#This one is a little sad

[brokenpieces-72]

Taskforce 141!ganster au x reader

Old Bed

This is part 5. Leave a comment if you want to be tagged in future posts. Navigation

The air is tense and well no shit. You weren’t expecting the hideout Kyle would take you to, would be the same one Simon and Johnny would be at. Before anyone could say anything else, Simon told you to follow him and take your shoes off first. You took off your shoes and set them aside before following him into a small hallway. Johnny kept an eye on you while you followed his boss. Gaz pat him on the back as he made his way to the couch.

“Set your stuff in the room there. Come back out, I’ll get you a drink.” He says walking away before you could reply. You step into the room, and find a small simple bedroom. Everything is neat, and you notice a photo on the nightstand next to the twin bed. You recognize it. It’s a photo of you and your father when you were younger. Was this your dad’s room at one point? There were a couple of times when your father didn’t come home until the early hours of the morning. You guessed maybe he stayed here for a bit. Something about the room, even with it being so plain made you feel safe. Like he was sitting with you on the bed, watching you going through your stuff. You pulled out a different hoodie, taking off your current one leaving it inside the jacket. You laid it on the bed, and looked at the mirror hanging on the wall by the small closet. Your arms were cover in bruises, that were easily visible with you in your tank top. The swelling in your eyes had gone down. Moving your arms, there was some pain but it was mainly just soreness. Nothing broken thankfully.

You come back out with your other hoodie and your beanie pulled down closer to your eye. You didn’t want to make a fuss. You find Kyle in a t-shirt and jeans, his jacket on the couch armrest. Simon notices you and jerks his head toward the group, gesturing you to join them. You notice Simon’s mask is over his nose and mouth, wearing lounge pants and long sleeved shirt. Soap takes another shot at the table, cursing under his breath, and leaning against his cue. Ripped jeans, and hoodie, making him less intimidating than he usually is. Not by much though. You step closer to the table but keep your hands in your pockets.

Ghost takes a shot himself, letting the silence remain and the tension grow. Gaz just stays on the couch watching you and Soap. Price told him shit was tense, but damn.

“You play?” Kyle asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Some. I’m okay at it.” You mumble just loud enough for him to understand.

“Liar.” Soap comments under his breath, taking a shot. Another sunk, only two other’s remaining and the 8. You go very quiet, letting the label sting. Kyle gives Soap a look of annoyance.

“He’s right. They’re better than okay.” Ghost says, leaning over and just missing the pocket making his ball bounce off into a worse position. “Better than Soap.”

“No less a liar.” You comment to yourself.

“You’re not a liar.” Soap says almost begrudgingly, walking around the table for a better angle. You look at him as he takes the shot and misses his ball.

“You sai-“

“I know what I said. You never lied though.” He says stepping back and standing next to you. “Secrets and lies… you never said you weren’ a cop. We knew your da and we guessed… just didna wanna be right.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say in response. He was right, but the guilt remained. You felt he was owed at least that much.

“Oi love birds, quit the sap. Y/n mind making this shit for me.” Ghost says offering the cue. You take it, trying to think of it as how it was when you first got close to Soap. When you lean down ready to take the shot though, you wince. You try to hide it by shifting your position but that makes it worse. When you take the shot, you get it in the pocket but something in your shoulder audibly pops making you flinch.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny asks.

“Nothing, just sore.” You say brushing it off.

“Some cops jumped em.” Kyle mentions, while Ghost sinks the 8 ball. Johnny says something in Scottish, you can’t quite make out.

“I’m fine.” You say. Johnny takes off your beanie without warning.

“Sit on the couch, I’ll get you some painkillers.” Johnny says leaning the cue against the table. He sounds like a disappointed older brother. You sit on the couch next to Gaz. It’s surprisingly comfortable, and you feel some cracking from your bones. Good cracking. You can’t explain it but once again, you feel safe and relaxed. More safe than you’ve felt in your own apartment by yourself. Johnny gives you the painkiller.

“Why they turn?” Johnny asks leaning back against the pool table standing in front of you.

“Told them I wanted to be left alone. Hadn’t shown up for sometime, hadn’t done much for a week. They decided that maybe kicking my ass would bring you guys running to help me. Prove my worth to you guys. Just kept telling them to fuck off. That wasn’t enough.” You explain, taking the painkiller.

“Give us names, we’ll slash their tires.” Kyle offers.

“Pfft, not as much fun.” Johnny adds. “I say we just do what they did to Y/N.”

“And puts Y/N at risk. Right now, the police think they’re on the side of the law. Gaz you mentioned Graves coming out of their apartment?” Ghost asks, folding his arms and looking at Gaz. Gaz nods. You didn’t love Graves but the last thing you wanted was for him to get caught with the wrong people. The 141 guys were the right people for you, but not for Graves.

“He’s my dad’s friend.” You say quickly. “Checks up on me. I report to him.”

“You tell him anything about us?” Johnny asks. He gives you a hard serious look.

“No. Nothing incriminating.” You say.

“What did he say when you came in with all the bruises?” Gaz asks.

“Asked me what happened… sounded like he was worried but I don’t know.” You explain. They’re silent now, trying to figure out if Graves had something to do with it. They all knew Graves, the kind of man he was. Graves wasn’t a shit cop, but he wasn’t exactly clean either. Your father and Graves were partners, and in the force that meant something. But that night…

“Just told me to text him when I got somewhere safe. Told him I would stay the night somewhere else.” You say breaking the hard silence. “I texted him earlier when we parked, location is turned off.”

“Good. You best rest up, it’ll help you recover.” Ghost says. You don’t argue and get up going to your room.

The remaining three are quiet for a moment, not making eye contact, not talking, and hardly even moving. The night your father died, Graves was there. For a while they thought Graves might have done his partner in, but if so, why was he so hard on you. Why put you in the same place your father had been, and so close to himself? Graves was a hard ass but not cruel. They could all attest to that. Even Soap who’d been shot by him. For now only time would tell, but with the cops being more persistent, and more sketchy shit going on behind closed doors, something was up.

Laswell called Price that same night. He had just gotten home from the bar, and sat down to relax with some football.

“Turn on the news.” She ordered him.

“Why?” He asked, getting the remote anyways. When he turned on the tv his question was answered.

“No fucking way…” he muttered into the phone.

“We’ve got a big problem John.” Laswell comments watching the same news broadcast.

“Yeah, well… no shit.” Price replies.

The tv announced the return of the successful businessman and new chief police commissioner:

Vladimir Makarov.

@yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @H0n3y_L3m0n @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz

[enjoythesilentworld]

Wille's Month - Soulmate

day 18 @youngroyals-events

Wille, crossfaded and face down on the football field, realizes some things.

Or, Wille sees his and Simon's lives laid out, intertwining across every universe.

read below or on ao3. (T, 800) cw: substance abuse

Wille can’t move. Well, he could move, he just doesn’t really want to. Despite the cold wetness pressed against his cheek and the grittiness in his mouth, he’s quite comfortable. No bed at a fancy palace could ever compare to this. Not even the bright lights in his half-open eyes bother him. His body feels light and wavy. If he shuts his eyes fully, though, things start to spin. That isn’t as comfortable, so he keeps them partially open, slowly blinking against the cold mist. 

There is a familiar smell about the place he can’t put his finger on. Has he been here before? 

Where is here?

The pointer finger on his right hand twitches. He remembers. He is on grass. No, not grass. Turf. He rolls onto his side and drags a hand through the damp plastic. The lingering rain is probably soaking through his clothes, too. His mamma would be so mad, if she saw him like this. The thought makes him giggle. 

Imagine the headlines, Mamma. 

I’m sorry I can’t be him. 

He doesn’t want to think about that anymore. He is tired. To make sure he still can, he brings both hands to his face and presses his palms into his eyes, inhaling deeply, then letting out the breath in a loud hum. He is so tired. 

A light flickers. He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, letting his hands fall back to the ground again. 

He starts to drift. It’s a calm feeling. Distorted colors begin to dance across the backs of his eyelids. Warm purples and reds, then browns and greens. Shapes begin to form, too. The outline of a person, a building, a piano. 

Simon is there, suddenly, in his mind. He looks different, though. Older. He smiles at Wille then grabs his hand, pulling him through a book shop. Wille feels warm and happy. They’ve been here before, this is a favorite place of theirs. Simon wants to see if they have a new book in stock. They’ve just come from breakfast together. They are happy.

The image flickers. 

Simon is still there, but different again. He looks down at Wille from a stage, though he doesn’t know Wille, yet. Wille doesn’t know him either, just likes his music, but wants to know more. They find each other after the concert. Simon is flirty and forward and they quickly fall into each other. 

That Simon disappears, too, then changes into another. 

This Simon is younger, much younger, as is Wille. They’re both five and playing in a park. Wille tumbles off the slide and Simon offers a hand to help him up. They spend the rest of the day playing together, chasing each other around the playground and laughing until Wille’s mother pulls him away. 

Now, Simon looks across a table at Wille with teary eyes, boxes scattered around them. He whispers, I’m sorry, and sounds so broken and Wille wants to jump across the table at him, to beg him to stay, but he can’t. They had their time together and it was good and worth it, but it just couldn’t work anymore. 

Another Simon. Another Wille. This time, they meet in a foreign city. Simon is singing karaoke with friends at a random dive bar. Though he doesn’t normally do this – at least, this Wille doesn’t – he offers to buy Simon a drink, taken by his beautiful voice. They stumble back to Wille’s hotel together, laughing and yelling into the dark and empty streets. 

Wille blinks and he sees a football field at midnight. No, no, that’s not right. He shuts his eyes again. 

They are standing on a beach together, now. Simon has a small band on his ring finger and so does Wille. They are happy. The sand is warm and so is Simon’s hand in his. With a smile as bright as the sun, his husband turns to him and whispers, I love you. Wille presses a kiss into Simon’s forehead. And I love you.

A dozen more images shift across Wille’s mind, too fast to soak them in fully, but long enough to see Simon and to know how right it feels. Every place, every time, they find their way to each other. No matter what, no matter how they find each other, even if only for a short time. They are bound together; he feels the searing mark of it in his heart, hears the word soulmate whispered in his ear. But, too quickly, he feels Simon slipping away, all the little versions of him falling through Wille’s fingers even as he scrambles to keep hold. Grief and pain and confusion are already seeping back into his chest, and he wants to scream in frustration. 

Then Wille remembers, distantly, Simon doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know they’re meant to be together. He doesn’t know how right it is, how real it is. The realest thing Wille’s ever had.

Blindly, movements still slurred and choppy, joints tight from the cold, he reaches for his phone. The number is there, easily, his fingers typing it already before he can even think about it. 

“Hello?”

“Simon.”

[anotherpapercut]

I don't really think it's fair to dismiss the idea that that guy might have been framed for killing the CEO as like an unfounded conspiracy theory when NYPD has a proven history of planting/fabricating evidence on people. in 2011 there was a massive investigation of the NYPD and hundreds of cases against people were dismissed after a former police officer testified that they literally have a name for planting evidence on people: flaking. you cannot be out here acting like considering the possibility that cops who do this shit under normal circumstances might possibly also do it when they're under intense global pressure and scrutiny is the same as republicans thinking democrats run a secret pedophile ring in the basement of a pizza restaurant

[lenamiyabi]

all these people are moving on to other fandoms after epic the musical and i'm right here, sobbing my eyes out. gods, i don't want to get rid of this endearing and dearly loved old plushie, even if it's broken and one of its eyes is missing. *sigh.* it's sad being in a fandom that has ended.

[monkesupreme]

ref

a satisfactory answer for Selina

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

for my first ever friends

[keferon]

Don’t mind me I just like to see him go bananas about cartoonish Autobot rules

Maaan…..if Prowl was in tfp he would spontaneously combust at least once a day

[very-small-giant]

you have been bad friends to riz gukgak

[egophiliac]

still ruminating over Lost In the Book With Spooky Skeletons Part 1, so here's a selection of some of my favorite little bits! (...some more loosely paraphrased than others) (I just feel like Idia has no room to criticize in general, okay)

anyway, I'm sure we're just going to have a fun time celebrating Halloween and nothing bad is going to happen whatsoever! :)

[pangur-and-grim]

I think he likes me

[pineapple-frenzy]

Book 2 au: sparring sessions and short hair katara

They like to have sparring sessions in order to keep their bending skills sharp. They allow themselves to go all out and not hold back at all cause they know if anyone got hurt, Katara could just heal them

But anyways, wouldn't it be kinda funny if Zuko accidentally burned Katara's hair tho? Aofkqldkkajfjd

The "I think we can save the hairloops" line is from @linnoya-writes thank you for that!! :>>

[the-heron]

Girls will say "this is my beautiful wife" and their beautiful wife is just a weird looking man

[enjoythesilentworld]

Wille's Month - Family (Dinner)

day 21 @youngroyals-events

A glimpse at the Royal Family’s dinner table over the years.

read below or on ao3 (T, 700)

1 Without Erik

The empty chair made Wille nervous. As he’d learned over the past few months since Erik started at Hillerska, an empty chair and a missing Perfect Brother meant all attention turned on Wilhelm. He didn’t want it. He wanted his brother there and for his parents to stop spending the whole dinner interrogating him. 

“I’m not sure a neighborhood soccer team is the best use of your time, Wilhelm.” His mother appraised him over the lip of her wine glass. “There’s a very prestigious sports club close by and they’ve offered you a spot on their rowing team. That is much more becoming, don’t you think?” 

“But, mamma, I don’t want to do rowing. I like soccer and I want to hang out with my friends,” he said, trying not to sound like a petulant child. It turned out his mother heard him as one, regardless. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Wilhelm, please. Erik does rowing and he greatly enjoys it. Moreover, you will be able to make much more… appropriate friends at this club.” 

His father stayed silent as they continued to fight. Eventually she brushed him off, saying they’d continue the discussion later. The topic then drifted to Wille’s grades and how disappointed they were he wasn’t getting as good of grades as Erik. From there the dinner descended until Wille was storming off and locking himself in his room. He didn’t join them for dinner the rest of that week. 

2 With Erik

It was almost bittersweet whenever Erik visited them during his final year at school. He always had plenty of fun stories to share and plenty of teasing for Wille. But, it was all just a reminder that next year he’d be off at military school and definitely wouldn’t be coming home to visit at any regular interval. Wille was scared of what would happen to him. Their parents were already cracking down about his upcoming confirmation and ‘ensuring he’s associating with the right types’ at school. 

He tried not to think about it, wanting to enjoy having his brother there.

“I have a lot more responsibility this year,” Erik was saying. “It’s quite nice to finally be in this position after looking up to the third years when I first started. Now it’s my turn to make sure our first years stay in line.” 

He looked over to Wille and winked, a sly smirk on his face. 

“That’s wonderful, dear,” Kristina said, nodding in approval. “I think your experience as prefect will come in handy in the future.” 

Their father cut in, asking, “How’s the rowing going, then?” 

From there, the conversation diverted. More about Erik’s accomplishments. More about how oh-so-talented their rowing team was that year. More about his grades and how well he was managing his tasks as Crown Prince along with everything else. 

Wille sat in silence, as he always did, laughing at his brother’s jokes and reveling in the lack of attention on him. There was a twinge in the back of his mind that made him a tad upset. He’d been elected captain of the intramurals soccer team he’d joined at school; no one asked him about that. He also had straight A’s at the moment, save for one class. No one asked him a single question, but he was mostly alright with it. 

3 Without Erik

Wille wanted to throw that empty chair across the room. What was once an annoyance, an indicator Wille would have to dodge questions and try to convince his parents he wasn’t a total fuck up, was now a horrible, ugly reminder of the glaring hole in their lives. 

If they didn’t want to talk to Wille before, they sure didn’t now. Not with everything he’d done wrong in the past few months. Not after the fight and the sex tape and his obvious inability to handle his new role as Crown Prince. A role which he very much did not ask for. 

The dinner table was almost always quiet now, if they even had dinner together. Wille missed being at Hillerska all the time. This holiday was bad enough with Erik gone for real. The least they could do was have dinner together, but more and more often he ended up eating dinner alone. He knew grief tore families apart, but weren’t they meant to try to stick together? Shouldn’t they be leaning on each other? 

Maybe not, because the dinners they did have were stilted and uncomfortable, as if none of them could speak across the pit that had opened up between them in the shape of an empty dinner chair and an unwanted crown. 

[harrywavycurly]

I just know it’s gonna really hit me the moment one of the boys says something and then I’m gonna lose it.

[joneevarts]

I just want to be happy but rusty quill said no.

Elias' version

Edit: y'all this is Peter Lukas not Martin lmaooo (tho they do look alike, plus I didn't made his white hair strands visible enough so my bad)

[kidovna]

manifested mileven at the snowball in 2016, so now I’m manifesting byler at senior prom🪻🌻