#It was Kyle's routine.

[stimtfil]

[frownyalfred]

which of bruce’s partners do u think the wayne’s would like the most? Tbh I think selina … because out of talia, clark, khoa, etc, she’s the Gothamite

Martha Wayne (née Kane) is a true Jewish mother at heart and therefore would not approve of ANYONE for her darling little boy and I will die on this hill.

[s0fter-sin]

still thinking about gaz doing ghost’s skincare

even when they’re on base and the worst of the all-encompassing exhaustion is held at bay, he knows ghost doesn’t have the energy to spare to do any kind of in depth routine; knows as much as it makes him feel good to feel soft and clean and cared for, he won’t be able to keep up with it by himself

gaz just didn't expect how good it would feel to do it for him

how accomplished he'd feel when he figured out the right combination of products to soothe ghost's sensitive neglected skin without him breaking out or getting even more dehydrated, the best moisturiser for his scars, researching no-wash products so he doesn't have to get up once they've started; all ghost has to do is lay back and let gaz work

it's an honour, not only to be trusted enough with ghost's - with simon's - face but also to watch him lose every ounce of tension in his body

they usually - and how amazing that they have a usual, that this has become a routine - end up with ghost's head in his lap, a soft pillow beneath his head so he can just rest. it's not uncommon for him to fall asleep entirely as gaz follows his steps

bottles of cleansers and serums and moisturisers all bought just for him, each one dutifully researched with ghost's skin type in mind, all stored in a black leather bag moulded into a skull bc gaz found it browsing one day and thought it was too perfect. ghost doesn't even know what they all do, just knows how blissful it is to feel the gentle pressure of gaz's fingers massaging his face; following the contours of scars that haven't pulled or flared since they started doing this

gaz never tells him about the rollers he could use instead, the applicators that are technically better for his skin bc it would mean he'd know that gaz uses his hands just for him; that he can feel how much he craves his touch and knows he enjoys it just as much, if not more than the actual results

gaz just tells him that a thorough massage after everything is applied is necessary for all the products to marry up and sink properly into his skin and spends the next half hour smiling down at his superior as he lets go of all his pain and trusts him to keep him afloat

[shittalkerxox]

Roach makes a tiktok rating the signatures the 141 use on their emails;

"Regarding question, please refrain, Lt Riley"

Roach : Very in character for the big man, unfortunately it was in regards to a question of requesting leave so. 4/10.

"Your brother in Christ, Sg Garrick"

Roach : Wonderful form. Made me laugh. Solid score. 7/10

"Stay positive and test negative guys, Sg McTavish"

Roach : Covid jokes are always funny, but he's made this one several times now, and I'm bored of it. 3/10 for fuckery.

"Don't fuck this up you little enabling shits, Cpt Price"

Roach : Hilarious. Our group chat is now titled "little enabling shits" not very professional from the captain. Still 9/10.

"We will discuss more later, SC Laswell."

Roach : Terrifying. Actually, bone chilling. Scared all of us so much. 10/10 for pure fear.

"Eat my ass, Sg Riley xx."

Roach : This one's super old now, but I love it, so it's staying here. 11/10. Gods speed, Si.

[wishfuldivine]

On another note..

Gaz is love.

Gaz is life.

Gaz is everything.

Thank you for coming to my tedtalk!

[pup-pee]

this is basically my kyle playlist

california girls is rlly carrying the angst so sad((she eants me(2 b loved) is not the sadest song ots just the 1st))

[kylegallnerupdate]

Kyle’s Friday gym story 💪🏻🏋️ 3/14/25

[evimencom]

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[3416]

How does one meet Mitch and Auston 😩 there’s some people who have met both and I’m like ahhhh there’s one girl I know on Twitter that has and I’m so happy for her but so insanely jealous how does it feel to be gods favorite 😭

fjkdlsjfklsdjf i honestly have no clue. some people know where to go at certain arenas like. where the buses get in or where the entrances for the players are or where they're staying/leaving from and meet them that way.... some people that live in toronto know the practice rink and will get selfies with them in their cars coming/going from there. i don't know if i'd honestly ever have the guts to do any of that, although i think it'd be fun to have like a vip experience at the games or see an open practice (not sure the leafs do that much). i know the guys come to some of the boxes after depending on who's there/pulling strings but. ANYWAY. sometimes it feels a little less like god's favorite and more just. having prime connections lol

[rawstfish]

Task Force 141 mornings routines:

Price- He wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn, takes a brisk shower, and eats ONLY a protein/granola bar. If there are no protein/granola bars then he'll eat a banana but will be in a bad mood. His whole day is ruined if he doesn't get his bars. Then he's gonna like catch up on paperwork or something to keep him busy until everyone is awake. He has everyone's schedule memorized.

Gaz- Wakes up around 5 or 6 am, and goes to take a quick shower. He likes to have either oatmeal or cereal in the morning. He eats breakfast with Price while they both do paperwork. Around 8 or 9 he'll get up and start his daily exercise, nothing too big though.

Ghost- There are 2 ways his mornings go: either he hasn't slept at all but stayed in the bed, or he went to bed late and wakes up around 9 or 10 am. He eats a huge breakfast/brunch and then immediately goes to work out. He doesn't throw up because he swallows it. After all that he not taking a shower either, he immediately gets to work.

Soap- Always wakes up at exactly 8 am thanks to his 10 alarms. He eats a very good breakfast of like toast, eggs, and whatever breakfast meat is available. He also makes a protein shake or a smoothie, depending on what he's feeling that morning. Then he'll do some light exercises and then take a shower. After this, he'll check in with Price to see how the day is going to be.

Farah- Like Price, she's waking up at the ass-crack of dawn. She likes to get an early start and just check in with everything. This is also her quiet/peaceful time of the day. She'll have a protein/granola bar or some toast while she reads a book. After eating, she goes on a light run just enjoying the view and quiet. Then she'll take a quick shower and begin her work for the day.

Alex- Wakes up around 7 or 8 am, he likes his sleep but knows he has to get up and start the day. Either he'll have cereal and toast or an all-out American breakfast, just depending on the time and how hungry he is. He'll take a shower and then goes to check in with everyone, he likes to know how everyone is doing and what's going on with them. Then he'll join Farah while they do their own separate work.

[chiyana]

Selina would NEVER put Tim's spleen-in-a-jar in the Batcave. That is TIM's spleen, thank you very much, and he would also be much more willing to pay her for it where Bruce would be all "where did you get that", "whose is it", "what do you mean you broke into a League of Assassin's base and stole from Ra's al Ghul", and "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THAT BELONGS TO ONE OF MY SONS".

Terribly ungrateful and unappreciative of her skills, meanwhile Tim would thank her, either pay her cash or trade her a piece of artwork he accidentally stole and kept on the Brucequest, invite her in for some tea and swap art thieving stories.

The batfam playing 2 truths and a lie

Tim: I stalked Batman for years, my eyes are green, and Ra's al Ghul has my spleen in a jar somewhere.

The rest of the batfam:

Dick: ...your eyes are blue.

Damian, muttering to himself: so that was Drake's spleen. Interesting.

[viraltrendsspot]

Kylie Jenner - The Real Cost of Being a Kardashian

Ever wondered what it really costs to keep up with the Kardashians? Let's break down Kylie Jenner's typical day.

[eatloco]

Explore the Best of Purcell Farmers Market

Explore the best of Purcell Farmers Market, where local farmers and artisans gather to offer fresh produce, homemade goods, and handcrafted items. Enjoy the vibrant atmosphere, meet the community, and find unique products that make every visit memorable.

[sigh-tofm]

when they come home drunk…

… price

- thinks it’s important that he loudly tells you he’s married while you steady him upstairs to bed. points to his ring incessantly, slurs on and on about his perfect wonderful wife with the big ass and soft tummy. you roll your eyes and can’t help but smile when he doesn’t let you hold on to his arm to support him. something about protecting his virtue for his wife, as if you’re not standing right beside him. proceeds to lock you out of your own bedroom when you finally get upstairs, telling you his wife will be home soon so he can’t have a strange woman in their bedroom (but still remarks on your wonderful ass). you decide it’s too early in the morning to persuade your drunk husband to let you in, so you go down to sleep on the couch. you wake up with price sleeping soundly on the floor beside you, having gone to find his wife when she never showed up in his bed the night before.

… kyle

- gets sappy and apologises for being away. loses all concept of time when he’s drunk, says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to be away so long, he was thinking of you the whole time, the guys pulled him along and he couldn’t say no. while he’s on his knees at your feet, pressing his face to your thighs and mumbling into your marbled skin, almost making you lose your balance with his fervent apologies, you gently remind him that you were the one who made him go out with the boys because he needed to unwind after a stressful weekend of combat drills, and that he had left with them less than two hours ago. he refuses to hear and only hugs your thighs closer, so much so that you have to support yourself on the wall. turns out all he needed to relax was you.

… johnny

- is horny. almost starts drooling when he eyes you at the top of the stairs, after struggling to close the entrance door for a good minute, causing you to investigate what made all the noise. gets a wild look in his eyes when he sees you in just his t-shirt and makes you scream and giggle as he chases you back up the stairs and to the bedroom. being absolutely shitfaced, he has the coordination of a tranquillised moose and stumbles head over heels across the floor, catches his foot on the doorway and narrowly misses the edge of the dresser with his head as he falls. still, his little soldier is courageously tenting his pants when you worriedly lean over him and he gets a good look right into the collar of your shirt.

… simon

- is emotional and clingy. can’t get enough of you, won’t leave you alone. you can’t make out half his words when he’s had this much to drink (and the mancunian in him breaks out too, making it ever harder to make out the words), but you play along, smile and nod and let him sit on the closed toilet seat and talk and talk while you do your night routine in front of the mirror. so lucky to have you, luv. how could’a lug like me get a pretty one like you, luv. his melancholy statements of love become comfortable background noise for you as you remove your makeup and apply moisturiser. lets you wash the sweat and grime of the day off his face with a washcloth, closes his eyes while you massage your floral-scented moisturiser into his skin, never once stopping his little speech. ambles after you out of the bathroom, holding on to the hem of your shirt, when you’re all finished and ready for bed. his devoted mutters only let up when be falls asleep next to you.

[eileensmith]

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[beloveds-embrace]

(Poly 141 x neighbour!reader: the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach! (Or in your case, the way to four men’s heart is through their stomach))

It started with cookies.

You’d been in the middle of baking a double batch- oatmeal chocolate chip, your personal favorite- and realized halfway through scooping them onto the tray that you’d made far too many for one person. It wasn’t unusual. Baking was how you coped with stress, and ever since you’d moved into this apartment building, stress had been in no short supply.

The guy in 4A had blared music all night. Your hot water barely lasted five minutes. And your smoke detector had developed a habit of chirping at odd hours.

But there was one bright spot- your neighbors in 4C.

You’d seen them coming and going. Tall, broad, and always carrying duffel bags that looked far too heavy to be legal. They kept odd hours, too, but never caused trouble. One of them- Johnny, you’d learned later- had even held the door open for you when your arms were full of groceries.

Which was why you’d stood outside their door that evening, balancing a plate of cookies and feeling like an idiot as you knocked.

Not-Johnny had answered first, blinking down at you in surprise, though his smile was warm and he was beautiful. You couldn’t blame him; you had barely spoken to them more than a few short words.

“Uh… hi?”

“Hi.” You forced a smile. “I’m your neighbor from 4B. I, uh… made too many cookies?”

His eyes dropped to the plate immediately, and you swore you saw something primal flicker behind them. Still, you worried.

“I mean, if you don’t want-”

“No! No, we want. Come in- Johnny! Get over here!”

And that was how it started.

The second time had been lasagna.

You’d just finished assembling it when you realized- again- that you’d made too much. So, after psyching yourself up for ten minutes, you’d knocked on their door for the second time in as many weeks.

Price, who had introduced himself along wuth Simon the day you dropped off the cookies, had answered that time, his expression guarded until he saw the foil-covered pan in your hands.

“You’re joking,” he’d said, but when you started to retreat, he’d stopped you with a firm, but gentle hand on your back. He had such a nice, big hand. “Don’t be ridiculous, lovie. Get in here.”

That night, you’d sat at their table, sharing stories and laughter while they cleaned the dish down to the last crumb.

After that, it became routine.

You started “testing recipes,” and they became your eager guinea pigs.

And they never seemed to mind.

And now…

The smell hit first- roasted garlic, browned butter, and something rich simmering low and slow. It snuck out from the slightly cracked kitchen window and spilled into the shared hallway of the apartment building. For men used to MREs and takeout, it was practically siren song.

Gaz was the first to notice, lingering just outside the door labeled 4B- your door- with an almost predatory focus. He wasn’t proud of it, but his stomach growled so loud that Soap- rounding the corner with a gym bag slung over his shoulder- laughed outright.

“You stalking the neighbor again?”

“Shut up. You smell that?”

Soap inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered shut for a beat before snapping open.

“Jesus wept- what is that?!”

“I don’t know, but I’m this close to knocking.” Kyle held up his fingers, barely an inch apart.

“She already fed us last week, mate. Dinna push it.”

“But what if she’s testing another recipe?”

Gaz wasn’t wrong. You had a habit of showing up at their door with dishes too good to refuse.

They hadn’t stood a chance.

After the cookies and the lasagna, it wasn’t long before other dishes followed: casseroles, soups, pies, and even homemade bread. And the worst part? You bow always prefaced it by saying you needed an opinion- like they were doing you the favor.

It wasn’t until Price called you a “bloody saint” over a pan of enchiladas that Ghost finally put it together.

“You’re using us as taste testers,” he’d said flatly.

You’d grinned- too cute and too smug for your own good. “Is that a problem?”

Not a single one of them had said no, just as stated before.

Which led them here, hovering outside your door and pretending they weren’t waiting for another offering.

“… Fine.” Soap muttered, raising his hand to knock.

But the door swung open before he could, and there you were- apron on, hair pulled back, and flour dusted across your cheek.

“Hi!” You chirped, eyes bright. “Perfect timing!”

Gaz’s grin was pure relief. “Tell me you need opinions. Please, love.”

You laughed, stepping aside to let them in. “I always need opinions. Come in!”

Inside, the kitchen was chaos. Cutting boards and mixing bowls were scattered across the counters. A Dutch oven bubbled on the stove, releasing clouds of savory steam. Plates of food- half-assembled sandwiches, stuffed peppers, and what looked like chocolate tarts- sat waiting.

“I… might’ve gone overboard.” You admitted, and if you hadn’t spent all day in the kitchen, your cheeks would’ve gone warmer.

Soap whistled low, eyes raking over every dish. “Not complainin’.”

Price arrived just then, texted by Kyle, trailed closely by Simon, who took one look at the spread and froze. His eyes swept from the roasted chicken resting under a blanket of fresh herbs to the still-warm biscuits stacked beside a bowl of honey butter.

“What’s the occasion?” John asked, smile amused, but you just waved him off.

“Practicing.”

Gaz was already halfway to the table, trying to decide what to start with, but Simon lingered, watching you carefully. He had his balaclava on, though you haven’t yet dared to ask why he wears it.

“Practicing for what, exactly?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your apron. “There’s this… thing next week. A community bake-off. And I thought it might be fun to enter.”

Soap arched a brow. “You’re entering this in a bake-off?”

“Well, not all of it. I’m still deciding which dishes to use.”

“You’re winning.” Kyle said immediately, filling his plate.

“Definitely.” Johnny added, already reaching for a sandwich.

Simon, still lingering, crossed his arms and stared down at you. His height will never, ever not make your breath hitch. “You’re testing all of this on us?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, pouting just a little. “You don’t mind, do you, Simon?”

His gaze darkened- not in anger, but something softer, heavier. It made your stomach flip.

“No,” he said simply. “We don’t mind.”

You swallowed and turned quickly to the oven to hide the heat rushing to your cheeks.

The next hour passed in a blur of taste testing, arguments over which dish was best, and repeated assurances that you were going to “blow the competition out of the water.” But beneath the laughter and teasing, you failed to catch the way they looked at you- how Price lingered by the stove just to steal extra bites, or how Johnny kept offering to help, hovering close enough that you brushed elbows more than once.

And Simon? He was the worst of all. He didn’t say much, but his eyes tracked your every move, following the way your hands worked the dough or wiped flour off the counter. He was the last to leave, hanging back as the others helped clear plates.

“You’re serious about this bake-off?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “Thought it might be fun.”

“You don’t need it.”

“… What?”

He gestured at the now-empty plates. “To prove anything, I mean. You’re already…” He trailed off for a few seconds, and though you were left blinking at him, you didn’t rush him. “Good enough.” he murmured at last.

The compliment hit harder than you expected, and for once, you didn’t have a clever response.

“Thank you, Simon. That… means a lot to me.” you said softly.

And just like that, the others reappeared, breaking the moment. Johnny patted Simon’s shoulder with a knowing smirk, and Kyle slung an arm around your shoulders, while Price merely watched. Your kitchen was now spotless, cleaned by them.

“When’s the next test run?” Gaz asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Well, let us know. We’re free anytime.”

“Yeah,” Soap added. “Anytime.”

You laughed but this time, you didn’t miss the way Price was looking at you- thoughtful, like he’d already made up his mind about something.

The door clicked shut behind them after that, leaving your apartment quieter but no less warm. The scent of roasted garlic and herbs still lingered, and you found yourself smiling as you surveyed the spotless kitchen. They’d made quick work of the mess, trading jokes and lighthearted jabs as they wiped down counters and stacked dishes in quite the uniform style.

You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve neighbors like them, but you weren’t about to question it.

You caught yourself humming as you tucked away the last plate, the sound of their laughter still echoing faintly in your ears. It was easy with them- comfortable in a way that felt rare and almost too good to be true.

And maybe it was.

Because what you didn’t know- what you would probably never know, such a sweet and trusting thing- was that your apartment had been wired within days of your first visit to their door.

To them, it had started with a conversation.

“She’s alone,” Price had said after the second time you’d brought them food, leaning back in his chair with a contemplative frown. “No sign of anyone else coming or going.”

“Security’s shite.” Gaz had added, gesturing vaguely toward the shared hallway where your lock barely functioned half the time.

Soap had shrugged, easygoing as ever, but his eyes had been sharp. “Better us keep an eye on her than let some arsehole get the chance.”

And that was that.

Price had ordered the equipment, Ghost had handled the installation, and none of them had lost sleep over it. Not when it meant keeping you safe.

It wasn’t just the cameras, either.

Simon had reinforced your locks under the guise of “fixing” them after you mentioned a struggle with your key. Johnny had talked you into letting him check your windows “just to be sure they latched properly.” Gaz had set up an app on your phone to “monitor deliveries,” though it also let them track your location if needed.

And Price? He always lingered at the door just long enough to ask if you needed anything else- subtle, but enough to make sure you knew they were there.

You never questioned it. Never noticed the way they moved like a unit around you, anticipating problems before they could arise. Never caught the glances they exchanged when you mentioned a repairman or the way Simon hovered near the window any time a car idled too long outside.

You just kept feeding them, trusting them in ways that only made their resolve deepen.

Price was the worst.

He’d leaned against the counter tonight, watching you laugh at Johnny’s jokes and swat at Kyle when he tried to sneak extra bites, and the thought had hit him harder than he expected, while Simon watched on in amusement and was the only to successfully swipe a few more bites.

They could’ve had this already.

If life had gone differently- if timing had been better- you could’ve been his. Theirs. Someone to come home to instead of just someone they visited between deployments.

He hadn’t said anything, of course. None of them had.

But as they left, he’d lingered in the doorway, letting his hand rest lightly against the frame.

“Don’t let ‘em eat it all before the bake-off,” he’d teased, lips curling into a smile. “They’ll start begging if you do.”

You’d laughed, and God, it was dangerous how much he liked the sound.

“I’ll make sure to keep them in line.”

His smile softened. “Good girl.”

You didn’t notice the way Simon shot him a sharp look at that- or the way Johnny and Kyle exchanged knowing grins.

And later, when Price sat down in front of the monitors to check the feeds, he didn’t let himself feel guilty.

Because you were safe.

And as far as they were concerned, that was all that mattered.