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cottonlemonade · 3 months ago

Note

hii! may i please order a medium pineapple lemonade with extra ice for suna? your work is always so wonderful 🥹🌸

Accidental Confession

word count: 1317 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: rival!Suna x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with some suggestiveness, enemies to lovers

warnings: mdni

request: fluffy-spicy accidental confession with rival Suna

It all started with a meme. If Suna hadn’t taken that picture of you stretching during class and added a little Simba into your hands, you wouldn’t have photoshopped his face onto a mop.

To be fair, his was harmless. Yours was downright rude and so he fell in love immediately.

He followed you around - not as inconspicuously as he might have hoped - to sneak a photo in the most meme worthy moments, flooding his camera roll with dozens and eventually hundreds of snapshots of you. The whole front of a silly little meme war was a great excuse to mask his steadily growing crush and his friends didn’t think anything of it when Suna set a picture of you mid-sneeze as his lock screen. Granted, he himself was still very much in denial about his feelings as well, so it wasn’t that difficult to pretend that he wasn’t bothered when you talked to an upperclassman and laughed loudly at his, undoubtedly, mediocre joke - although Suna did sweep his pencil case off his desk in an attempt to wave Osamu off when he asked if he was okay.

The class groaned when the teacher announced that for the impending field trip they’d be split into teams of two via random lottery. Half the students got assigned a number while the other half drew a little piece of paper from a box held out to them to match with said number. Quiet cheers and not so quiet disappointment could be heard and the teacher called for silence.

Annoyed that he didn’t even get the minuscule chance to work with him, Suna leaned over to Osamu, “Who do you have?” His friend unfolded his paper and turned it over to read.

“5. That’s…”, he craned his neck to check and count, “Y/n, ya?”

“Switch with me.”, Suna said.

“Why? Who do ya have?”

“Don’t care. Come on.”

Osamu frowned and raised an almost disappointed brow.

“What happened to ya, dude? Ya know, yer bein’ real obvious at this point, right?”

Suna rejected the allegations, waited a moment, then simply exchanged his slip of paper with Osamu’s.

“Ya owe me.”, Osamu noted.

“Yeah yeah.”

Meanwhile, you seemed less thrilled about the match and when the bell rang you threw an annoyed look at Suna who gave you a blank stared wave and went to lunch with your friends. He was a very unfortunate long-term crush you had nursed since the beginning of the year and was as handsome as he was annoying. In spite of this, you had a great time complaining about your matched partners over your bentos while enjoying the mellowing summer sun under the shade of a tree.

When the next morning arrived, Suna made sure to be only two minutes late instead of his usual 15, so he could secure the spot next to you on the long drive to Kobe. The class would be headed to the big art museum in the city and as an assignment got a list of 15 art pieces they had to find, like a scavenger hunt. The first team to get a picture from each of their art works would get to choose where to go for lunch.

With a sigh you dropped in the seat next to him, frowning at his sleepy grin. When you only scoffed and looked away, his heart started pounding and he had no idea why. And this wasn‘t a “oh Suna, you‘re just in love, silly“ kinda pounding. No! This was more similar to that one time when he went out for coffee with his friends and instead of admitting that he wanted his favorite - a sickeningly sweet vanilla latte with extra syrup pumps - he ordered an iced Americano with a triple shot because he thought it sounded cool and for hours it had felt as if a tiny panicked bird was trapped in his chest. In short, he concluded, you were not good for his health.

“Alright.”, you said once you turned to him. You stood in the entrance together with the rest of the class, holding the reference paper in hand listing the artwork, “I’ll take the top 8, you take the bottom 7.”

He bit back a comment about how there was nothing “bottom” about him, but one look from you and he was quiet. That icy stare of disdain made him want to do the cooking and the cleaning and ask how your day had been while he finished up the ironing. “Let’s do this.”, he replied and nearly whimpered when you rolled your eyes at him.

With some quick online searching, the artwork was quickly found and the pictures taken. To keep up appearances he snapped a few pics in between of the NPCs in baroque paintings with increasingly weird facial expressions, fully intending to ask, “This you?” the next time he saw you. He could also airdrop them during class and looked forward to receiving a less than flattering emoji or thumbs down.

But now he had a different objective. Excited at the prospect of finally having an excuse to get your number, he jogged through the museum to your previously agreed upon meeting spot, finding you seated and waiting for him on a bench. You were scribbling on a notepad precariously balanced on your knees. He snuck up behind you, leaned in close to your ear and in a low calm voice went, “Boo.”

The yelp you let out had museum goers turn to you and a man with a lanyard, who was guiding a tour, threw an exasperated sigh in your direction.

“You better sleep with one eye open.”, you pressed out through gritted teeth, a deep red tint on your cheeks.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”, he said simply and in one smooth movement sat down next to you.

“So, how do you wanna do this?”, he then asked casually, waiting for you to say the words.

“Just airdrop them to me.”, you frowned.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Luckily his deflated shoulders were masked by his chronically bad posture and he quickly selected the necessary pictures.

Your phone gave a little buzz and you accepted the stack. “That’s all. You’re excused. Go off and do… whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I can stay and help, you know? I skimmed some of the plackets.”

“What great work ethic.”, you deadpanned but moved your notepad closer to him so he could see.

With your other hand you swiped through the photos, double checking if you had everything.

He was too busy catching a whiff of your shampoo to notice you furrowing your brow.

“Uhm, Suna.”

You turned your phone screen to him and the blood drained from his face.

It was a picture of you - of course, what else could it have been. You were absently staring out the window in the classroom, your hair a little messy from a regular day of fending for your life in high school. Your chin rested on your palm and the sun shone beautifully against your face. He knew the picture well, because just last night when he couldn’t sleep, he edited it. Black and white hearts bordered the snapshot, a slightly blurry filter gave it a dreamlike feel. He gagged when he saw just how mushy he must have felt to add words around your head. Pookie. Baddie. Loml. My Bbg.

“What kind of prank is this?”, you asked, suspicion clinging to every syllable.

Suna thought.

Telling you that this picture was born out of post-nut hormones would only lead to a somewhat compromising confession that he fondled and humped his body pillow thinking of you, having no problem at all imagining your so very tempting love handles spilling between his fingers.

“Would you believe me if I told you my dog took my phone?“

You stared at him for a moment, then broke into giggles.

a/n: thank you so much for continuing to participate in my events! I’m so happy when someone comes back for more 🥺 I hope you enjoyed this one! 🌟

And once again thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for letting me surf her brain through the storm ✨

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f1daydreamers · 3 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: guyssss!!!! ur support means the world, the sun, the moon, the solar system to me like everything!!! some of the comments u leave got me feeling like Y/N fr, big mwahs for u all! I made this part a little longer as an apology for making you wait for so long!

Warnings: more fluff, Trent slowly starting to open up methinks, angst, pressure, high-stress environment, very slow burn

Word Count: 3.1k words (11 mins reading avg)

…

You were seated at your desk, carefully closing the backs of the picture frame. You smiled as you secured the last clip, the image now safely enclosed behind the glass. It was a small comfort, one you could look at during the demanding days.

Before you had the chance to prop it up on your new cabinet, Lee entered with a folder in hand. You left your frame face-down as you stood up, and rounded your desk to greet him.

"Saw your email. Everything okay?"

Lee gave you a quick, apologetic smile as he handed you the folder. "Yeah. Won't be able to make the Man United game this weekend."

He handed you a folder emblazoned with the Man United logo, stuffed with the players' reports.

You raised an eyebrow, more concerned than curious. "That's unlike you. What's come up?"

He leaned against the edge of your desk, folding his arms. "Got to attend a family thing, non-negotiable. But that's not the only reason I'm here."

His tone shifted, more serious now. "I need you to step in and travel with the squad as the on-hand psychologist."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me? But... I mean, I usually handle things from here. Are you sure?"

Lee nodded, his expression firm. "I wouldn't ask if I wasn't. You've been great with some of the boys so far, and they trust you. This game is going to be intense, and they'll need your support. Plus, it's good for them to have some consistency, especially with me out."

It all made sense, but the reality of it hit hard. You’d only been here for two months, barely building trust through a handful of sessions a week. Now, being thrown into the deep end at Old Trafford for an away game just felt like career suicide.

You bit your lip, the weight of the responsibility starting to settle in. The thought of traveling with the team, being there in the thick of it, was both exciting and daunting.

"I don't know, Lee. What if-" Your voice wavered, playing with the corners of the folder in your hand.

"You'll be fine," he interrupted, his tone reassuring. "You're more than capable. And look, I'll only be a phone call away if you need anything."

You hesitated for a moment, the nerves swirling in your stomach. But deep down, you knew this was a chance you couldn't pass up. Lee believed in you and it was inevitable at one point.

"Okay," you finally said, taking a deep breath. "Sure."

Lee's face broke into a wide grin. "Good. I'll let the gaffer know and I'll make sure everything's arranged for you."

You nodded, watching as he left. The thrill of the weekend was tempered by the gnawing anxiety that you weren't ready, that you were diving headfirst into something you couldn't fully control. Sure, some of the boys had warmed up to you but others were still keeping you at arm's length.

You scoffed to yourself, more like just the one. You were walking a fine line with him and the last thing you wanted was to make things worse. In the heat of the moment, a sentence, an expression, a word could tick someone off.

You couldn't continue your train of thoughts, the folder staring up at you, waiting to be opened. With a steadying breath, you took a seat at your desk again and finally opened it, beginning to read through the reports.

...

The squad and staff gathered at the training ground, the usual pre-match energy heightened by the knowledge that today’s destination was Old Trafford.

You stood off to the side, watching the players mill around as they waited for the coaches to arrive, the hum of conversation and laughter blending with the distant noise of fans outside the gates.

You were trying to keep your own nerves in check, running through mental notes on the players, when Curtis sauntered over, a relaxed smile on his face.

“Bit of a madhouse out there." He said, nodding toward the entrance where the sound of chanting fans was growing louder.

“Just a bit,” you replied with a smile, honestly grateful for the distraction.

He chuckled, giving you a once-over. “You look a little tense. First time heading into enemy territory got you rattled?”

You gave him a mock glare, though the truth behind his teasing made you sigh. “Maybe a little. It’s just.. a lot. Big game, and I’m still getting used to being around everyone, let alone on a match day.”

Curtis leaned against the wall beside you, his expression softening. “I get it. But you’ve been solid with us. We’re glad you’re here, even if some of us” - he raised an eyebrow - “aren’t great at showing it.”

You smirked, knowing exactly who he was referring to.

“Trent?”

He grinned. “Nah, Wataru." You nudged his shoulder with your hand, and Curtis pushed himself off of the wall. His attention was directed back to the team as Arne brought everyone together.

"You're gonna smash it, see you in Manny." He flashed you a smile before jogging back over.

You adjusted your backpack currently slung over your shoulder, glancing up but accidentally catching Trent's eye across the large entryway.

He was standing a little apart from the others, his posture relaxed but with an air of deliberate composure. His hands were casually tucked into his pockets, and his usual stoic expression was softened by a hint of curiosity.

His gaze lingered on you longer than usual, more intent and thoughtful.

You offered him a shy smile, unsure of what to expect in return. Almost immediately, his eyes darted away, his expression tightening as he turned his attention back to the team.

A tinge of disappointment settled in your chest, but you didn’t have time to linger on it as the coach pulled into the parking space out front.

“You’ve got this. You’ve got this,” you whispered to yourself, as if it were a mantra, following the backroom staff out of the training ground.

…

The first half had been tightly contested, with neither team managing to score, leaving the game deadlocked at 0-0.

The only real highlight was Trent’s free kick from just outside the box - a powerful shot that flew high, curling away from the goal before soaring over the bar. The away fans held their breath in anticipation, only to exhale in disappointment as the ball missed its mark.

From the sidelines, you watched as Trent’s frustration grew more evident, his usual composure giving way to visible agitation.

Each missed opportunity seemed to fuel his irritation, and it was clear his emotions were beginning to take over.

You sighed as the referee jogged over after a hard tackle. The yellow card was raised high, and Trent’s reaction was a sharp scoff as he walked away, shooting a disdainful side-eye at the player he had just fouled.

The rival fans seized the moment, erupting in cheers and taunts that grew louder and more fervent.

Old Trafford lit up as the referees became hyper-aware of Trent, ready to penalise any further outbursts. Arne’s nervousness was palpable, and the backroom staff were on their feet, counting down to the halfway mark.

Trent was no longer just reacting to the game; he was actively seeking confrontations with the Man United players. His tackles were sharper, his verbal exchanges more heated.

The tension was building to a breaking point, but the halftime whistle blew just in time, bringing a collective sigh of relief from every member of Liverpool’s staff, whether at the training ground or in the stadium.

As you left your seat to head down the tunnel, Trent’s shoulder brushed against yours, his head lowered and skin glistening with sweat.

You noticed Arne watching him closely, his face a mask of concentration and concern, fully aware of how vital Trent was to the team’s strategy - and how disastrous a second yellow card could be.

...

As the halftime break drew to a near close, the tension in the dressing room was palpable. The players sat on the benches, catching their breath and nursing the aches of the first half.

Arne stood at the front, his arms crossed as he delivered his instructions, his tone firm but calm. You could see the focus in their eyes, the determination to turn the game around in the second half.

Just as he'd finished his tactical breakdown, he turned to you, walking over.

"I want you to say a few words," he said, his voice low.

"About?" You asked quietly, unaware of the boys' wandering eyes glancing between the two of you.

"Keeping their heads in the game. Any insights that might help them stay focused and.. you know, ease off the aggression."

You swallowed, nodding. "Yeah, okay."

The players' attention turned to you as you moved to the centre of the room, a mix of curiosity and expectation in their gazes. It was almost comical - this was the first time many of them were hearing you speak in a professional setting.

You cleared your throat, giving a quick glance to the clock hung on the wall.

You took a deep breath and began. “I know we don’t have much time, so I’ll be brief. We need to ease off on the aggressiveness." Trent, who had been staring at the floor, lifted his head slightly, his eyes now locked on you.

"We’re here to play our best football, to get the result we want and then move on. Allowing anger is only gonna distract you and hurt our performance. When you feel it bubbling up, just walk away and refocus yourself." You made an effort to connect with each player as you spoke, though deep down, you hoped your words would resonate with one in particular.

"Focus on what you can control - your passing, your tackles, your game.” A smirk tugged at Trent's lips before his head dipped again.

You scanned the room, noticing nods of understanding. “If you see a teammate getting heated, help them out."

Another breath, "push them away from the fight, back off, and concentrate on our tactics, not on the referee’s decisions or the United players. Don’t sulk on what went wrong. Learn from it and move on, yeah?"

Arne gave you a nod of appreciation as you wrapped up your little speech. "Alright, let’s make this second half count," you finished, your voice carrying a tinge of determination.

Virgil clapped twice, rallying the team as they stood and prepared to exit the dressing room. “Let’s go!” As they began filing out, you moved to the side to let them pass.

Trent was among the last to leave.

"Write me up next time," he muttered as he walked by, leaning in just enough for you to hear.

Your eyes involuntarily dropped to his lips before darting back up to meet his gaze. Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly composed yourself and responded.

"It was meant for everyone." You lied through your teeth.

He hummed in response, a subtle hint of amusement in his voice. "Sure," he said, not even glancing back as he walked out, leaving you with the undeniable sense that he knew exactly who your speech had been aimed at.

...

In the second half, Trent seemed lighter on his feet, more focused on the tactical aspects of the game and less caught up in the aggression that had marked his earlier play.

Liverpool had eventually secured a hard-fought 0-1 victory, with Salah scoring the winner from a beautifully timed assist by Trent. The away crowds erupted as the ball hit the back of the net, and the energy from that moment carried through until the final whistle.

As you watched him on the pitch, his frustration giving way to calm determination, you couldn’t help but wonder if your halftime words had played a part in that change.

Even a small part, that was more than enough to make you feel like you were on the right track.

The journey back to the training ground was a short one, the adrenaline from the win still buzzing among the team.

But by the time you arrived, the place had already started to empty out, with most of the team and staff having headed home to celebrate or rest.

The win had been sweet, but the quietness that greeted you at the training ground felt like a peaceful end to a very intense day.

You hadn’t intended to stay at the training ground as late as you did after returning, but with Kaia staying over at a friend’s house and the stack of unwritten reports waiting for your attention, you found yourself at your desk again.

The evening had unfolded into an unexpected work spell as you prepared for the upcoming sessions and tackled the never-ending paperwork.

The soft glow from your new office lamp created a cozy pool of light, the only sounds in the quiet room being the occasional rustle of papers and the gentle hum of the air conditioning.

Starting to nurse a headache, you rubbed your eyes carefully as to not smudge your makeup.

The words of practising what you preached echoed in your mind, working for hours on end without a break was hardly the advice you’d give to anybody.

So, you eventually pushed away from your desk and decided to step outside your office for a walk.

The halls were quiet and mostly vacant as you strolled, letting your mind drift and find a moment of peace.

You made your way to the large glass windows that stretched across both the first and second floors, providing a panoramic view of the training grounds below.

The evening sky was transitioning into deep blues, with the last hints of daylight fading.

Yet your gaze was drawn to a solitary figure on the pitch, illuminated by the few remaining lights.

It was him.

Even from this distance, his form was unmistakable as he set up a line of balls and readied himself for another round of free kicks. Instantly, you were reminded of earlier - his powerful shot that had soared over the bar.

Seeing him out there, still working hard, your shoulders slumped in realisation.

The scene was almost surreal, marked by the quiet dedication of a player refusing to call it a day.

You stood there in complete silence, taking in the sight as if it were a scene from a film - each deliberate movement and focused effort holding your rapt attention.

It was a side of him you hadn’t seen before. Alone and immersed in his own world, completely absorbed in his craft without a care for the outside distractions.

Deciding to join him, you headed out of the building and towards the pitch. The evening air was crisp, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of nearby trees.

You crossed your arms over your chest, maintaining a respectful distance as you approached. You hoped your presence would neither startle him nor prompt him to leave.

"Mind if I watch?" You asked, keeping your tone light and casual.

Trent glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned back to the pitch. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but no trace of annoyance.

"Suit yourself, psychologist," he replied, his voice steady. You nodded - guess that was good enough for you.

You watched as he rolled the first ball to his feet, his focus razor-sharp as he stopped it and took a few steps back.

The ball sailed through the air, curving beautifully into the top corner of the net. You couldn’t help but be impressed.

"That was perfect," you said, genuinely admiring his skill.

Trent shrugged, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just another shot."

"Give yourself more credit than that. It’s not easy," you countered. "I admire the dedication."

He glanced back at you. “Guess you’d know.”

“Sorry?” You asked, slightly confused.

Another shot.

“The picture in your office. You played once,” he remarked, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

You found yourself wondering when he had been in your office to notice the picture, then it clicked. He'd helped you assemble the cabinet where you later placed it.

He must've spotted it in one of the boxes.

You watched as he set up another ball, and somehow, in a way that only Trent could manage, that shot was even better than the last.

You scoffed lightly, dismissing the comparison. “Nowhere near your level, obviously. But you’re right, I guess I can imagine the passion. The pressure.”

You hoped your words were reaching him, echoing the sentiments he'd talked about in so many of his interviews.

He breathed out slowly. "So why psychology?" He asked, bending over to position the next ball.

"Because mental strength is just as important as physical ability," you explained. "I've seen talented players crumble under pressure, and others rise above it. The difference often comes down to how well they manage their minds."

Trent didn’t respond immediately. He set up another shot, this time, it hit the post with a loud thud.

Frustrated, he sighed.

You picked up the ball as it bounced near you, letting it roll between your hands before walking over to him. Once there, you dropped it to the ground, letting it settle by the side of your foot.

When he looked at you, his gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it.

You felt a flutter in your chest, the kind that made your stomach dip slightly. Your fingers curled into your palms, a subconscious effort to ground yourself as the moment stretched on.

“I know I’m just a stranger,” you began gently, your tone careful and steady.

“But I’m not here to push you and you don’t have to share anything with me. I just want you to know that if you ever feel like talking, we can - no titles, just two people who might understand each other.”

You added with a slight smile. “You’ll never know unless you give it a shot.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider something. You would’ve traded anything in to know what was going through his mind at that moment.

But he shook his head, glancing out over the pitch. “I’m good for now.”

“Okay,” you replied, giving the ball a gentle nudge, just enough to pass it to him. With a nod, you stepped back and turned towards the building, heading inside.

Before entering, you turned around, surprised to find him already watching you. “Thanks for hearing me out, yeah?”

You offered him a final smile before disappearing inside.

Trent’s gaze lingered on your retreating figure for a moment longer before he returned to his practice, a slight shift in his expression as he continued his routine.

...

Part 6

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx @vivi-grace @hoddystark @hiireadstuff @trentione @missusstark @iamasimpingh0e @xxxstormyninixxx @lolawwww22 @myloveisforbellingham @purpleniight @bffrwme @mss-nthng @miniemonie2001 @severebelearthquake @fireofsoul5 @greasywall @livelovepasta @bigdikzaddy

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wejustvibing · 4 months ago

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lewis has been working with dior - and other luxury brands that suck ass just as much because that whole industry is fucked - for ages, is doing whatever he's doing in hollywood, petronas, will work for john elkann next year, i could go on and on, there's no lesser evil

he puts his heart in what he does and i'm sure has 0 bad intentions but if you guys haven't realized by now that he wants to secure every damn bag he can, that he's performative and doesn't care to look too deep into anything if that prevents him from doing things he finds cool and will bring him money (from car racing to the f1 movie to a dior collection) then i don't think you were paying attention. he's been an avg celebrity for some time

well wearing a brand and attaching name to a brand are two vastly different things imo. he is associated with a formula 1 movie which i do believe is his area of expertise. again he drives for mercedes that was sponsored by petronas before he even got there. and what's the issue with driving for john elkann? you mean agnellis? and why?

intention is irrelevant when you deep the impact. just because idgaf about average celebrity doesn't mean idgaf about lewis. i want him to secure the damn bag too. there's nothing wrong with having financial ambitions. i hope he becomes a billionaire and soon. many other "evil" brands have a better reputation and "intention" tbh he could have easily gone for those. but anyway 🤷🏾‍♀️

#anonymous

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ilovedthestars · 1 year ago

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Murderbot Fic Rec List: Ghosts

October is approaching, and it seems like a good time of year for some ghost stories!! (These are not all horror, and some aren’t even scary—if you’re looking for actual chills I’m not the person to go to, lol. These are just stories with ghosts.)

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday by TheSteelChimera 638 words, Teen And Up, Creator Chose Not To Warn

Ghosts aren't real, all evidence points to the fact that human superstition is just that, superstition.But wormholes are strange places, and the MNTS Perihelion knows that ghost ships are very real.

A ghost story featuring ART, and the last echoes of lost ships. The mysteries of wormhole physics are a perfect explanation for hearing voices in the void. I also highly, highly recommend the podfic by DevilWithABirdDress, which has some echoes and effects that absolutely enhance the spooky atmosphere.

Ill Omen by avg 5,511 words, General Audiences, Creator Chose Not To Warn & No Archive Warnings Apply

Despite the positive attributes of a ship ghost, there is one omen associated with its presence: no member of a ship blessed by its presence shall ever set eyes on it. It only ever becomes visible to the crew of a doomed ship.

An alternate universe ASR where Murderbot is a ghost!! Binding souls to survey habitats as a security service is absolutely something the company would do if it had that capability. Supernatural suspense and haunting as protection—the fantasy/sci-fi flavor of this one is very cool.

The Stowaway by Masu_Trout 2,712 words, Teen And Up, No Archive Warnings Apply

I wasn't even worried. That, I think, was my first mistake. Far outside of Corporation Rim, Murderbot meets a cargo bot with a strange story to tell.

A gem from wayyy back in the archive, published in 2017 when only ASR was out, but still impressively consistent with the tone of where the series has gone! Murderbot hears a ghost story that it doesn’t really believe, but then again…. This one also has a podfic available. the past is no forgotten promise by lunaTactics 1,942 words, General Audience, No Archive Warnings Apply

"It should have been creepy. I had been in places like this that were really creepy. But this wasn't. Maybe because I knew where the humans and augmented humans who had last used this ship had gone, that their descendants were running around all over this system." How can the ghosts of the past be frightening when they love, and are loved? Remember us. We are a promise to you that there will always be hope. You are home. The ghosts of the Pressy speak to their successors. Or, Murderbot is empowered to pursue the ideal SecUnit's rescue because Preservation's ideals support it.

A heartwarming ghost story, to finish off the list. Sometimes ghosts aren’t trying to scare you or keep you away—they want to welcome you home. This one gives me emotions (enough that I made art about it) and also has a podfic available.

If you have any favorite ghost stories from the Murderbot fandom, or otherwise spooky/seasonally-appropriate ones, please feel free to add on other recommendations! There’s several that I haven’t read myself but have heard many good things about.

#murderbot #the murderbot diaries #murderbot fanfic #fic rec list #ghost stories #stars has thoughts #these are all quite tame in terms of scariness because i am a wimp #we also have some very good horror fic i am told #but i do not partake in it lol

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alsadeekalsadouk · 27 days ago

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In 97 AD, Emperor Nerva adopted Marcus Ulpius Traianus, known as Trajan, as his heir due to Nerva’s unpopularity with the military and a revolt by the Praetorian Guard. Trajan was a distinguished general, which made him a favorable choice for securing military support. This adoption marked the beginning of the Nerva–Antonine dynasty, which included five emperors known for their effective governance and prosperity. Trajan later became renowned for expanding the Roman Empire to its greatest territorial extent

Aureus Description: Trajan Pater and Nerva. AD 98-117. (7.02 g,). Rome mint. Struck around AD 112-113. Scripted: IMP TRAIANVS AVG GER DAC P M TR P COS VI P P, laureate, draped, and cuirassed bust right / DIVI • NERVA • ET • TRAIANVS • PAT, laureate bust of Nerva right, slight drapery and bareheaded and draped bust of Trajan the Elder left. #archaeology #history #ancient #art #Caesar #ancienthistory #archaeological #rome #italy #roman_empire #roma #heritage #roman_republic #archaeologylife #Orichalcum #Roman_mythology #italia #medallion #romancoin #romanarcheology #romanancientcoins#aureus #denarius #dupondius #follis #antoninianus #sestertius #fils #alsadeekalsadouk #الصديق_الصدوق

Image copyright: https://www.khm.at/objektdb/detail/1060087

#history #archaeology #photography #greek coins #culture #palestrina #roman coins #travel #sidon saida tyre beirut phoenician الصديق_الصدوق #الصديق_الصدوق #nerva #Trajan

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teramancers-devlog · 3 months ago

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Type/A : Thunder Type/B : Psycho Diet: Unknown Avg. Height: 5'10"/178 cm

"A strange enigmatic Teraform of unknown origin. They are known to gather near radio towers at night, though the reason for this has yet to be determined. When near radio-receiving devices speech-like auditory patterns can be heard through forms of interference. Due to this and many other observed behaviors, Radaloo are believed to have a similar level of intelligence to humans." - Dr. Neil Ayerg

"Despite their clunky appearance, Radaloo are remarkably light and fast. They have been observed to move at speeds so fast that the most advanced cameras and motion sensors could not detect them. Though the majority of the scientific community do not respect many of my own findings, I believe there is reasonable evidence to suggest these creatures being of extraterrestrial origin such as the few x-rays I've secured revealing a fleshy, nervous system-esque internal body hidden beneath the robotic metal exterior. DNA sequencing has been fruitful in this hypothesis as well, revealing no relatives found on earth." - Anne Dromeda

Dunno what it is about this guy in particular, but from the day I drew his sprite he's been my favorite. Something about the goofy stance, swirl eyes, and big dumb head antenna just scratches something in my brain I can't fully describe.

#90s #indie games #jrpg games #teramancers #monster #pixel art #gaming #gamedev #gbc #pokemon #teramancersanniversaryweek

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kayover · 2 years ago

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ame boss battle details

I never really elaborated for this on my insta. I just posted it w/o context. but okay so. it might start out with Ame acting crazy like.. He would start talking about brand sponserships and cryptocurrency and generally sound insane. The player's like "USA you're crazy, snap out of it" and then he gets incredibly defensive saying he's the nation of freedom and all the good things he's done for the world. A little typical of the avg American, but geez does he need to snap outta it. Battle engages. But there are a ton of different waves with security guards and agents and it's just annoying af at the beginning since Ame don't take any damage. Very corrupt, eh.

The player might go solo or have a team of 4 countries/organizations of their choice, ex. Canada, Australia, China, EU.

NATO, FBI and other American organizations are possible to add to the party, but when the boss battle is actually against Ame himself with all the glorified symbols of murica, they will back down. There are three buffs, as shown over the health bar.

MONEY BUFF - it lets Ame regen a ton, deal some pretty heavy hits, and increase his stats (ex. DEF, ATK, SPEED, LUCK, etc.) However, throughout the fight it gradually gets exhausted, as the more all of that jazz is used, the more money is spent obviously. At some point, the money buff will expire/need heavy cooldown. If Ame chooses to keep using money he can't supply, it leads to a stupid lil DEBT... aura, which quickly chips away at his health/stamina. There's a whomp, whomp, whooooomp... sound effect too. If you choose to MOCK him, he has a way higher chance of doing this + other more stupid indecisive financial decisions that hurt him more rather than help him (EU and UK have that skill, sassy mfs)

NATO BUFF - A little self-explanatory, but Ame can phone up another nation and ask for items or battle help. Cannot call up NATO countries in the player's team. To get over it, you have to render all their attempts ineffective, either through brute force or some more secret, underground methods. If the player has NATO in their team, then whoops, he backs down and the buff stats are multiplied by 2x. So yeah, while NATO would probably be generally a kind of a weird multi role dps dealer/tank in the supposed imaginary videogame, in some fights he's just completely useless. He's eating french fries in the corner and muttering "sorry guys, that's my boss, can't fight him." If the player gets over this buff somehow, Ame yells and complains about how useless NATO is and the buff expires.

COCA COLA BUFF - Aight so Ame's stamina is drained throughout the fight, but using coca cola or any other soda/drink (like sprite, pepsi, etc.) he can regain it. Pretty simple, honestly. and there's a pretty simple solution. STEAL that coke stash, but make sure whoever doing it is sneaky. I would say steal that money too, but he has that e-currency.

If you defeat him, you get uhhhh... 10 million usd (less depending on the buff's use). 100,000 EXP for your team. Several super rare item drops. AME'S SUNGLASSES; +95 LUCK and +35 SPEED and +45 ATK. A pat on the back. An achievement. Boom bam.

#countryhumans #countryhumans usa #countryhumans america #gaming !!!!#countryhumans nato #to an extent #i am in shambles

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lip-scrub · 9 months ago

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realizing im caught in a weird spot rn with my future. i want to be a professional makeup artist, and work on clients and models. at first i thought being a cosmetologist or an esthetician would be a cool profession but i dont Really focus on makeup. with cosmetology i learn mainly hair, with some nails and skin sprinkled in. being an esthetician u learn skin, but mainly skin treatments and massages, but not much makeup.

i like to watch vloggers of girls attending beauty school to try and get a vibe of what its like to attend a school like that, and i havent seen anyone do makeup Once. and i also realized, w my ocd, i dont wanna touch ANYONES body, not even just the models that come in for demonstration.

i found a makeup academy however that is makeup with some hair styling. i wanna do that! but now my family is worried about how that will be sustainable for me. it is true the avg freelance mua isnt making bank and rolling in cash. and if im sick/injured, i dont get paid for that day off.

also in pennsylvania u dont need/get a license to be an mua, but u do need a license to be an esthetician or a cosmetologist. and if im licensed, im more likely to be hired somewhere with my skills and qualifications. im not sure how accessible it is being Only an mua i can secure steady income.

so heres my idea: i go get my license (idk what i wanna study yet) snd then go to the makeup specialist school. but idk if the money i have will be accepted to the makeup school. and idk if i wanna go to school twice 🫠

if any of u are/know a make up artist, esthetician, a cosmetologist, can i have some advice?

#lindsay talks #long read ik

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cottonlemonade · 1 month ago

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Haunted House

word count: 883 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: Sakusa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: none

request: watching Nightmare Before Christmas with some caramel popcorn dressed as a witch with Sakusa || fluffy, going to a Haunted House with boyfriend Sakusa

Going to the Halloween Fair was a tradition that no amount of annoyed sighs and fake pleading glances from your boyfriend could derail.

You loved October and marked the occasion in your calendar well in advance.

Under a lot of protest and promises of watching horror movies with him only to pick them apart for their inaccuracies, Sakusa - black mask securely in place - eventually piled into the car with your friends. It wasn‘t as if he didn‘t like them but he liked them a whole lot less when they were loudly singing along to Spooky Scary Skeletons on your way to the fair.

As soon as you made it through the entrance, discussing which you wanted to hit first - the snack stand or seeing if you could persuade Sakusa to rent a couple's costume with you, someone ran towards you and skidded to a halt.

“Y/n! Good that you‘re here! We‘re one person short for the haunted house!“

“Huh!?“ Your eyes widened - during your high school days, you helped out every year with the fair all the way from ticket ripper to face painting. Being a monster in the haunted house was an honor and when you were finally appointed zombie number 4 for the first time, you raced home to call Sakusa with the amazing news.

“I‘m here with someone.“, you frowned apologetically, pulling your boyfriend closer for emphasis. He raised his hand to greet as if necessary.

“Please, we’re desperate! And you don’t have to do it all night. If you could just stall for an hour until the substitute makes it here…”

You met Sakusa’s eyes who tried to read your expression for if you wanted him to play the bad guy and tell you no or if you wanted support. It seemed like the latter.

“One hour isn’t too bad.”, he said in a low tone with a slight shrug, “I’ll just look around what other things we can do and make a list for when you’re done.”

“You sure?”

He nodded.

You got on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek and then left with a sad theatrical wave as though taking to the high seas.

Luckily, the costume for your necessary character was very loose to begin with. Playing a classic Japanese ghost, you needed a white flowy dress and a wig of long straight black hair. Minus the wig and unappetizing makeup though, the dress was a lot more fitted on your much chubbier figure. You turned in the dirty mirror in the second corridor of the house, thinking this outfit would definitely not be out of place at a summer garden party, but it was the best you could do under the circumstances. You just had to dial up the creepiness. One by one you made people scream in terror and run panicked to the next room. Proudly, you cleared your throat and went to the break room after half an hour for a quick sip of water - wheezing, screeching, and chasing after guests really took a lot out of a person. As you gulped down the soothingly cold drink you spotted your boyfriend amongst your group of friends, clearly having been dragged to join a round at the haunted house and excitement bubbled in your chest. Sakusa was not easily spooked. The closest to scared you had ever seen him was when he spotted a bug sitting menacingly on your living room coffee table during the summer when the screen door was open.

The most terrifying thing for him about this experience would be getting close to people - you chuckled at the thought and an idea formed in your head. You grabbed a little spray bottle with water from the prop pile on the table and returned to your post.

Most of your friends didn’t recognize you while you made them run for the hills. Your best friend went “hi Y/n”, gave you a high five, and moved on. Before she left she informed you that Sakusa was not far behind.

You pressed yourself with hunched shoulders into the blind spot close to the entering door and waited.

You heard the next guest enter and when he passed you in the half-darkness you identified the black curls and broad tall frame in an instant. The giddiness almost made you dizzy. Sakusa stood still for a moment, most likely letting his eyes adjust before pushing forward. In those precious few seconds, you snuck up behind him and, just like earlier, stood on your tiptoes, bringing your lips close to his ear, spray bottle raised. Channeling all your acting skills you imitated a loud wet sneeze, spritzing a bit of water on his neck at the same time.

If you’d had to guess, you wouldn’t have said that Sakusa’s screams would be this high-pitched. Nor that he jumped so high into the air that he knocked down a plastic spider with his head.

All professionalism left your body and you doubled over, wheezing with laughter. Your boyfriend clutched his chest and breathed heavily on the opposite wall. “Oh you think this is funny?”, he pressed out, making you only snort and cackle even more. “Just you wait!” You yelped in delight as he chased you down the corridor for his revenge.

art: @oknbird on Twitter

a/n: request for @liquidcatt

Thank you so much for the request! This was so much fun to write 🌟 I hope you enjoyed it! 🫶🏻

#sunnys movie night #sakusa x chubby reader #sakusa kyoomi x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x curvy reader #sakusa kyoomi x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa x you

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