#but yes i want to explore it further

[quynhorlose]

if you wouldn’t mind, can u tell us more about the mute regulus aspect of the fic?

yes gladly!! (i assume this is about what i teased a whiiiile ago lmao)

so, i do this thing that a lot of fic writers do where i tend to project onto characters. with sirius, the plant thing and with mary, my struggles with religion (you’ll see this one soon). with regulus, well.

i see myself in him a lot more than i think either of us would like 😭 i’m a younger sibling (and adopted to boot) and i struggled with a lot of the things he has. so when it came to trying to piece him together in this upcoming fic… i’ve had selective mutism since i was a very small child. it’s part of the second half of fight/flight that we don’t talk about enough. fight, fight, fawn and freeze.

i think all four of them get a bad rap; fight is misunderstood as recklessness, flight is misunderstood as cowardice, fawn as compliance and freeze as incompetence.

but really, it’s just. it’s the body’s way of protecting itself. clamming up. disassociation, in a way.

for a long time, it was just me floating through my own life like a ghost. and i think with regulus, being that younger child with such a loud sibling in such a quiet house and witnessing the things he witnessed—it’s not impossible for me to see where he may have slipped into the instinct in the same way i did.

we talk about survival instinct a lot when we talk about sirius and regulus. it’s really easy to pin sirius down as flight and fight. regulus, i think, embodies both fawn and freeze for a large part of his journey. i think it’s really important that as we recognize the path that he took, we recognize other damage it might have done. other ways to cope.

i also see regulus as an observer! i think he’s got a way of reading people that sirius/others may not. and that’s something that grows from just. watching. i’ve got hints at this throughout the growth fic:

but beyond the fact that regulus doesn’t waste words, isn’t chatty, etc., i think the idea of him living without them at all for a time is worth exploring. especially if it means getting to process my own growing up through the magic of fic.

though this one won’t be out for a while! i’ve still got the band fic, bike fic and breakdown fic to get through.

[lordichamo]

Artist's process

[snowyh2o]

The question isn’t about whether or not Alastor cares or if he’s actually attached. The question is, is that attachment he has stronger than his desire to go through with his plans.

[devilbeez]

Okay I love hazbin hotel, I really do. I love the characters, I love the song. But I’m willing to admit that it have flaws and one of it being the pacing.

And ngl I think I found out why and it’s because numerous reason

Production. When Hazbin got confirmed for season 1 for all we could know the team only know that they get 8 episodes and that’s it. They don’t know about season 2 yet so either they got confirmed for season 2 when season 1 already out into work to the point there no fixing the script, or season 1 is don’t in production stage going to post when season 2 is confirmed. Giving benefit of the doubt there’s a certain panic to explain everything to the fandom so it’s just plot point after plot point being stuffed in one season without time to breathe.

Episode. This involved with the previous reason because if you happen to live under a rock, for some reason there seem to be a trend in shorten episodes seasons. It went from 26-25 to 12-15 and now less than 10. There’s not enough time to develop a character to the fullest. It seem rush because with the pressure from fandom and the uncertainty of confirmed seasons.

Lastly, it written like a musical but have TV show concepts. I feel like this is most confusing and might just be me so lemme explain. Hazbin hotel from ep 1 to 6 feel like a one whole musical where they kinda have to rush it a little? Cause musicals usually have 2 Maybe 3 hours and 40-50% of it are songs so you have to rush throughout the dialogue a little bit and let songs expressed the characters the most. I feel like this is what the show been doing, it rush through the dialogue and development to throw all the emotions we supposed to feel in songs and don’t get me wrong if it have one theme, one major problem like a musical it would work. However, Hazbin have all these problems, heaven forces, Lilith and Alastor sudden disappearance, the Vees, Angel’s arc, Charlie’s arc etc etc it all isn’t a minor problems like “oh these kids wanna be respected and accepted as they are” in School of rock or “this demigod lost his mojo” like in Moana. These problems are all main problem worthy and most of the time tv series have time to deal with this. Maybe one season address one of those problems, maybe one season have 2 main problems for first and later half. And so when you have musical writing with mostly songs where you need to have concise story but instead have tv series concept with multiple arcs what you get is a story that feel rush

This have been my tedtalk

[thewhizzyhead]

I know the reunion concert was literally just 2 days ago but my bros my guys my dudes I miss WATT so so much and I really do want this show Actually Revived because I miss my cheerleaders, pma's stories and music are fucking great and I wanna hear more, watt has so much room for improvement, and I wanna see watt thrive aaaaaaaa

[teasel-backatitagain]

Thinking about her (Karina Braun)

[starlooove]

My fave thing about my vs is subtly changing them to look more and dress more like Johnny over time - give em a day where they go back to their og styles as like a push against it - and then have them settle in more

[pynkhues]

"I honestly think both in terms of fic for the show itself and for RPF, it's about race"

Ah, I wasn't expecting this, which as a brown woman is incredibly naive of me.

There's currently discourse on X about Louis being the most "boring" character which is also, undoubtedly, driven by racism.

(x)

Oh, I'm really sorry, anon, and you shouldn't feel naive. I mean, for starters, I could be wrong, and I'm being pretty speculative, but even if I'm right, the onerous of that isn't, or at least shouldn't be, on you. I think there's a lot of really great progressive things that happen in fandom, but at the same time fandom is created by People Living in Societies, and unfortunately biases and discrimination, at least in my experience, can and do seep through in ways that are both toxic and just flat out negligent.

The idea of Louis being boring is absolutely an insane and racist rhetoric too. He is so wildly interesting as a character, with so many layers of storytelling and nuance and contradiction, which I adore in him, and it makes me wonder if the people who find him boring are the same ones who want to make him the audience insert (insane given Daniel is literally right there) or to project all this 'battered housewife' narrative onto him, which - - look.

I've tried to shrug this off, but I literally just spent the entire day at a symposium on how the Australian government child support system is weaponised by abusive men against women post-divorce, so I'm a bit of a raw nerve about this topic, but it's made me even more pissed off at the Louis-Housewife arguments than normal.

Not only is it diminishing and completely at odds with his character, but what a way to show you've never, ever engaged with real survivors of, or conversations with, patriarchal oppression.

[widevibratobitch]

Red Pill Misogyny But Make It Funny: The Opera my beloved <333

[kakusboyfriend]

Not to get too #deep but revisiting arlong park I forgot the very first human we see interacting with them thinks they're repulsive but tolerable since they pay well. I hate hate hate fantasy racism with a passion but it's easy to tell the world is Not kind to them and sees them as lesser

[fayevalcntine]

I wonder how they'll handle Claudia's relationship with her own physique in season 2 cause some of the hints I've seen so far tell me it may be a theme. The baby doll blue dress on stage (and when she meets Madeleine) vs the red Carmen dress in one of the posters? How exactly will the coven take to her? Will they accept her for the adult that she is or thrust her into the role of vampire child? Even Louis' somewhat assured/defensive comment of "She's managed through it", when we very well know that she did confront him on his decision to have her turned without considering what the consequences would be for her. He can reassure himself that she may manage 'just fine' with it, but I'm not so sure if that's the case from Claudia's perspective.

[frankensteincest]

idk what’s going to happen with a resurrected Brona Croft but from what was shown of Frankenstein beginning the process, he uses her entire body. I think he did the same for Caliban and Proteus, and the stitches on their head is just him jump starting the brains. which is a shame bc book!Frankenstein assembling his Creature from assorted parts from various bodies + Proteus gaining random memories and habits from his received brain but possibly a different personality was where the story was. for me

[crypt1dcorv1dae]

raven with a distinct, but unplaceable accent. dure it may sound *similar* to this or that, but its not quite anything anyone has heard before...

[primsycoldbottles]

i remember hating godot when i first played aa and then later after a year or two being like Hmm maybe hes not as bad as i remember... but now that im replaying it i can confirm he is Bad

[gloomwitchwrites]

secret baby trope with tf141? 😌😌

Anon! OH. MY. GOOOOOD. I love this. I love this. I love this. Secret baby? Yes, please. I adore this trope. I bow down to you for requesting this. I don't know who you are but I wish that I did. I can absolutely get behind a secret baby trope. I actually read a book recently that was a bit like that and I enjoyed it so so much.

I had an absolute blast putting this one together. Seriously. You totally indulged me here. Thank you!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, stalking, possessive behavior, second chances, pregnancy / unplanned pregnancy, parenthood, reunions, light angst

Word Count: 2.3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle relaxes further into the couch. The air around him is slightly smoky.

He brings his vape to his lips and takes a hit. The action is calming, and that’s exactly what he wants. Kyle is rotting, and it feels fucking good.

Between missions, Kyle is always somewhere, but right not there is no reason for him to do anything. He can relax. He can watch reality television, eat himself to sickness, and wank off until his wrist hurts.

It’s bloody fucking brilliant.

Kyle isn’t attached. He has no kids. The only responsibility required of him is the one he has to himself. Which is why he’s splayed out on the couch in nothing but grey sweatpants and his vape. The television is on, and the volume is low. It’s mostly for background noise. Kyle isn’t really paying attention to it.

With a vape in one hand and his phone in the other, Kyle scrolls through his contacts. There are all the usual people there, but there are also a slew of general acquaintances and a long list of people he’s had it off with but never took anything further.

He pauses at one name, and old memories resurface.

They just happen upon him. Kyle doesn’t drag them up from the depths. They linger there, and Kyle remembers all the fun he had with you.

You were just a small fling. A few lengthy but deliciously good fucks that tops most of the sex he’s ever had in his life. There have been times since he last saw you—over a year now—that Kyle has thought about what could have been.

You were sweet. A potential partner. But Kyle didn’t follow through. He would regret it, but things can’t be taken back. There is no turning back the clock to change what has already occurred.

Kyle’s thumb hovers above the screen.

He shouldn’t. He really fucking shouldn’t.

But he does. Because why not?

Switching over apps, Kyle starts scrolling social media. He doesn’t usually give a shit about what’s happening in people’s lives, but he is curious about you. What are you up to? What are you doing? If you’re not attached, maybe he could call you up, rekindle what was once there.

You don’t have him blocked on anything—thank fuck—and Kyle delves into your socials, exploring your life. At first, the small infant in your arms is nothing to him, but then the tiny human keeps reappearing, and Kyle pauses.

Kyle scrolls a bit more. And stops.

Just three—no—four months ago, there are a slew of friends and family congratulating you on the birth of your son.

Your…son.

Kyle thinks back. Does the math in his head.

“Fuck,” he mutters, sitting up, gaze glued on the screen.

He scrolls back, studying every photo where your son is featured. Kyle’s heart slams in his chest. The features Kyle sees are features he sees every time he looks in the mirror.

“Fucking hell,” groans Kyle, the phone nearly slipping from his hands as he slumps back against the couch.

Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you contact him?

The very thought of you not reaching out doesn’t sit well with him. It sits heavy in his stomach.

“Fuck,” says Kyle, switching over to his contacts.

He finds Simon’s number and taps the call button.

It rings on the other end, and Kyle doesn’t think that he’ll answer. But he does.

“Kyle,” comes Simon’s gruff voice.

Kyle sighs. “I need you to track someone down for me.”

John Price

John doesn’t like cutting off contact with people.

He likes to keep in touch, even if it’s just an acquaintance. But things happen, like a fucked phone with no way to retrieve contacts, and the only people he’s able to retrieve are those he sees on a regular basis.

Your number is gone. And John has no way to get it back.

Legally that is. He could try and find you in the system. What information he has is minimal, but then again, the two of you only had a one-night stand. He’s prone to it since he’s never in one place. Always moving around.

John would like to settle down one day, but his work is his life, and it just doesn’t seem possible to have a family and be consistent with them when he’s constantly called away.

He chews it over while sitting in his office. It’s late, and there isn’t anyone else here but him. Late nights like this are calming to him—a time to process away from the events of the day. John has your first name, where you might live, and a general idea of what your number is. But he isn’t certain, and it’s hardly enough to go on.

Sighing, deciding he’d rather find you than not, John turns on his computer. It takes a while to get the classified systems he has access to. No one tracks what he does on here, and no one will think twice if they do happen to look. John runs lots of names and faces through this system.

John waits. Ponders. Enters in different spellings and every possible clue to try and seek you out. With every new search, John begins to lose hope. He might be completely fucked. Completely at a loss.

If this doesn’t work, he might not ever see you again. And for some goddamn reason, that bothers him.

He tries one last time, expecting nothing, only for his heart to drop into his stomach,

“There you are,” he murmurs, leaning forward, gaze sweeping over your passport photo.

Grabbing a piece of paper, John jots down your phone number and current address. He also notes your top place of employment. You might not be there anymore, but that isn’t an issue. He has enough.

John shuts off his computer and grabs his coat. He’ll try to reach out first by phone and go from there.

“You have the wrong number, bud.”

The man’s southern drawl irks John. “You sure?”

“Yeah I’m fucking sure. Quit calling.”

John frowns as the line goes dead. The number on file isn’t recent.

“Fuck,” mutters John, running his hand through his hair.

This is getting him nowhere. The only other option is showing up at your home or place of employment, but he can’t do that unless he’s on scheduled leave. That’s months away.

And each month is fucking agony.

When John finally makes it to your front door, nervousness sets in. This is completely fucking weird. Who the fuck shows up at someone’s door months after a one-night stand? Him apparently.

But fuck it. He’s here.

Either he does this and things go great, or things go to shit and he doesn’t need to worry about it anymore.

John takes a deep breath, and then pounds on the door. He takes a step back, hands in his pockets as he waits. There is a stretch of silence, and then he hears it—the turn of a deadbolt.

The door swings open, and there you are, just as beautiful from when he first saw you. At first, your brow scrunches in confusion, and then your eyes widen.

“John,” you breathe.

He smiles, and then his gaze drops as your hand moves away from the doorknob to land on your stomach. Your belly is round. Protruding. You’re—oh shit.

“Is that—”

“Yours?”

Fuck.

John glances up into your eyes and swallows.

You shift on your feet, one hand resting against the doorframe.

“It is,” you confirm.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shouldn’t. Really—it’s fucked up. Wrong.

But he does it anyway because there is no fucking way he’s letting you go even if he has to watch from afar.

He’s done a lot of things he isn’t proud of, and losing you is near the top of the list. Not that he blames you for breaking it off. You had every right. Simon is always gone. Always away. And he rarely thought of you when he came home.

Communication can be a difficult thing for him. He knows this, and yet he couldn’t make an effort to do better with you. It wounds him. It does. Like a sharp blade to the gut.

But that is secondary now. Simon has dismissed it.

Sure, you’re not truly his now, but you’ll come back to him. He’ll make sure of it.

In the dark, Simon watches. Before him is a slew of screens and all of them show different angles of your home. Simon also has your phone tapped, and in another window, he can lurk through your messages and emails.

It’s where he first learned you were pregnant.

You know, and haven’t told him. Haven’t reached out in the slightest. Simon has to see all the results and tests come back via your email. He has to log into your medical portal to access specific things which is goddamn frustrating but he needs to know.

You are fucking pregnant. With his child.

It’s growing in your belly.

Even through the camera feed, Simon can see the swell of your stomach. He wants to be there, to stand beside you, and rest his hand against it. He wants to feel his son kick. Because you are carrying his son in your belly. Simon saw the results.

It’s fucking painful watching you like this.

He’s stayed away for a bit. Not engaging.

But you’ve broken it off before, and came back eventually.

Simon just needs an in again. All he has to do is figure it out, and then he can put away these fucking screens and surveillance. He can be by your side and be there when you give birth.

Leaning back in his chair, Simon observes every screen, his palm rubbing against his thigh as he considered his options.

He has to play this right.

He has to.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Do you think you’ll ever find your woman again?”

Johnny grins behind his pint glass. “If she’s here,” he replies.

The beer is perfectly cold and goes down easily. It’s refreshing since it’s so bloody hot outside.

Johnny didn’t think he’d ever come back to the little seaside town. He came between missions—a way to relax and get away for a bit. With only a few hundred residents, it seemed like the perfect place. What he didn’t expect was to meet a woman that upended his fatigue and made him glow a little brighter.

He learned your name while exploring a local pub. You were a pretty thing. Caught Johnny’s eye immediately. With several beers fueling him, Johnny struck up a conversation, and you were receptive to his charm—melting like butter over fresh toast.

That evening, the two of you jumped from pub to pub, having a bloody good time. It was fucking magical. Afterward, the two of you ventured back to Johnny’s hotel room. But the two of you didn’t have sex. It wasn’t until the next morning that Johnny actually fucked you.

Johnny had presented himself, you slid right into his arms. The hotel bed was well-used. There wasn’t a moment after that Johnny didn’t have his dick inside you. He kept you full and screaming his name for an entire fucking week.

But when that week was up, the two of you parted ways. You gave Johnny your number, and for a couple months, you were consistent in your texts and phone calls. Then it all changed, and you began to contact him less frequently.

Eventually, you didn’t talk to Johnny at all.

He was hurt at first. He tried to reach out. But Johnny didn’t hear a thing—and he left you to it. Maybe someone else arrived into your life. Johnny can respect that even if he doesn’t exactly like it.

It sucked then. And it still pains him a bit now. Johnny liked you when you left—and if he’s being entirely honest with himself—he still fucking likes you.

Maybe you’ll be here. Maybe you won’t.

Kyle is with him this time. A guy’s trip. Price isn’t one for vacations, and Simon has his own shit going on.

“We could try that pub again,” suggests Kyle. “See if she’s there.”

Johnny shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Did she live here?” asks Kyle.

Johnny nods. “Aye. Sure did.”

Kyle bobs his head. “We’ll find her.”

The two of them sit outside a small pub. The air is laced with salt from the ocean, and the sun is out, shining bright. It’s hot, but it’s a beautiful fucking day.

Johnny hums in agreement, bringing his pint glass back to his lips. For a moment, Johnny glances away from Kyle, looking out across the road where people walk along the pavement. He frowns.

Is that?

No. Can’t be.

His focus becomes a tunnel, and all he can see is the woman across the road. It’s you. There is no doubt. He knows that body, that hair and smile. You haven’t changed all that much. Not really.

There is another woman with you—a friend that Johnny met briefly before you and him went off on your own.

But that isn’t what has Johnny’s attention.

You’ve turned, and Johnny can see a swell to your stomach. Your hand cradles it affectionately.

“What is it?” asks Kyle, but his voice is distant.

“That’s her,” murmurs Johnny, his pint glass lowering back to the table.

You don’t see him. You’re chatting with your friend, features animated. The curve in your stomach is fairly large, and a deep twisting in his stomach arises, moving toward his throat.

“Oh fuck,” says Johnny as Kyle shifts to look in the direction Johnny is staring.

“Is that?”

“It fucking is.”

“She’s fucking pregnant.”

Johnny swallows. “Aye.”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s likely the fucking truth. The baby is probably his. No wonder you stopped talking to him. Maybe you thought it best to cut off contact when you found out.

But that doesn’t sit right with him either. If you had told him, Johnny could have been there for you sooner—not finding out like this.

You throw your head back and laugh, playfully hitting your friend’s arm as she says something funny. When you wipe at your face, clearing tears, your gaze shifts, and all the humor leaves your face.

You’re staring right at Johnny.

And he’s staring back.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @greeniegreengreen @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@whisperwispxx @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @arrozyfrijoles23

[evanbibuckley]

Article

I really love the connection between these two and how it's portrayed that Bobby really understands and cares for Eddie