends, there were plenty of people you could call a friend. For example- well, there was...hm...

"I...do. kind of. I'm just busy."

He studied your face. "I don't believe you."

You rolled your eyes. "Why ask if you don't like my answer?"

"I'd be content with your answer if it were true. But I don't believe it is."

"And why's that," you huff.

he leans in, just a little, and tilts his head. "You're too particular."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you and I are very similar."

You cross your arms. "Say what you like, but there's no reason for you to believe something so baseless."

"It's not baseless. I know because of the way you answered. The way you spoke, how your eyes shifted to one side. And...I doubt I would find you as intriguing as I do if you weren't particular."

You sigh. "Why do you want to know, anyway?"

L turns to face the table, reaching for a now cold cup of tea. "Curiosity."

"As always," you scoff.

He gives you a sidelong glance, before picking up the cup and taking a sip. "Do you enjoy your work?"

Now he changes the subject. "I do. I'm wildly lecherous," you answer dryly.

"Lecherous...yes, that would be a word to describe you."

That was fair, you guessed. You said it yourself, after all. "I was joking."

"Is that so?" He reached for a macaron, stopping halfway to decide between a pink one and a blue one.

"It is," you nod. L takes both of the macarons, and shoves the pink one in his mouth. The other, he holds up to his eye, examining it in the light.

"You're not very good at making jokes then."

That garners a chuckle from you. "Right, because you're such a comedian."

"I made you laugh, didn't I?" He breaks the macaron into perfect halves, setting one down and taking the other in his index finger and thumb.

"I was laughing at you," you taunt.

He was quiet as he snapped the half in his hand into neat quarters, finally eating the tiny pieces one by one. "I'd like to get started."

"Alright then," you shrug, ready to move on anyway. "What is it tonight?"

"Oral." He glances to you, as if questioning whether or not you'd say yes.

"I can do oral." Easy stuff, considering your experience. "Take off your pants then."

"...I mean, I'd like to preform oral."

"Oh!" You shouldn't have assumed...but, who could blame you, most guys requested to recieve oral. "Well then...brush your teeth first." You weren't going to have all those crumbs...there.

He nodded, and stood to shuffle off to the bathroom.

You sat quietly, admiring your nails, taking glances around, listening to the sounds of his cleaning. It was nice here...not just how the room was, but some air that traveled from the last place to this one. Maybe it was him. You'd rather not dwell.

He returns, the light scent of mint on his breath.

"Ready," you ask, sitting upright.

He nods and plops down beside you. "I am." He turns to face you, and glances to your lips. You smile, just enough to signal your willingness, and he leans in. He's tentative at first, still adjusting to having the charge for once, but as you find your rhythm he gets a little more intense. He's figured out the pattern by now, what he can do and what he can't, how to progress smoothly.

His tongue slithers out of his mouth, sliding against your bottom lip in a request for entrance. You open your mouth, and he tilts his head to find a pleasant angle for both of you. His kissing is always so neat. So slow, so clean.

You bring your hand up his arm, your nails skittering across his neck and into his hair to gently scratch at his scalp. He shivers, and pulls away to kiss your jaw. He doesn't spend much time there before he's pressing his lips to your neck, down and back, seeming to be...searching. he pauses above your skin for a moment, before leaning in to press a wet, gentle kiss to the spot about two inches below your ear. You let out a contented hum, and he takes that as a sign he's doing something right.

He continues to smother the area as your fingertips swirl through his hair, his hands carefully gliding up your legs. He stops where your dress starts, and without rising for air he feels up your body, wanting to find a zipper, and hoping to bring you pleasure in the process.

He fondles your sides, his hands ghosting over the fabric as he reacquaints himself with your curves. Thighs, hips, waist...the small of your back...zipper. by now, he's led himself to the other side of your neck, a trail of wet marks in cold air left in his wake.

he pulls your hair to one side, and steadily unzips your dress, watching his own movements from his place above your shoulder. He could see how the fabric sank from your form...the way it loosened, and wilted from you like black petals. And underneath...

red.

deep red, that stood out against the expanse your skin. His hand skipped up your back in feather-light carresses, until it reached the clasp of your lingerie. He was about to undo it, but a thought struck him. He wanted to appreciate the view first.

He methodically untangled himself from you, pleased to see the ardor in your expression as a result of his touching, and tilted his head down. There was the intricate lace of your bra, fitted to your breasts, and the silk of your dress pooled in your lap. He looked back up to you, and with gentle guidance, led you to lay down.

Ever careful, he dragged the dress down your legs, revealing exactly what he was looking for- those pretty lace panties. You always wore a matching set, and for some reason this particular one got to him. Perhaps it was the way the color complimented you so well, or the passion the color signified. He wasn't going to question it, for now.

L, now between your calves, ran his fingers up your legs, deliberate, until he reached your underwear. He thumbed at the fabric, catching his index finger in the waistband to better feel the texture between his fingertips. "Red suites you," he murmured, not once looking up to meet your focused eyes, not even at your equally low "thank you."

With all the calm he could maintain, he removed the garment, watching as sticky fluid clung to it, as if attempting to pull it back. That alone was enough to arouse him, and with the way your chest heaved with each bated breath, he knew he would have to restrain his lust. He would wait. He was nothing if not patient, and he wanted to make this last.

He hovered above you now, and with a chaste kiss to your lips he began to kiss down your body. As he mouthed your clavicle, he unclasped your bra, which you kindly removed for him. That gave him plenty of free range to suckle at your breasts, to kiss and caress and appreciate.

He had never considered himself as someone to prefer one body part to another- they all served equally important and clinical purposes- but if he were to pick one part of you, he might say your chest. The mounds of soft, warm flesh were pleasing to the touch, and with such positive reinforcement as your mewls of pleasure and your fingers in his hair, how could he resist?

Still, he had to move on. He trailed his lips down your sternum, down your stomach, over your hips, just as he had read of and observed in his study of this subset of sex, until he reached the area he had most been anticipating.

L finally looked up at you, assured by your light panting, and with firm pressure he stroked his tongue up from your entrance to your clit. The fluttering of your lashes would have been motivation enough, but at the discovery of your flavor, he was delighted. No, it wasn't sugary-sweet, but it was...it was perfect. The slight tang, the musk, the thin consistency. It was something so innately human, so base, so vital. He wanted more of it.

He circled your clit, and at the tension in your hips he brought his hands down to hold them to the couch cushion. He lapped and laved over the sensitive nub, moving in tandem with the whine of your hips, working his tongue beneath the hood to give as much pleasure as possible.

You hum and moan, one hand gripping his hair, the other gripping the armrest beneath your head. "Oh, L," you whisper, your head tossing as your writhe beneath his skillful mouth.

He wraps one arm around your thigh, replacing his tongue with his middle fingers rubbing in tight circles so he can grant himself the experience of penetration. His head lowered, and you could feel the bump of his nose press to your walls, just before his lips pucker around your entrance. His wet, warm tongue meets the ingress, and as it presses in with tentative curiosity, your hips whine.

His tongue is long, pointed with precision to find the right angle, and when he does, it's glorious. The vigorous sliding in and out as his tongue arched perfectly into that one spot, his fingers still working your clit without rest- it was too much.

your back arched, you hands clawing at the fabric of the couch beneath your head as you let out a loud, unrestrained moan. He worked you through it, only stopping when the tension left your body. He didn't want to overstimulate you, after all.

Once you were panting and limp, he sat upright, licking what he could from his face and leaving the rest.

You, after a few breathless seconds, sat up a little, your eyes watery. Alright, fine, you had to admit, the guy was pretty damn good at giving head.

"Where'd you learn that? Are there other prostitutes in your life," you tease, trying to distract from you disheveled state.

"I've been doing thorough research," he murmurs, his own breathing quick. At least he was affected too.

You lever yourself all the way up using the back of the couch as a grip, and come face to face with him. "You sure you don't want me to...reciprocate?"

He thinks for a moment. "Would you like to?" That same blasé tone, as if nothing mattered.

"I don't see why not," you shrug. You figured you kind of owed him. Or, rather, you owed yourself the affirmation that you were better at this than he was.

He looks down at himself for a moment, and you follow suite. How incredibly hard he was, it was a wonder those jeans didn't rip open. "I can help you out," you say, a wry grin on your face.

He nods hesitantly as he slides back from you, all the way until he can press his spine to the arm of the couch. You back up a little, supporting yourself with your hands braced around his legs, and quickly unbutton his pants. He does you the service of pulling his pants and underwear down, just to his knees, and he springs out. You've never seen him so hard, you usually get to it as soon as he's able, but now...

"Must be painful," you mock, peering up at him with that same smirk you had when you said something particularly teasing.

"It is," he confirms nonchalantly, simply holding eye contact with you. You stare at each other for a moment, neither of you backing down, before you shake your head and reach for his member. He tenses as you stroke him, the slow up and down motions more frustrating than anything. It was just to work him up a little.

You finally lean down, and as your remove your hand you press soft, delicate kisses up his shaft, he watches with not an ounce of shame or discomfort, only absorbing the sight. When you reach the tip, you take it into your mouth, swirl your tongue around, and look up at him. He's mesmerized.

You keep that hold on his gaze as you slowly sink down, down, down, until he's poking at the back of your throat. He shudders.

You pull up with the same speed, and when your lips are back at the tip, he rests his hand in your hair. He doesn't push or pull, just leaves it there. You slide back down, this time with more purpose, and as your tongue rubs against his length he lets out a shuddering moan. You pick a tempo, something rhythmic but paced, and allow yourself to get lost in it. You go on autopilot, focusing on his sounds, the way his thumb pets your forehead in a way of awarding your actions. After a few moments of this, you begin to focus again, and you catch a glimpse of his face. Or, lack thereof.

His head was tilted back, his Adam's apple bobbing with each desperate swallow of saliva, his hair shadowing his eyes as he panted and groaned. You watched, best you could, as his jaw snapped shut, and you could feel his hand tensing. He was close.

You stopped at his tip and stayed there, working the spot with your tongue and stroking the length with your hand. His head tipped forward, just in time to watch how good you looked as he came in your mouth.

His torso lurched forward, hovering above you as he bucked shallowly into your mouth. He tasted as sweet as you remember, like swallowing sugar-water. How he managed to consume enough sugar to get this sweet and stay alive was beyond you.

His shoulders slumped as he relaxed, and when you sat up, he laid back on his elbows. He was panting for a moment, you couldn't see his eyes past his hair, but his lips were parted in a need for more air. When he finally looked up at you, his eyes were so sharp and focused. Like he could see right through you.

"Good, I suspect," you asked.

"Good...yes..." he mumbled. He had never looked so worn.

"I should probably get going then, if that's all," you sigh, standing and moving to get dressed again. He catches your arm, and as you turn around he's sure to catch your eyes.

"I want to do one last thing, if that's alright."

You pause. Who were you to say no? "...sure. what is it?"

"I'd like to try missionary again." He stands with you, wanting to segway into the bedroom.

Right, that was the whole point of these nails, wasn't it? You wait for him to kick his pants from his ankles, easy considering how loose they were, and trail behind him to the bedroom. This one was just as boring as the last, with clean white sheets and grey furniture.

He stood by the bed in wait, his shirt discarded on the way over. You wasted no time, laying down on the bigger, more comfortable surface. He's quick to climb in with you, and as he cages you between his arms, he plants languid kisses on your mouth and across your neck. He's tired now, even more than before, and he was willing to spend what little energy he has on being inside you.

You kiss him back when his mouth is available, and as he settles between your thighs you trail your nails up his spine, creating thin lines and meaningless shapes. He sighs lightly, and glides a hand down your stomach, over your hips, and to his own member. He guides it to your entrance, and in his need he wastes no time on pleasantries.

He pushes himself in, the sensation pleasing to your own neediness. He was careful with you, gently rocking back and forth, pressing his lips to your neck in an affectionate manner. Your hands stayed braced on his back, your moans in his ear spurring on his thrusting, encouraging him.

He was growing desperate, wanting to finish and feel you do the same. His hand, previously on your hip, made a careful journey to your clitoris. He went just fast enough to make your legs stiffen around his hips, enough to make your nails scratch at his back, enough to make your chest arch into his. In turn, that was enough to make him cum a second time.

His hips stuttered and pressed up against yours, just as your nails dug and clawed into his back. It was painful, but it was real. It was connection. It was passion.

He finally gave way to the urge of his tiredness, and collapsed atop you. He would let his eyes close, he would let himself drift off, but he owed you the ability to get up without hassle.

He pulled out and rolled off of you, his legs instinctively coming up to press against his chest. You roll onto your side to face him, and at the look in his eyes you can see he's near sleep. "That's what you get for staying up all the time," you tease softly.

You sit upright, the cold air reminding you of your nakedness. What a mess...you'd have to get dressed, get in the car, drive home, take a shower, do your skincare, probably eat-

"Stay with me."

"Hm?" Your surprised he's still awake, he looked about ready to pass out.

"I'd appreciate it if you would stay with me tonight."

Tonight? All night? You've never done that before. Cuddled, sure, but not spent the night with a client. Who does he think he is? Like you'd ever agree to something like that, you're not that desperate to sleep, are you? And how could he think you were? Sure, you were a prostitute, but you still had the dignity to sleep in your own goddamn bed at the end of it all.

"...Sure."

You laid back down. He pulled up the comforter. You allowed him to hold you.

Happy birthday to him.

[disneytva]

Laughing Place had a little chat with Disney Television Animation CEO and VP of Disney Branded Televison Animation Meredith Roberts on Big City Greens future.

She hopes to make more episodes, spin-offs and a new show with The Houghton Brothers. 👀

[vasyandii]

Hiiii it's me agaiiinn <3

I just love reading about these two catastrophes

who hogs the covers?

who chooses what to watch on television?

who tries to embarrass the other in public?

what are their love languages?

Thank you <3

KRUEGERNAK HEADCANONS

Hi Gamergirlbones!! It's always a joy to answer your asks, your blog is a treat, thank you so much! <333 let's get started >:3

1.) Who hogs the covers?

Nak! Definitely Nak- She finds comfort in holding things while sleeps. So, Nak hogs pillows, blankets, even Krueger himself. Nak is always cold in some way, whether it be from living in a cold climate or stress, so she's always seeking warmth-

It's not unusual for her to be cocooning herself in an impenetrable fortress of blankets or clinging to Krueger while she sleeps (even though he snores like a train and kicks like a mule in his sleep lmao),It makes her feel safe.

Plus he radiates so much body heat he's liker her personal radiator lmao-

2.) Who chooses what to watch on Televison?

I feel like they both take turns with deciding what to watch on TV- (whoever is on the couch first gets dibs) but both have their ways of doing it-

Nak goes for Streaming services, She likes the variety and trash entertainment, plus she gets to watch the movies she didn't get to see when she was younger

Krueger religiously watches stuff on Cable TV since the Television Nak bought allows for both options. He says that the commercials are part of the experience and find the commercials entertaining to talk trash about (he just wants breaks to do whatever)

3.) Who tries to embarass the other in public?

KRUEGER- if he's in the mood I feel like he's one of the corniest people anyone has ever known. He goes from fairly quiet guy to obnoxious.

He's old enough to not care what others think and Since Nak is so reactive to his teasing he finds it amusing, he just likes seeing her laugh or get flustered:

- walking through a shopping district, loudly announcing, "PhayPhay, Baby, do you want to go check out that store?"

- "Do NOT call me that-"

- "But I was just asking a Question Boo Boo Bear :("

- "Sebastain-"

- walking after her, can't even keep a straight face "SHHH it's okay Come, I will give you a Hug to make you feel better baby schnucks."

- stumbling away from him, Laughing hard as hell "No No- Get away from me asshole!"

4.) What are their Love Languages?

Their love languages are pretty similar, so in their eyes, the other is easy to love :) I'll be separating this into Giving (How they show love) and Recieving (How they feel loved)

Nak

Giving: Acts of Service, Giving Gifts

Nak believes that actions speak louder than words. If Krueger’s hands are stiff from holding a gun too long she would massage them until they feel better. If Krueger is too tired to wash his hair she’ll do it for him. She doesn’t care if she has to dig a bullet out of his shoulder or do his laundry she just wants to make things easier for him. And it's rewarding to know that he's okay.

Phayvanh is a gift giver, not like anything expensive, or to win favours. She wants to show Krueger she’s paying attention to his interests, that she cares about what his favorite things are. So occasionally she would just walk up the Krueger and like hand him a cool rock she found or his favorite candy bar.

Recieving: Acts of Service, Quality Time

She's going to complain about doing chores or cleaning whatever Nikolai wants her to clean on base before going home. Nak is so used to being on her own she doesnt automatically ask for help. But when Krueger steps in to help out, even if he wasn't asked to, she appreciates it so much. It means more time for them to talk and be together while helping her out.

Nak isn't a "date" type of person. She feels a bit out of place at the idea of going to some fancy restaurant to have small talk. It makes her feel like she's being interrogated. She'd rather just sit with Krueger on the couch eating breakfast as they watch the news in comfortable silence.

KRUEGER

Giving: Physical Touch, Quality Time

I like to believe Krueger shows his affection through actions, just in a different way. He likes showing Nak he cares by just being near her, locking pinkies with her, having their boots touching under the table while they eat. He just had to be touching her in some way; "I wouldn't hold you if I didn't care about you" mindset basically.

Quality time is a big thing for him too I assume, even though he fell for Nak first this was like a whole year of friendship before the initial confession. It's not big dates, just them folding laundry together while cracking jokes is enough.

Recieving: Acts of Service, Words of Affirmation

I think Krueger outside of work is tired often, when he's on the job he's able to just focus on that, not problem, but once he's out of a mission he's just too exhausted to get out of bed. Having Nak be there for him makes him feel like he doesn't have to constantly look his best for her to like him. He can be a gross, stinky, rowdy guy with no judgement. They take care of each other and it gives him piece of mind.

Krueger probably likes words of affirmation to an extent, it's something he didn't get back in Salzburg growing up. He's used to surface level compliments like "I like your hair" or "nice shirt", he doesn't care for them. Having someone as straightforward as Nak say to him something as simple as "That's my man!" Or "Missed you, Baby." He could've sworn his heart skipped a beat.

That's all for today :3 thank you so much for reading!! Hopefully this is readable I tend to ramble Alot and my brain has been fried for a few days xD if you have any questions feel free to ask n such!!

Love Ya Gamergirlbones!!

[therealbigc]

Hey Big C! You still holding up okay after the big Crusty news? The sad music is rarely a good sign :(

You want like a hug or some ice cream or somethin?

...boot up da sopranos on da televison. dat'll make me feel bettah..