#team band of 7

[silverwiki]

redraw of that one naruto band pic (click for quality)

[sunshineandlyrics]

✈️🎧😁 On the plane flying to Merida they played Headline and Kill My Mind. Some Louies and Louis' team including his band were on the same plane (7 June 2024) via @ butterflyhesc

[elegantgothicoctopi]

Realizing my job might as well be a mid 90s comic book shop in that half our employees are 20-30 year old white dudes with pony tails and most of the staff can recite the Ferengi rules of acquisition on the spot.

[hearthomelesbian]

theyre executing me today due to my misunderstanding of pokemon breeding mechanics in gen 4 causing me to waste 3 days of my real life time hatching a dozen eggs and evolving 4 different baby pokemon that i didnt need to instead of just getting a smeargle to sketch both moves and then breeding it w a clefairy

[doctorwhoisadhd]

so wait, since i was just reminded of the recorder thing donna talked about in the giggle, i now have a question for uk ppl: do yall learn the recorder in school? like in a music class? and like how much do yall have music class over there?

[aricastmblr]

bts.bighitofficial instagram canal de difusión For ARMY 💜 - publico BTS official Administrador:

"MUSE" 발매까지 D-7🔥 심심한 아미들을 위한 무물타임!

D-7 till the release of “MUSE”🔥 If you’re bored, let’s have an AMA (Ask Me Anything)!

Y Pregunta: ¿Qué tipo de adelanto quieres ver? y contesto a varios con fotos y escrito acerca de MUSE

💬 post a song snippet! 💬 MV outfit!!! 💬 lyrics of the song 💬 choreografy 💜 🤔

sube foto de plumillas en fondo blanco

WHO HEART ? MY IS FOR WAITING

luego escribió:

“🎼 가사 힌트! 쉬우니까 금방 맞추겠지? 🎼 Here’s a hint! It’s easy, I think you’ll get it right away.”

“Guess the lyrics of WHO!”

sube foto de plumillas en fondo negro

WHO IS MY HEART WAITING FOR?

One more? ;)

y compartió de bts.bighitofficial instagram stories (vídeo corto de jm en su sala de practicas con su guitarrista de team jimin) y fotos de las plumillas en fondo blanco del canal de difusión.

“Who is my heart waiting for?”

Jimin_MUSE 12jul2024

BTS (방탄소년단) facebook official stories

Jimin_WHO

bts.bighitofficial j.m

(https://www.facebook.com/stories/173095687507824/UzpfSVNDOjM2NDk1MTM0ODUyNjUzOTE=/?view_single=1)

[ao3fujoshevik]

relistened to "a boy band made up of 4 joshes" & it's going into my cxg song kakakabu playlist i cannot be saved

[embraceweird]

I keep imagining Andrew as a little league coach to the most ferocious pack of little girls

Imagine a little 7 year old, chubby cheeks, missing tooth, two poofs of hair sticking out struggling to get the last strap of her glove fastened so Andrew comes over to help her out. As a thank you she picks a little flower and hands it to him. Andrew keeps that flower tucked behind his ear the rest of the day.

Or a bunch of 10 year olds decided that his black arm bands are boring so they conspire to get him a new pair that they all draw on themselves so he has something pretty to wear. Every time Andrew looks down at his arms he's reminded of their care and kindness.

Or middle school aged girls who ruthlessly go to bat for him whenever some random parent tries to use Andrew's sorted past as an excuse why he shouldn't be allowed to coach children.

Or Andrew being clued into all the hot gossip the team spills because they trust and value his opinions.

A group of girls who give no mercy and are hell on the exy court because they have the best mentor. Not only do they have excellent skills but they are by far the most coherent team.

Andrew being able to guide, lead, and support kids in ways he never received. Andrew being the coolest coach anyone could have ever asked for. Andrew Minyard, the only person who can truly understand and foster the feral nature of little girls.

[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 10

Summary: You finally end up spending some time alone with Remus.

CW: Coughing, Fever, Fainting, Description of sickness, Nightmares, Sirius being emotionally stunted.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Hey guys! Sorry for the delay on this one. I've been trying to branch out a bit with my writing over the last little bit to keep the inspiration going.

To be honest, I'm feeling a little lost with this story. I'm going to continue writing it, don't worry! But I really only properly planned up until the Christmas chapter, so if anyone has any ideas of what they'd like to see happen, feel free to send me a request!

--

The door closed behind you with a loud thump. You leaned your head on it for a moment, panting to catch you breath.

It had been a particularly long day at work. Most of the staff were off sick due to a flu outbreak and it meant that all the more responsibility fell on you. On top of that, you'd felt extremely exhausted all day. You weren't sure if it was from being overworked or a lack of sleep or some twisted combination of the two but your limbs felt like lead and your eyes had kept falling shut from where they were fixated on the screen of your computer.

The walk up the stairs had been torture paired with the fatigue that was consuming your bones and you felt your legs ache as you entered the hall of your apartment.

"Are you alright?"

You jumped as a voice emerged from behind you and you swung around to see Remus seated on the couch with a book in hand.

"Jesus!" you shouted, clutching a hand to your chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

You shook your head, sniffling slightly. "No it's fine. I just... didn't expect you to be sitting there."

He chuckled dryly. "Right, well no one is home so I thought I'd make use of the living room for a bit."

"Right..."

James had left two days ago for some sort of 'team building' trip with his workmates and you supposed Sirius had a gig tonight with the band, leaving only you and Remus in the apartment. As happy as you were that you didn't have to interact with Sirius tonight (you were still upset with him and really didn't have the energy right now to put on a happy face), you sort of wished James was there to ease the tension. Things had been more amicable with Remus lately. His Christmas gift had helped to ease some of the animosity between you, but you were still far from friends. You barely talked outside of necessary pleasantries and you definitely never spent time alone together.

You cleared your throat awkwardly but it quickly morphed into a loud cough. Remus looked up from his book once more, his brows furrowed as he assessed you from across the room.

"That doesn't sound good. Are you feeling okay?"

You huffed out a breath, throwing your bag down on the kitchen counter and running a hand over your face.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired," you murmured awkwardly. "I think I'll have an early night."

Swiftly, you began moving across the room towards the bathroom.

"Okay but-"

You shut the door with a sigh before Remus was able to continue.

You leaned back against the bathroom door, feeling a drop of sweat trail from your hairline and down the side of your face. If you were being completely honest, you felt like shit. You were just too embarrassed to admit you felt like shit in front of Remus.

You took a deep breath and straightened up, hoping a shower would help you feel a little more like yourself.

You stripped off, shivering in the cool air of the bathroom and turned the shower nob. Then you stepped under the spray, letting the warm water wash over you as the room began to fill with steam.

You didn't know how long you stood under the water, letting it sooth your aching bones but once you stepped out, you noticed that the sky outside the bathroom window had grown dark.

Slowly you trudged from the bathroom to your bedroom at the end of the hallway, pulling on your comfiest pajamas. With the little energy you had left, you shuffled out into the living area in the hopes of finding some leftovers in the fridge to at eat for dinner before you went to bed and inevitably slept for the next 48 hours.

As you emerged from the hallway, you noticed that you had begun to feel substantially worse. You were shivering despite wearing your thickest woolen pajamas, but somehow you were sweating at the same time.

You were glad to see that Remus had retired to his bedroom for the evening, not wanting him to see you in such a pathetic state. Your legs felt like they had cinderblocks tied to them, every step taking an immense amount of your dwindling energy.

As you made your way through the room, you suddenly began to feel... odd. You're head felt heavy, your vision darkening around the edges.

You came to a halt beside the couch, blinking absently and taking a second to catch your breath but it didn't seem to help all that much. Then, without warning, everything went black.

--

"Y/n?..."

"...hey, can you hear me?"

There was a voice coming from somewhere above you but you couldn't quite place who's it was.

You blinked slowly, awareness returning to your foggy mind. As you vision cleared, the first thing you saw were Remus' concerned chocolate eyes boring down on you.

"Hey, are you okay? You with me now?"

It was then his full face came into frame. Looking around, you realised that you were lying on the floor beside the coffee table, your feet resting on a pile of couch cushions. Remus was on his knees beside you, leaning down with a hand resting gently on top of your head.

You mustered a nod, a wave of embarrassment rippling through you.

"Okay, that's good," he murmured kindly. "Did you hit your head?"

"I- um," you took stock of how you were feeling. You were uncomfortable and still vaguely dizzy. Your elbow was throbbing from where you must've hit it on the corner of the coffee table as you fell but other than that, you didn't seem to have injured yourself too badly.

"N-no. I don't think so."

Remus nodded, his brows pinching in thought as he scanned through the next steps in his head.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

He flashed a peace sign in your direction.

"Two."

"Good, that's good. Do you think you feel ready to sit up?"

"Y-yeah... I think so," you mumbled unsurely.

"Okay, I'll help you. Take your time," he responded in a voice more gentle than you'd ever heard him speak in - to you at least.

He shuffled around a little bit so he was rested at your hip and then with steady hands placed under your back, he helped you sit up. The room tilted as you came upright but not nearly as violently as it had before.

Then, Remus guided you so that you were leaning back against the edge of the couch. He sat back on his knees, observing your form and you let out a heavy sigh, shaking with embarrassment - or maybe that was from the fever.

"Sorry about all this," you mumbled, shutting your eyes in the hopes of blocking out Remus' devastatingly concerned facial expression.

"It's not your fault," he was quick to reassure. "Besides, I'm a med student. You've given me an opportunity to test my knowledge on something practical."

You knew he was joking but your cheeks flushed nonetheless.

"It's really fine," he stated sincerely, upon noticing the mortification written across your face. "I just want to make sure you're okay. Your fever is pretty high."

"It is?"

He chuckled half-heartedly. "Yes. I would recommend that next time you don't take a scorching hot shower when your temperature is already at 39 degrees."

You cringed. "So this whole fainting ordeal could've been avoided then?"

"In theory, yes."

You groaned and covered your face with your hand. "Well on that note, I think I'm just going to go to bed."

You moved to pull yourself up but Remus rushed to grasp your arms on the way.

"Woah, hey, let me help you. You shouldn't be moving around too much yet."

"Right, sorry," you uttered awkwardly.

"It's okay. Here," with gentle precision, Remus got to his feet and lifted your arm around his shoulders. With so little energy remaining, you weren't bothered to be self-conscious as you leaned your weight against him and the two of you hobbled down the hall into your room.

When he deposited you into your bed, you immediately curled up in the sheets, shutting your eyes.

However, they popped open once again when you felt something cool press against your forehead only moments later.

You looked up to see Remus retreating from your room after laying a cool towel across your feverish forehead. As you drifted off into a fitful sleep, your last thought was about how he'd never been in your room before. You wondered if you'd remembered to tidy it.

--

You were running through a dark dense forest. Something was chasing you. You couldn't quite make out what it was but you knew it was angry.

You tried to move faster but as you ran, the forest grew wider and longer and darker. The branches were becoming thicker, they scratched your arms as you waded through the trees. You could hear the creature growling behind you. It was getting closer. You were panting and sweating, pushing yourself as fast as you could go but it felt as though the forest floor was covered in sand, your feet sinking into it every time they hit the ground.

You pushed on, carrying yourself forward, willing yourself to pick up the pace.

Then the ground dropped away completely. A cliff ledge had emerged in front of you and before you could stop yourself, you'd reached it.

Then you were falling.

--

You awoke with a start, gasping and panting for air. You were drenched in sweat, tangled up in your crumpled bed sheets. It was too hot, almost unbearably so. You thrashed around frantically for some semblance of relief.

It was at that moment, your door creaked open and a tentative Remus entered your room. He froze when he noticed you were awake and gaping at him with wide eyes.

"I just came in to check on you. How are you feeling?"

You went to respond but were overtaken with a slew of coughing that wracked through your body. Remus was at your side in an instant, a gentle hand placed on your back as you rode out the fit.

"I think it's time for some medicine," he mumbled under his breath, likely directed more towards himself than you.

It was then that you noticed the tray of items he'd placed on the table beside your bed. There was a bottle of water and an assortment of medicines as well as a thermometer which he picked up and proceeded to press into your ear.

You were so out of it, practically delirious with fever, that it took you a moment to realise how unusual this situation was. Remus - the same roommate who had been consistently cold and abrasive towards you in the months since you moved in - was now sitting at your bedside taking care of you while you were ill. It was completely unexpected, although you had to admit, not unwelcome. Something inside you stirred at the care he was showing you.

The pulled away, humming disapprovingly at the reading. You watched him with wide eyes as he busied himself reading medicine labels.

"Here, take these," he told you and dropped an assortment of pills into your hand. Then he uncapped the water bottle and handed it to you.

After you'd taken the medicine he gave you, he encouraged you to nestle back down under your covers and he pulled your duvet up to your chin.

"Try to get some sleep. Hopefully you'll feel better with a bit of rest," he told you.

He then turned, beginning to walk towards the doorway but you grabbed a hold of his wrist before he was able to leave.

"Remus," you muttered weakly, looking up at him with big, imploring eyes. Maybe it was the medicine or the fever, you weren't really sure, but an unwarranted confidence had begun to possess you.

He turned to look at you, his eyebrow raised in concern.

"Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?"

He paused for a moment, clearly surprised as he pondered the request. Then he looked back at you, taking in your pathetic form and he sighed, his shoulders relaxing.

"Okay. I can do that."

You wriggled over a little, patting the left side of your bed. Remus hesitantly took a seat on top of the covers, looking very out of place in your bedroom.

Subconsciously, you edged towards him, drawn into his body heat as you moved to a comfortable position.

Your eyes grew heavier as the effects of the medicine began to take hold. However, as sleep claimed you, a few last words rolled off your tongue before you could stop them.

"Why don't you like me Remus?"

He turned to you, raising an eyebrow as his gaze cast over your form.

"I mean, I try really hard to be your friend and I want us to be closer but you always treat me like you don't care. I don't know what I've done wrong."

Remus sighed heavily. "That's not true, Y/n. I do care about you. I just... I was worried that when you moved in, the dynamic with my friend group was going to change and I didn't know how to deal with it. But I'm sorry that I took it out on you. It was my issue, not yours and I should've been kinder. The truth is, I-"

He was cut short when you let out a congested snore beside him. He looked down to notice that your breathing had evened out and you'd drifted off into a semi-peaceful sleep, your warm head pressed up against his hip.

He couldn't suppress the fond smile that crossed his features at the sight. With a feather-light touch, he leaned down and pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

--

It was just past one in the morning when Sirius returned from a gig with his band at a Pub down the road.

It had been a good night. The crowd was energetic and they didn't mess up any of their set-list. It was a great show and he'd hung around afterwards for a couple of drinks and a bit of flirting with a few of the girls who'd been in the front of the crowd. However, despite the success of the evening, something felt like it was... missing somehow.

Even sitting across from an eager and curvaceous ginger, with a free beer in hand, his mind couldn't help but linger on... you. This was something that had happened more times then he cared to admit over the past few weeks.

To his own surprise, he'd turned down her advances in favour of heading home to your company. He hoped you'd still be awake as you sometimes were at this time on a Friday night. He expected to find you binge-watching Modern Family in the living room with a glass of wine in hand.

However, when he arrived back at the house, he was disappointed to find the space devoid of human life.

He took off his leather jacket and hung it on the rack by the door as his eyes scanned the empty living room. When he walked down the hallway, he was happy to see that there was a faint light coming from under your door.

He carefully pushed it open, not wanting to disturb you if you were writing. To his surprise, the sight he was met with was far from the one he expected.

There was Remus, sitting on your bed, reading a book in the soft glow of your bedside lamp while you were practically curled up in his lap, your breathing ragged as you slept.

Remus looked up to meet his friend's wide eyes as he observed the scene before him.

"Oh, hi. You're back earlier than expected."

Sirius blinked at him for a moment, trying to act nonchalant as he regained his bearings.

"Ah yeah. I guess I just wasn't feeling it tonight," then he gestured towards you. "Is she okay?"

Remus just nodded, sending his friend a soft smile. "Yeah. She's a little under the weather but seems to be a little better now."

He brushed a few fingers over your forehead, stroking some hair away from you eyes in the process as he got a gage of your temperature.

Sirius' heart clenched in a way he couldn't quite make sense of as he watched the moment unfold.

"She had a pretty high fever earlier," Remus explained. "But we managed to get it down."

"Ah, right," Sirius muttered, leaning against the doorframe. "Is... um, is there anything I can do? or..."

Remus gently shook his head. "Thanks for the offer but I think we'll be fine."

"Okay, well... I'll leave you to it then," Sirius stated with a tight-lipped smile.

"Okay, goodnight. Sleep well, Sirius."

"You too, Rem," He responded, closing the door behind him.

He let out a huff of air once he was out of earshot. There were a bunch of unexplainable feelings swirling inside of him. Was he jealous? No that wasn't it. It was something else. An odd sort of ache that lingered inside of him, a yearning for something that he couldn't quite place.

All he knew was that he didn't like it.

--

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy @navs-bhat @shushbruv @magicwithaknife @eeviee4 @notapoetjustscar @gugggu6gvai @robertsmithclone @ilovesugurugeto69 @taytayy178 @its-notkiee @bugworldsworld @switchingfandomslikecrazy @evangelquill, @delusional-4-fake-people, @ch4rlotte35, @insideoutjulie, @hiireadstuff, @laniirackssss, @starrystormwritings, @strategicsweetheart, @1800brat, @sammyreid, @frootloops1213, @ill-be-okay-soon-enough, @loveelylani, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @that-gay-person-27, @serenadingtigers, @lily-mylove

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 15

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14

Steve wishes it was raining. Instead, it’s a crisply cold day, but the sun’s shining brightly, illuminating Steve’s dour mood as he walks, unsure of where he’s even going.

The quarry’s miles away, holding his car and house keys hostage. So, he walks, and walks, and walks, aimless.

Chrissy’s probably still at Eddie’s, reading him the riot act, Jeff at her side, so she’s out. He doesn’t have anyone else—Tommy and Carol long since moving on to greener pastures, and no one on the basketball team would go out of their way to spit on him if he was on fire.

There’s always Nancy, but they’re ghosts in each other’s stories now, ships passing in the night.

He should walk to the quarry to pick up his car, and go home to his quiet, lonely house.

He calls Robin at the first pay phone he passes, digging around in his pocket for loose coins as he dials a number he hopes is hers. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Where do you live?” he asks.

“Shit, Steve?” her tired voice turns frantic. “Are you oka—”

“Robin,” he cuts in, voice cracking just enough to shut her up. “Can I come over?”

The other line’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of her muffled breathing assuring Steve she hadn’t hung up. “Robin?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry!” she cries, then rattles off her address. “When will you be here?”

It’s a small town, so it only takes Steve a second to reorient himself, figure out the quickest path from where he is to Robin. “About fifteen minutes?” he guesses, not used to accounting for walking time.

Robin sighs, “oh, good,” that frantic edge finally bleeding out of her voice. “Hurry up, dingus, okay?”

He runs out of time before he can reply, phone kicking the dial tone back at him until he hangs it back up, the barrel of the phone rattling as he puts it back on the dirty receiver.

The sun’s low in the sky when he finally stands in front of an unassuming house with a dingy white door. He’s numb, tired to his bones as he knocks quietly on the front door.

Robin flies out, arms wrapping around Steve in a tight hug before he even realizes she’s there. Steve shudders and buries his face in her hair, hands shaking as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her further into his chest.

She pats his back awkwardly but doesn’t let go as she asks, “you okay, dingus?”

“No,” Steve murmurs, afraid of how his voice will come out if he talks any louder. “Can I come in?”

Robin lets go immediately, but Steve holds on a second longer, not wanting to lose her warmth. “You can hug me again in my room, Steve,” she says, arms awkwardly held down at her sides.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he replies with one final squeeze to her middle.

When he finally lets go, fingers flexing in the cold air, Robin leads him into her house. She pulls him through the living room and up a set of stairs too quickly for Steve to get much of an impression past lived in and homey.

“I’ll be in my room!” Robin calls just before she shuts the door behind them, muffling what must be her mom’s response.

Robin’s bed’s messy, and there’s clothes all over her floor. The walls are covered in posters of bands he’s never heard of, pictures cut out of magazines, and little post-it note reminders.

While he gawks at his surroundings, Robin pulls him to her bed and pushes on his shoulders until he sits down on it. She then proceeds to wrestle her quilt away from her other blankets and drape it over his shoulders. Only then does Steve realize he’s shivering as the cold of the outside world slowly seeps out of his bones.

In here, as Robin sits down across from him, he feels safe, finally—safe and warm.

“Okay, spill,” she demands, taking any sting out of the order by reaching out and taking his hand.

Steve takes a breath, ready to heed her orders, before letting it all out. Where does he start? What does he say? Does he start with Jason? With the note to Chrissy? There’s just too much and it’s all tangled together.

But then she squeezes his hand and he says, “I told Eddie.”

He looks down at their linked hands, unwilling to meet her eyes as she prompts, “You told him…” in a hesitant voice.

“That I was the one writing the letters,” he replies. “That I like him, that it was never Chrissy.”

“Oh,” Robin says, scooting closer so their knees bump. He wishes, absurdly, that they were in that same boy’s bathroom stall for this conversation. “Oh, shit. Is he going to tell everyone? Oh my god, are you okay? What did he say?”

“Robin,” Steve cuts her off, knowing from experience that she’ll just keep on spiraling if he lets her. “He’s not going to talk to me anymore.”

And that, for the first time since everything started spiraling out of control, is what makes tears pool in his eyes. Eddie might tell everyone, and he might be run out of town, but that feels unimportant right now.

How can that matter when he’ll never go to another band practice or Dorks & Dragons session? How can that matter when Eddie will never smirk at something Steve says when he thinks Steve’s no longer looking? When he’ll never write another letter, or receive one back?

“I am so sorry, Steve,” she says, and she sounds it, even as she drops his hands to clutch at his face hard enough that his cheeks squish together. “But, are you stupid?”

“Hey!”

She loosens her hold long enough to wipe the few tears off his cheeks before clutching on tighter, nails digging into his cheeks. “I need you to listen to the words I’m saying,” she says, each word enunciated and slow like she thinks Steve’s stupid. “I know it hurts, but Eddie’s just some boy.”

She says the word “boy” like that in and of itself is some cardinal sin, mouth puckered up like it tastes bad on her tongue. Steve laughs, just a little, and she beams at him.

“He’s just a gross, icky boy, but you, Steve Harrington,” she says his name like it’s a revelation. “It has shocked me to my core, but I really, really like you, and I don’t want to have to kill Munson if he tells everyone in town about this, okay? Blood makes me squeamish.”

Steve laughs again, all tears and snot and gross-sounding phlegm. Robin grimaces, but doesn’t let go of him.

“Eddie won’t tell anyone,” Steve replies, pretty sure he’s telling the truth. “He’s too nice.”

She pulls his face closer, eyes boring into his as she says, “he made you cry,” like there is no worse crime. Steve loves her so much.

“I lied to him, Rob.”

Robin sighs, slumping into him until they both tumble down onto her unmade bed, quilts and sheets and comforters lumpy beneath them. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hate him, alright?” she asks, shoving a stuffed elephant into his arms. Steve squeezes it to his chest and stares up at the little glow-in-the-dark stars taped up on her ceiling. “I don’t give a fuck about Munson—I’m here for you.”

And no matter how much he wants to defend Eddie, it’s a comfort to hear. With Chrissy and Jeff, he’s not sure where their loyalties will shake out. Eddie’s their friend, even if they’re Steve’s too. When their newly-forming group fractures at the seams, he’s not sure where they’ll land.

But, he’s got Robin, and maybe that’ll be enough.

“Can I spend the night?” he whispers. “I sort of left my car at the quarry along with my house keys.”

Robin spins around, her hair tickling Steve’s nose as she makes herself comfortable nestled into Steve’s side. “You’re a disaster,” she sighs, “but, yeah. Let me go ask my mom.”

*** 

In the morning, while Steve’s still starfished out on her bedroom floor, Chrissy calls. Robin’s mom is the one that picks up, but when she yells up the stairs, Robin comes running.

Chrissy’s tinny voice sounds frantic as she asks, “have you seen Steve?” quickly enough that Robin barely catches it. “He was at Eddie’s yesterday, but his car’s not at his house, and he’s not picking up his phone, and I’m so wor—“

“He left his car at the quarry,” Robin cuts in, relieved when it shuts Chrissy up. A small part of her burns that it took Chrissy so long to call her when she’d asked her to, like without Robin in front of her, she’d fled the other girl’s mind entirely. “He’s with me.”

“Oh, good,” Chrissy sighs, sounding so relieved that Robin has a hard time holding onto her grudge. “Did he…tell you?”

Robin glances at her mom, standing in front of the stove and stirring eggs around in a pan, well within hearing range. So, all she says is, “he told me.”

“Is he okay?”

Robin runs her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth down her bedhead. “Would you be?” Chrissy doesn’t reply—she doesn’t need to, not when they both know there’s only one answer to that question. “Look, I’ve got him, okay?”

“Okay,” she sighs, sounding relieved. Before she can make her excuses to get off the phone, Chrissy asks. “Hey Robin?”

Robin hums in reply, out of words.

“Thank you.”

With that, the girl that Robin likes hangs up on her, probably to call her own boyfriend and update him on the situation. Robin’s gut clenches, but she tries to take her own advice—Chrissy’s just a girl, but Steve? He’s her friend.

“I’m trying not to be nosy,” her mom prompts, and Robin jumps, having entirely forgotten she was there, “but is your friend okay?”

Robin tries to think of a non-outing way to explain the situation before giving it up as a bad job and just saying, “he’s going through a break-up.” Emotion-wise, it feels close enough to the truth anyway.

Her mom spins, spatula in hand as she raises an eyebrow at Robin and asks, “moves on fast, doesn’t he?”

“Ew, Mom!” Robin cries, stalking out of the kitchen to the sound of her mom’s laughter.

Steve’s up when she goes back into her room, rubbing his eyes blearily as he looks around her room like this is the first time he’s seeing it. “You want breakfast?” she asks.

They eat eggs, hash browns and toast, her mom keeping the invasive questions to a minimum, and then they commandeer the TV in the living room to watch shitty romcoms and complain about their disastrous love lives.

It’s fun—Robin can’t remember the last time she’s had a friend over, much less one she can be honest with, so when Steve makes no move to leave as afternoon turns into evening, she doesn’t mention it either, just shoves a baggy clean shirt and a pair of her dad’s sweatpants at him and demands he change.

It’s in the dark of her room that night that Steve asks, “can I sit with you at lunch on Monday?”

Robin smiles, picturing King Steve Harrington strolling up to the band geek’s table like he belongs there. “Course, dingus,” she replies, and is rewarded by Steve reaching up to take her hand.

“Love you, Rob,” he murmurs.

She stares down into the darkness, gobsmacked as his breathing evens out and he falls asleep. Tomorrow morning, her mom will drive Steve to pick up his car, and he’ll go home.

But right now, tonight, Steve Harrington loves her, and he fell asleep holding her hand.

PART 16

[p0orbaby]

It Doesn’t Get Any Easier

summary: you’re the new physio, tasked to help leah one on one with her recovery; but lines start to blur the longer you spend with one another

warnings: none

a/n: i enjoyed this one. also trying out a slightly different style so let me know what you think

word count: 2.8k

-

Leah comes in every morning just after 7:30, always a little earlier than the rest of the team—well, what’s left of the team—who roll in around 8, give or take. You start noticing her patterns by the second week. It’s not intentional. It’s just that she’s hard not to notice. The way she slips into the room quietly, moving like a shadow, like she’s trying not to be seen even though she’s Leah Williamson and there’s something impossible about Leah Williamson going unnoticed. You’re not sure she’s aware of it, or maybe she is, maybe it’s part of the act, something people like her learn over time—how to balance being seen and unseen simultaneously. Either way, she always acknowledges you. It’s a brief nod or a soft “Morning” that comes out like a sigh. But it’s there. And you nod back because it’s professional, it’s polite.

You’re the new physio, brought in because someone higher up decided that ACLs are the new pandemic, and Arsenal’s hit hard by it. One by one, players dropping like flies—tears, rips, stretches that aren’t supposed to stretch. Someone needed to focus on rehab, on these slow and tedious one-on-one sessions. So, here you are. Your life has become a revolving door of knee braces, resistance bands, ultrasound machines, and cold compression therapy. A strange, repetitive kind of intimacy.

Leah is assigned to you. "Take care of her," they say. She’s a captain. She’s the face. There’s an unsaid urgency that comes with her, an invisible asterisk by her name. You feel it in every briefing, every passing mention of her progress. Everyone’s waiting for her return. Waiting for her to be fixed.

Your first session with her is awkward. Stilted. You’re overly conscious of how she sits, her knee elevated, her eyes on the ceiling, like she’s counting the tiles instead of looking at you. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and that weird plastic-y scent that medical equipment always has. You ask her the standard questions: pain level, range of motion, any stiffness. She answers with one-word responses, tight-lipped. There’s a distance between you that you can’t quite figure out if it’s professional or personal. Maybe both.

-

Weeks pass, and the routine becomes muscle memory. You know when to push and when to pull back. How to make her laugh, how to coax her into stretching just a little more without her getting defensive. You start to notice the little things about her. Like how she always wipes her hands on her shorts after you adjust the brace on her leg, or how she clicks her tongue when she’s frustrated, a soft noise that barely registers unless you’re paying attention, which you are. You’re always paying attention to Leah.

It’s in the middle of a session that things shift. You’re guiding her through a series of exercises—balance work, stuff that’s boring but essential—and she’s sweating, biting her lip as she focuses on not wobbling. You’re right there, hands out, ready to catch her if she stumbles. She doesn’t, but the proximity is there. Too close, maybe. Your fingers brush her waist as you correct her form, and she inhales sharply. You freeze, but she doesn’t move. Neither do you.

"Is this okay?" you ask, your voice lower than usual, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the weight of her stare, those sharp blue eyes locking onto yours.

"Yeah," she says, but her voice sounds strained, like she’s not sure it’s the right answer. She’s not looking at you anymore, her focus now on the floor, her hands gripping the sides of the bench like she needs to anchor herself. The room feels smaller, the air thick.

You pull back, step away, putting space between you, but it doesn’t feel like enough. You can still feel the echo of her skin under your fingers, the heat of her proximity. You clear your throat, force a smile. "Let’s take five”

She nods, doesn’t say anything, just grabs her water bottle and takes a long drink, her throat working, a bead of sweat rolling down her neck. You turn away, pretend to be adjusting something on the ultrasound machine even though it’s perfectly fine, just to give yourself something to do, something that isn’t thinking about how her skin felt under your hands.

-

The next time around is more tense. There’s an unspoken tension now, like a line has been crossed, or maybe it hasn’t, but it’s close. You’re hyper-aware of every movement, every brush of skin. Leah doesn’t mention it, but there’s a change in her too. She flirts, subtly at first—offhand comments, jokes that land just a little too close to something more. You laugh, play along, because it’s harmless. It’s nothing. Except it’s not.

You catch yourself watching her more. The way her muscles ripple under her skin as she moves, the way her lips part when she’s concentrating, how her eyes flick to you when she thinks you’re not looking. You wonder if she notices you doing the same. You wonder if she feels it too—this thing simmering between you that’s becoming harder to ignore.

One day, after a session, she lingers. The rest of the team has filtered out of the gym, and it’s just the two of you, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound.

"Thanks for today," she says, her voice soft. She’s sitting on the edge of the bench, her knee still wrapped in the brace, but she looks more relaxed than she has in weeks. There’s something in her eyes, something you can’t quite read, and it makes your chest tighten.

"It’s my job," you say, but the words feel hollow. You’ve been telling yourself that for weeks now, trying to convince yourself that this is just work, that this is just another injured player, another knee to fix. But it’s not. You’re not sure when it stopped being just that, but it has.

"Is it, though?" she asks, and her voice is lighter now, teasing, but there’s an edge to it. A challenge.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. "What do you mean?"

She stands, slowly, her movements careful, deliberate. She’s close to you now, too close again, and you don’t step back this time. "I think you know what I mean," she says, her eyes locked on yours, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous.

You don’t have an answer, or maybe you do but you don’t trust yourself to say it out loud. The air between you crackles with something electric, something that feels inevitable.

She leans in, just a fraction, and you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. You could close the distance. You could kiss her, right here, right now, and no one would know. It would be easy. Too easy.

But you don’t.

Instead, you step back. You force a smile. "We should stick to the plan. Don’t want to push the knee too hard too soon”

It’s a cop-out, and you both know it. The shift in her expression is almost imperceptible, but you catch it—the brief flicker of disappointment before she masks it with a shrug.

"Right. The knee," she says, her tone casual, but the tension is still there, hanging between you like a thin thread ready to snap. She doesn’t push it, though. Instead, she grabs her bag, slings it over her shoulder, and heads for the door. But just before she leaves, she glances back at you, her eyes sharp, like she’s trying to figure you out, trying to decide if this is a game or something else entirely.

You stand there for a long time after she’s gone, the gym feeling too big, too empty. You can still feel the weight of her gaze, the heat of her body close to yours. You tell yourself it’s just work, just rehab. But deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

It’s never that simple.

-

The sessions after that are different. There’s a push and pull now, a tension that neither of you acknowledges but is impossible to ignore. Flirting turns into something sharper, more pointed, like you’re both testing the limits, seeing how far you can go before something breaks. But nothing breaks, not really. Not yet.

Then one night, you cross the line. It’s late, the training ground is empty, and Leah’s the last one in the gym. You’re both exhausted, worn down by weeks of slow progress, of frustrations mounting. The conversation starts off innocuous—something about her recovery timeline, how she’s feeling. But it shifts quickly. There’s an edge to her voice, a sharpness that cuts through the usual banter.

"Why do you keep pulling back?" she asks, and there’s nothing light in her tone now. It’s serious. She’s serious.

You blink, thrown off. It’s late, the harsh fluorescent lights above cast everything in this sterile, washed-out glow that makes you feel like you’re in a hospital, or some kind of waiting room where nothing feels real, nothing matters. Leah’s standing in front of you, close but not too close, not like before, but close enough that you feel it—the weight of her presence, the space she occupies, the air between you vibrating, charged with something neither of you is willing to name but it’s there. It’s been there for weeks. Maybe longer.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, but it’s a lie and you both know it. You’re tired, too tired to come up with something convincing, and it’s the way she’s looking at you now, like she’s seeing through every excuse you’ve built up, every wall you’ve thrown up between you because you know you have to, because you’re the physio, you’re supposed to be the professional, the one who stays detached, clinical, objective. You’re supposed to care about her body, her knee, not the rest of her. Not this.

But the truth is, you do care, too much, and it’s bleeding into everything. Into the way you touch her during sessions, the way your fingers linger just a little too long on her skin when you’re adjusting the brace, or the way your pulse speeds up when she leans back on the bench, sweat glistening on her forehead, the tendrils of her hair stuck to her neck, and you wonder what it would feel like to brush them away. You know you shouldn’t, that it’s a line you can’t cross, but the line’s blurred now, so faint you can barely see it anymore.

Leah narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s wearing an old Arsenal training kit, the fabric worn and soft, the logo faded from too many washes, and you notice that she tugs at the hem of her shirt when she’s frustrated, twisting it around her fingers like she’s trying to keep her hands busy, like she doesn’t know what else to do with them. “You’re not stupid,” she says, and her voice is sharp, but there’s something underneath it—something vulnerable, like she’s exposing a part of herself she doesn’t want to, but she can’t help it. “You know exactly what I mean”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. You’re not stupid. You know why you’ve been pulling back. Why you’ve been keeping your distance. It’s because this—whatever this is—is dangerous. It’s complicated. It’s wrong in a way that’s hard to define but easy to feel, like a low hum in the back of your mind that you can’t shake. And yet, the more you try to stay away, the more you find yourself drawn to her. Like gravity. Like something you can’t control, no matter how hard you try.

“It’s not that simple,” you say, and your voice sounds hollow even to your own ears. You’re aware of how this looks—two people alone in a gym, the air thick with unspoken tension, the kind of tension that feels like it’s been building for a long time and is about to spill over. You glance at the clock on the wall—it’s almost 10 a.m.—and you wonder how it got so late, how time seems to bend around her, how hours slip by when you’re with her but still, its never enough. There’s always more, always something unsaid hanging in the air between you.

Leah uncrosses her arms, taking a step closer. You can see the faint scar on her knee, the way the skin’s still a little pink, a little raw, and it’s a reminder of why you’re here, what your job is, but all you can think about is the way her eyes are locked on yours, unflinching. “I’m not asking for simple,” she says quietly, and there’s an intensity in her voice that catches you off guard. “I’m asking for honest”

The word hangs in the air, heavy, and you feel something in your chest tighten. Honest. You think about what that would look like. What it would feel like to stop pretending, to stop playing this game where you act like you don’t notice the way she looks at you, the way your body reacts to hers. You think about what it would mean to cross that line, to give in to what’s been building between you. The consequences. The fallout. The way it would shift everything irreparably, and yet, the thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should.

You take a breath, slow, steady, trying to collect yourself, trying to find the right words, but they’re all tangled up in your head, a mess of things you can’t say, shouldn’t say. “Leah,” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence, because there’s no good way to say what you’re thinking, no good way to explain the way your heart speeds up when she’s near, the way your skin prickles under her eyes, the way your mind drifts to her at night when you’re lying in bed, staring into the darkness, replaying moments in your head that shouldn’t matter but do.

She’s watching you, waiting, and you can feel the weight of her expectation, the way she’s daring you to say something real, something that matters. And maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re tired of pretending, tired of holding back, but something inside you cracks, just a little, just enough.

“I’ve been trying to keep this professional,” you say, and the words come out in a rush, tumbling over themselves like they’ve been waiting to escape. “Because I have to. Because I don’t know how else to do this without—” You stop, shaking your head, because it sounds ridiculous, it sounds like an excuse, and maybe it is. “It’s not just about your knee,” you say finally, and it feels like a confession, like something you’ve been holding onto for too long. “It’s about everything else”

Leah’s eyes widen, just for a moment, and you see something flicker across her face—surprise, maybe, or relief, or something else entirely. She doesn’t say anything right away, but she steps even closer, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of her sweat mixed with the scent of her shampoo, something clean and floral, and it hits you like a wave, overwhelming in its simplicity. You feel the pull again, stronger now, undeniable.

“You think I don’t know that?” she says, and her voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that cuts through the haze in your mind. “You think I don’t feel it too?”

The words hang between you, suspended in the air, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the gym, the team, the world outside this room. It’s just you and her, and the weight of everything you haven’t said, everything you’ve been too scared to admit.

Leah reaches out, her fingers brushing against your arm, and the contact sends a jolt through you, a spark that ignites something deep inside, something you’ve been trying to suppress for weeks, months. You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you disappears, and her lips are on yours, and it’s like everything snaps into focus all at once.

The kiss is rough, urgent, like it’s been building for too long and now there’s no stopping it. Her hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat of her body against yours, the way her breath mingles with yours in the small, stolen space between kisses. It’s messy, frantic, like neither of you can get enough, like you’ve been starving for this and now you’re finally letting yourself have it.

You don’t think about the consequences, about what happens when this moment ends. You don’t think about the power imbalance, the lines you’re crossing, the mess you’re making. All you can think about is the way she feels against you, the way her fingers dig into your skin like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go.

[captain-joongz]

summer recap/favourite fics/fic recommendations for the first half of 2024!

Pretty flushed by @holybibly

♡ 2 parts, wolf!hwa x rabbit!reader x wolf!joong, a/b/o, smut smut smut, a little dark

Industry baby by @kitten4sannie

♡ mingi x reader x joong, rock band au, cuckold play, bf!mingi and bandmate!joong

Arriba! + Freak! by @teeskzagain

♡ f!reader x joong, yunho, san, woo and mingi, college au, a lot of smut, sex under the influence, ateez are absolute pervs, "the boardgame made us do it"

7 minutes of compensation by @k-hotchoisan

♡ hwa x f!reader x yunho, frat!teez, threesome

in the wings by @sanjoongie

♡ rapppers hwa and joong x f!reader, backstage pass, smut, double penetration, groupie au

Case: It's you by @potatomountain

♡ ot8 x f!reader, e2l, police au, workplace romance, investigative and horny ;)

Inception by @remedyx

♡ a repeat from the last list, but it's sooo good, go check it out!!

The happiest girl in the world by @holybibly

♡ camboy!hwa x f!reader, private call, smut, streamer x fan au

February filth fest 2024 day 13: Uniform by @sanjoongie

♡ new captain!hwa x former captain!reader, mutiny au, scifi, mean dom hwa, humiliation and degradation

February filth fest 2024 day 21: aphrodisiacs/overstim by @sanjoongie

♡ alien!joong x human!reader, alien poison as an aphrodisiac, oviposition

Ugh, as if by @ennysbookstore + Ugh, as if - bonus

♡ punk!joong x f!reader, joong works with leather, cute and hot, joong helps reader overcome insomnia with some good old-fashioned orgasms

Look after you by @mingigoo

♡ musician!joong x nurse!reader, a little angsty, but with a sweet ending, smut

Plug & Play by @bangtanintotheroom

♡ guitarist!joong x f!reader, rock band au, s2l, backstage sex, reader is horny and hongjoong is hot

this ask by @nateezfics

♡ sex with angry joong, bratty reader

Honey and blood by @nateezfics

♡ vampire!joong x maid!reader, dark but sweet, smut with feels

10:11 : féconder by @yeosgoa

♡ assistant!joong x witch!reader, academia au, accidental aphrodisiacs, desperate joong under the influence of a sex potion

cross my heart by @doitforbangchan

♡ brother's best friend!joong x f!reader, dark, yandere joong, he's very manipulative, dubcon/noncon, sex under the influence

February filth fest 2024 day 4: public sex by @sanjoongie

♡ cowboy!san x wise woman!reader, wild west au, san is injured, san is head over heels for reader, save a horse ride a cowboy ;)

no hesitation by @daemour

♡ fratboy!san x f!reader, bff2l, college party au, misunderstandings, fools in love, smut

February filth fest 2024 day 23: breeding kink by @sanjoongie

♡ kitty hybrid!woo x f!reader, rut sex, cumplay, bratty woo

deliver us from evil by @holybibly

♡ priest!woo (or is he???) x f!reader, hierophilia, sacrilege, church sex, very dark, rough sex and humiliation

IT's You by @shinestarhwaa

♡ debate team au, college au, e2l, mean woo, rough sex

Right here by @0097linersb

♡ bff!woo x f!reader, pervy woo who wants to fuck his bff, very sexually frustrated reader

My library | BTS fic recs

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Take A Chance On Me Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you’re around him the more you hate him, but you can’t help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Eventual), Little bit of Grumpy vs. Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy

Spotify Playlist 🪴

[SERIES COMPLETE]

Chapter 1: Are You Always Like This?

Chapter 2: What A Great Freakin' Way To Start The Day

Chapter 3: Please Remember To Take Your Happy Pills

Chapter 4: You Want to Live Where?

Chapter 5: We Got Us An IKEA Virgin

Chapter 6: Best Friends Forever

Chapter 7: It’s Not A Date

Chapter 8: It's Still Not A Date

Chapter 9: Don't Let The Bed Bugs Bite

Chapter 10: Brother Dearest

Chapter 11: It’s Giving Kidnapping?

Chapter 12: Skip The Bagel Next Time

Chapter 13: Taking Out The Trash

Chapter 14: Don't Be A Bundt Cake

Chapter 15: I Don't Know What You Did To Me!

Chapter 16: I Thought I Was In Love Before

Epilogue: I Don't Want To Lose Your Lovelight

{One Shots}

Open Mic Night: When Ben and you go out on a double date with Annie and Hughie, you realize that maybe it was a bad idea.

Little Things: All Soldier Boy wants for Christmas is to find the perfect gift for you and all you want is for your boyfriend to have the best Christmas he has in forty years.

Last Updated: 01/19/2025

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @ej13928 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @modiddys-blog

@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

@n-o-p-e-never @nesnejwritings @am0rem @tpwkcalli @momggn

@fitxgrld @whimsicalcherry @ladysparkles78

@spxideyver @zepskies @impala67stellawinchester

@reidtomewinchester @samanthadegaro @glossy01 @nikimisery

@tunnelvisionlove @incandxscents @winchester-stark @samahanta

@melonmochi

@kamisobsessed @whichwitchwanda @karolina-12110905 @jcollins03-blog

@pixviee @filmologetica @yvonneeeee @c1nnamong1rl29 @kmc1989

@livya99 @cherrygirl444 @tulipsvanilla @angrydragon90 @chi-raz

(Photos on Mood Board From Pinterest)

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Nirvana - The Man Who Sold the World 1993

"The Man Who Sold the World" is the title track of David Bowie's third studio album, which was released in 1970 in the US and in 1971 in the UK. Although no singles were issued from the album, the song appeared as the B-side on the 1973 reissue US single release of "Space Oddity" and UK single release of "Life on Mars?".

In his journals, Kurt Cobain of the American grunge band Nirvana ranked the album The Man Who Sold the World at number 45 in his top 50 favourite albums. Nirvana subsequently recorded a live rendition of the song during their MTV Unplugged appearance at Sony Music Studios in New York City on 18 November 1993 and it was included on their MTV Unplugged in New York album released on November 1, 1994, nearly seven months following the death of Cobain. The song was also released as a promotional single for the album in 1995.

Nirvana's cover received considerable airplay on alternative rock radio stations and was also placed into heavy rotation on MTV, peaking at number 3 on MTV's most played videos on 18 February 1995; it also peaked for two weeks at number 7 on Canada's MuchMusic Countdown in March 1995. Nirvana regularly covered the song during live sets after their MTV Unplugged performance up until Cobain's death. In 2002, the song was re-released on Nirvana's self-titled "best of" compilation.

Bowie said of Nirvana's cover: "I was simply blown away when I found that Kurt Cobain liked my work, and have always wanted to talk to him about his reasons for covering 'The Man Who Sold the World'" and that "it was a good straight forward rendition and sounded somehow very honest." Bowie called Nirvana's cover "heartfelt", noting that "until this [cover], it hadn't occurred to me that I was part of America's musical landscape. I always felt my weight in Europe, but not [in the US]." In the wake of its release, Bowie bemoaned the fact that when he performed the number himself, he would encounter "kids that come up afterwards and say, 'It's cool you're doing a Nirvana song.' And I think, 'Fuck you, you little tosser!'"

At a pre–Grammy Awards party on 14 February 2016, Nirvana band members Krist Novoselic, Dave Grohl, and Pat Smear teamed up with Beck to perform "The Man Who Sold the World" in tribute to Bowie – who had died the month before — with Beck performing vocals.

"The Man Who Sold the World" received a total of 77,6% yes votes! Dave Grohl has previously been featured in the polls with Foo Fighter's "The Pretender" at #111 and as a drummer on Queens of the Stone Age's "No One Knows" at #87, and David Bowie has been featured with "I'm Afraid of Americans" at #33.

[hbhcgkycuovouoytftof]

Wait, hang on. We learned that Team Fortress was just one of many teams of mercenaries hired to fight and kill over Redmund and Blutarch’s worthless scraps of land. More specifically, they were the worst of the bunch, the losers. It was a suprise to everyone that they were the only ones that Gray's TFC mercs didn’t manage to kill.

Miss Pauling was assigned specifically to Team Fortress. We see that the headquarters of the Administrator’s organization has many employees. All this time it seemed natural to assume that Miss Pauling and The Administrator were a two-woman band of sorts, but now we see there was an entire shadowy organization. In comic issue 7 Miss Pauling speculates that she may be promoted to second-in-command, which implies she is currently lower on the totem pole. Presumably all those other merc teams had their own handlers assigned to them.

And Miss Pauling was assigned to… Team Fortress. The loser team. She was the loser handler. Not only was she not as important to the Administrator as Zephaniah, she wasn’t even her most important employee. Miss Pauling devoted her life to the mission of a woman who truly didn’t give a shit about her. She never would have heard from the Administrator again if any of the other merc teams were successful in recovering the australium.

Damn! I hope she found a nicer lady to simp for.

[willowcreektownie]

My personal wishlist for TS4

1. More after school activities for children. I’m sick of drama club or scouts

2. More blue collar jobs. There are firefighters but my Sim can’t be one?? Not even a mail person?? Make it make sense

3. Clothing that is only available for teens. This should’ve been something that was carried on from TS2

4. Obviously bands. Or really just instruments in general

5. Cars. Idc if they can actually drive but we have driveways and they’re useless.

6. Elder specific clothing. Again, should’ve been carried on from TS2

7. Special activities for toddlers. Sims team hates toddlers for some reason I will never understand.

8. Extended family. My Sims should not be able to date their immediate cousin

9. MORE UNIVERSITY MAJORS and add minors.

10. Again more jobs that go along with uni majors and part time jobs. Make the vet career active, I don’t want to own a business all the time.