#Back in May 2005

[adaptations-polls]

Which version of this do you prefer?

[theflyingfeeling]

I would like to thank that one band and that one hockey player for single-handedly giving me reasons to keep going when I had 'cry + feel pathetic + hate yourself' scheduled on my calendar from this day forward until the end of everything

[unreliablesnake]

I think I wouldn't be who I am today if it wasn't for the Holy Trinity (Clarkson, May, and Hammond.)

[skitskatdacat63]

2023 Testing - Day 3, Session 1 - Fernando Alonso

[sophbun]

thanks to the new game I like to imagine shadow as a barista but when he’s on dishwashing duty he blasts his “relaxation” playlist which is 50% death metal and the other half are just other assorted genres of angry and chaotic music because it prevents him from blowing up the place. Everybody else can hear his muffled playlist. It clashes with the jazzy coffee shop music the store plays but his coworkers are too scared to tell him to stop.

everytime i think of shadow and music i always think of that 2005 interview with him in a magazine where he states he owns an ipod which fuels my hc that he sits at home, rips his cds into flacs and listens to them on his ipod. hed probably listen to them so loud you can hear them through his headphones tho and its confusing bc he looks so calm yet his music sounds like stuff ud listen to at the gym to hype urself up or to like. kill someone sgjireojgoierjesoksg

[emily-mooon]

Hello again shoujo manga protag Nancy Wheeler

[shadowxamyweek]

It’s interesting having been around this fandom for over two decades now and seeing so much art of Shadow grieving over Maria still. My brain is in parts over this XD

On the one hand, Shadow is more than just his grief. Though Maria and his tie to her does influence his decisions and motivations, it’s not the only thing in existence that drives him anymore.

On the other... I don’t think what Shadow did at the end of ShTH WAS actually letting go. I think that was a rushed attempt to chill his emotions and cut that part of him away from himself. Grief doesn’t work like that though. You have to go through it.

(In which case, to the above points... of course he’d then still be obsessing over it. The child needs therapy. We all agree on this.)

Lastly, and like, the actual real-world thing, the part that brings me joy in this, is that new fans to Sonic who didn’t know what Shadow’s backstory was now get to experience it fresh. You get to learn about Maria dying in the good year 2023. In fact, you may get to see it on film if the 3rd Sonic Movie has the nerve and clearance to show it!

And I’m excited! It’s a gut-wrenching moment! Now you get to suffer with the rest of us in the Knowingヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ

[sandymybeloved]

Excuse me but why didn't I know this existed before

I mean possibly becuase it isn't very good, but thats not the point

the point is I was scrolling through TARDIS wiki, as you do, when I came across a minisode I had never heard of before, went to the article to get other information to see if I could find it and

[ID: screenshot of a TARDIS wiki article reads "Either way this was Russell T Davies' first contribution to a piece of live action Doctor Who as he also served as script editor for the story." \end ID]

This is RTDs first televised doctor who story??!?!??!??!!!! Why hadn't I heard of it before???

(if you're confused about the places listed, this was made in 1989 to promote the The Ultimate Adventure, which was touring at the time)

[smoreal]

This is SUPER rushed and semi-edited, but I wrote it in a frenzy bc I just couldn’t stop thinking about sonic movie 3 lmao… so beware?? It’s pretty lengthy lol

(Also sorry in advance bc I might get into a horrible habit of writing a bunch of these)

What the rating for sonic movie 3 could mean for the narrative and which direction the movie could go depending on the rating…

The rating changed from shth05 from the usual ‘E’ (Everyone) to ‘E 10+’ (Everyone 10 and Older), meaning that they were a little more liberated to go into detail about his past and his memories with Maria before she was killed on the Ark. The game further expanded on the darker and more ‘gritty’ perspective of Shadow the Hedgehog. Before it’s release though, shth was meant to be rated T (13 and older) with the initial version containing ‘red blood, violent scenes, and more instances of cursing.’ [(X) and (X)]

Sonic Movie 3 is currently slated for release in December of 2024 (x), but word from the directors and screenwriters have many concerned over how faithful to the games this movie will be because of Maria’s death scene. As well as wanting an accurate portrayal of Shadow the hedgehog for the first time since, debatably his portrayal in Sonic 06, fans look forward to seeing his backstory on the big screen.

Media ratings from the early 2000s were vastly different from the ratings of today. A subtle joke about sex would surely fly over children’s heads and could be aired on a Saturday morning cartoon, but no such thing could happen under today’s scrutinized media.

All of this to say… will Maria Robotnik be shot and killed on screen by an organization mirroring the government? There could be many different routes this option could take, and I list them now:

1.) PG/Heavily Implied Route

2.) PG-13/Realistically pull some punches

3.) Change the narrative completely

I start with what I believe to be the most probable option, based on the creators and writers desire to “incorporate elements from Sonic Adventure 2 and Shadow the Hedgehog.” (X)

Option 1: PG Route. As previously stated within its title, I’m certain of this route because of the options ability to stay within the PG rating and keep the narrative faithful to the games by letting the audience imply, as SA2 and Sonic X has done in the past. Disappointing as this option may be, it manages to stay within the established rating of the movie franchise and continue to stick with the games’ plot. However, a massive problem arises; how to imply such a disturbing and gruesome, but vital event whilst staying within these (frankly restrictive) ratings. I emphasize on the previously used ‘disappointment,’ as the implication may be lost on the general audience and with this loss, comes the loss of the overall theme of organizational workings and the very blunt reality of corrupt military organizations within our society.

And to stay true to both games, I introduce the second (subjectively best) option.

Option 2: Raising the rating from PG to PG-13. With this option, I believe the writers and directors can expand on the potential of both games and re-establish Shadow to his former glory, a character who once had concrete values and beliefs. Knuckles was able to regain his initially established honor and dignity within the latest installment of the movie franchise, as his character (like everyone else’s) had been the victim of flanderization and had been molded to fit more of a Comedic Relief character instead of a nuanced, three dimensional character.

With this new rating, creators have the space to expand on Shadow’s character, more specifically his morals and dilemma therein. In being able to see Maria’s death, and see Shadow at his most violent, the audience gets to understand or even empathize further with his character. An additional benefit to this rating change could be the general audience’s view on Sonic the Hedgehog as an overall franchise. It could inspire the Sonic gaming franchise to potentially follow up on lost possibilities of older games (wishful thinking) or create more nuanced and complex storylines such as what came of SA2.

Option 3: Changing the narrative completely. Objectively the worst option for both the audience and the writers/creators, this option has the writers/creators completely erasing Maria’s death and the corruption of (military) organizations to stay safely within the PG rating. In erasing Maria’s death, Shadow and, his creator, Gerald Robotnik would be stripped of their motivations for vengeance. However with this option, there are also two possible sub-options.

3A.) Maria still dies, not by anyone’s hand, but by her own illness, perhaps during the Raid on the Ark, causing a miscommunication to occur.

3B.) Maria does not exist.

As infuriating as both of these options are, they are very well options that could become Sonic Movie 3’s reality.

For option 3A, Maria dying by her illness would still create motivations for Shadow and Gerald, as the Raid would have ruined all of their work and the blame of GUN would be significantly less than in the original games. Perhaps this option could be better constructed, using the miscommunication to create even more conflict with both Shadow and Gerald Robotnik’s motivations, and Shadow’s final motivations in the game.

However, the worst option of the worst option is 3B. In erasing Maria’s character, Shadow’s very soul and Gerald’s strongest motivator goes with her. Shadow’s character, motivations, and actions all lack a significant reason and he becomes more of an Android than a tragic, empathetic, 3-dimensional character. Gerald Robotnik would become a descendant of Eggman who is just as selfish and egotistical (further taking Eggman’s potential to be seen as someone who strived to do Good as the original Gerald Robotnik did before Maria’s death, but let me get back on track)

With Maria’s erasure, Shadow’s character and Gerald’s reasons become corrupt. Both characters become forgettable and, worst of all, stray the farthest away from the source material, ultimately dooming the movie and possibly the franchise.

Both Sonic movies have done a lot for Sonic as a gaming franchise, and seeing the success of both franchises within the same year is very promising for the Blue Blur. As happy as I’d be to see a rating change, I must stress that I’d be content with whatever they decide to do. They’ve already expressed the want to stay faithful to the source material and we’ve managed to get two successful movies so far, so I’d say we’re in semi?? safe hands from a general audience standpoint.

[the20thangel]

The Labor of Our Fruits

Summary: Tumblr Request!: A Targaryen reader. She and Benji didn't get off on the right foot because it was an arranged marriage, but Benji loves her but is scared to show it. The reader is pregnant, and because Benji has been ignoring her when she goes into labor, she begs Benji to not let her die, and he feels terrible thinking she would think something like that. But ending happily with their little baby boy.

tags: childbirth, angst, fluff

Word count: 2005

(this is an x reader fanfic but just with a name)

Daella grimaced, feeling immense pressure as the maester pressed down on her stomach. She wished her mother’s healers were here instead of this maester, but she was far from home, far from her mother and brothers and step-sisters, far from the comforts of Dragonstone and the sounds of dragons roosting around the island. She realistically knew all she needed to do was ask to get what she wanted, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Since their marriage night, she hardly spoke to her husband, Lord Benjicot Blackwood. How can she just go up and ask him to tell him to send for the healers from Dragonstone? 

Her marriage… was strange; that was the only way she could describe it. To ensure House Blackwood kept their alliance with her mother, Daella was brought to Raventree Hall to marry its new lord. He was not cruel, her lord husband, but distant. She did not know if having a distant husband was better or worse. In some cases better, because he never forced himself on her or commanded her to do things that might have made her uncomfortable. She greatly appreciated him for doing that; he was already better than her uncle Aegon.

On the other hand, having a distant husband was worse. She was lonely, growing a babe of a man she hardly knew, proudly doing her duty for her mother and husband but drowning in her isolation. She laughed at the gods' cruel joke. Was she turning out to be like her ancestor Daella, daughter of Good Queen Alysanne, who bore her grandmother Aemma only to die without holding her babe? 

Daella groaned quietly as the maester finished evaluating her. She sat up as the doors of the bed chamber opened, revealing her husband, Benjicot. Walking into the chamber, he saw the maester packing his bag. Benjicot quickly walked to his wife, pausing before her, unsure if he should hold her hand. Ultimately, he stood by her, watching her fidget with her dress. 

“How are they?” he asked the maester. 

“Both mother and child are progressing wonderfully, my lord; we should expect the babe to come any minute now.” stated the maester, bowing to the lord and princess as he walked out of the room. 

Daella swallowed; she did not know what to do now, such was most the case with her. She mainly floated around the castle, careful not to be in anybody’s way. Knowing that made her seem weird, she heard the whispers as the people spoke about the odd Targaryen girl their lord was forced to marry. 

Benjicot stared at his beautiful wife, wishing he could know her thoughts. His marriage was a quiet one. Both hardly spoke to each other, only short sentences here and there. His aunt urged him to make more effort to express his love to Daella, but he just didn’t know how. He was not good at romance, feeling more comfortable in battles. He also never wanted to be the husband who would force his wife to do actions she may not like. So he tried to give her space, allowing her to grow accustomed to her new home. 

Swallowing away his nervousness, he decided to try to make a small conversation. 

“How are you feeling?” asked Benjicot, seeing how Daella jumped in surprise, looking at him with her soft purple eyes. Oh, how he could get lost staring at them all day. 

“Tired… my lord,” whispered Daella, smiling at him, not wanting to seem rude at his genuine worry.

Benji smiled back, “Would you like to rest before supper, or could I have the servants bring supper to the chambers?” 

“I think I will rest a little and then meet you there,” Daella said, looking at his nervous smile. 

Benjicot nodded. Feeling awkward, he turned to leave, but before thinking about it, he turned back to Daella. 

“Should you want or need anything these last few days, all you need to do is ask, and I will try my best to provide it to you,” Benji promised as he reached to caress her cheek, only stopping mere inches away. Again, feeling unsure if she would accept his touch, He chose to walk away and leave the room. 

Daella, with great sadness, watched her husband leave her alone again in the chamber. Once the door closed, she let a small tear flow freely down her cheek. 

“I wish to go home,” whispered Daella, closing her eyes as she stroked her belly. Only allowing a smile to softly stretch on her face as she felt her babe kick her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following day, Benji woke up earlier than previous ones. He had to ride out for a few days and needed to check in with the village. As he turned, he could not help but smile at the sight before him. He loved seeing his wife sleeping, seeing her in the most relaxing state. She always wore a smile on her face as her hands lay on top of her stomach. She was a beauty, and he wished he could show more of his feelings towards her. He wants to build his relationship with her but always becomes too nervous to act anything out.  Leaning down to provide a small kiss on her forehead. He made a vow that once he returned, he would start to show more effort in his marriage so that when their babe entered this world, they would have parents who were openly affectionate with each other. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daella grew restless. Benji had been gone for a few days and was not due to return for another two days. She was trying her best to take over the castle duties, but she kept having cramps. Her babe was not due yet, so Daella started worrying. Was there something she was doing wrong? Was she harming her baby? She groaned from another cramp as a passing servant, recognizing the signs of labor, gasped and ran to the princess.

“My princess, how long have you been feeling these pains?” questioned the servant girl as she led the princess back to the chambers.

Daella exhaled, feeling the cramp alleviate for a second, “Since last night… I think..” groaning from another wave of cramps. 

“Princess, you are in labor, we need…. Someone fetch the maester. The princess is in labor!” shouted the servant girl to the nearest guard, who frantically nodded, running to do his bidding. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The castle was in chaos; the pained screams of Daella echoed in the halls as servants entered and left the princess’s chambers. Daella was lying in bed, watching the maester and midwives converse quietly. Her babe was taking too long to leave her body. She knew what the maester wanted to do… he wanted to cut the babe free from her body. She shook in fright; she did not want to die in the labor bed. She did not want to follow the path of her namesake and her grandmother, Aemma.  She wanted to live, not ready to enter the realm of Balerion. 

“We need to wait for Lord Benjicot to decide…” whispered the midwife, trying to stall the maester from doing anything drastic. 

“If we wait too long, there might not be anyone left to save.” argued the maester, looking back at the bleeding princess. 

Daella closed her eyes as she wept; she wanted her mother, she wanted Benji, and she prayed to the gods to have mercy on her and her baby. 

As if the gods were listening, the doors opened with a bang, and people gasped. A muddy Benjicot ran into the room, scanning for Daella, and saw her breathing heavily on their bed. 

“My lord, the birthing room is no place…” began the maester as Benjicot ignored him, running to take his wife’s hand in his. 

“Daella..” whispered Benji, moving some white hair away from her face.

Daella smiled painfully at her husband. She needed to be a dragon, and she would fight for her life. 

“Benji, please, please don’t let him do it to me…” pleaded Daella as she let tears stream down her face. 

Benjicot looked at his wife in confusion. What was causing her so much stress?

Turning to the maester and midwives, he asked them what was happening to his wife. The maester walked up to the lord as he explained that the babe was taking too long to leave the princess's stomach. Proposing that the best option to save the future heir of House Blackwood was to cut the babe out of the princess's body.

 Daella, sobbing, reached for Benji's hand as she pleaded, “Please don't let them cut me. I do not wish to die yet.”

Benjicot, heartbroken at seeing her in such a state, leaned down to kiss her forehead and whisper comforting words to her. 

“Shh, my love, I would never do such a thing to you…” 

“My lord, if we don’t, we risk losing the ba-” 

“Remove this man out of my sight before I turn and run my sword across his stomach,” growled Benjicot, shooting daggers at the gaping maester being led out by the guards. 

Benji turned to the midwives and pleaded, “Please, is there any way to save them both?” 

The midwives nodded, “It’s the princess’s first, babe. She has grown tired of using all her energy to push out. We can help her by pushing on her stomach as she pushes herself. It will be painful, but it is the best chance to save both mother and child.” 

Benjicot nodded, letting himself be led to sit behind her, pressing his hand on her stomach as Daella continued to sob. 

“When we ask the princess the push, we will need you, my lord, to push your hands downward with all your might. Even if she screams in agony, you push down. We cannot risk the babe getting stuck.” commanded the head midwife, waiting for him to agree. 

Once the young lord agreed, the midwives all went to their positions. Looking at him, they started to command the princess to start pushing. Benji, in turn, also pressed his hands on her stomach, feeling her body warp. Daella screamed in agony, feeling like her body was ripping in half. She wanted them to stop but knew that if she wanted to live, she needed to continue to push. Praying to the goddesses Meleys and Shrykos, she pleaded for them to hear her, asking for a safe, open road for her babe’s birth. 

Benjicot continued to press down as he kissed Daella's crown, feeling proud of her courage and bravery during this upsetting situation. She was indeed a dragon princess, not letting herself falter. He decided to express his thoughts as he continued to help her push. 

“That’s it, my love, you are doing wonderful; you are almost there, Daella, don’t give up… I know you can,” he whispered to her ear, his heart breaking at every scream she let out. 

Daella, even though tired, felt empowered by her husband’s words, inhaling she gave one last push. She will live, she will not die in this bed, and she will get to see her child grow up. 

With one last scream and push, the baby boy left his mother’s body, wailing to the world. Daella started crying at seeing her son. He was beautiful, with his father’s black hair and pale skin like hers. He was placed on her chest as she wrapped her arms around his tiny body. Benji, too, started crying at seeing his son, something that showed a promise of the love he was willing to show to his wife. 

As the young heir nuzzled his mother’s chest, he briefly opened his eyes, showcasing a beautiful purple color—the very ones Benjicot adored on his wife. Feeling overwhelmed, he rocked the baby and mother into his arms. 

“You did wonderful, Daella. You were amazing,” he praised his princess, kissing her cheek and continuing to rock them. 

Daella smiled as she leaned into her husband’s embrace, feeling she was finally home. 

[vilsoo]

‎ 𝑽𝑰𝑳𝑺𝑶𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑺…

‎ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 ‎ ‎ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧… 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫!

‎ 𖤐 ORDER YOUR TICKETS HERE 𖤐 ‎ ֺ [ taglist ]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘; 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘… Inspired by Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights, indulge in sex and horror galore at our premiere Kinktober event, HORRORLAND! Would you dare venture our haunted houses, experience our exhilarating attractions, and uncover the scandalous, deadly mysteries of Horrorland?

fandoms: jujutsu kaisen, spiderman atsv, fnaf, re4, codmw2.

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

ㅤ ↓ 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 (𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓) ↓

FRIDAYS🩸 we welcome our fellow monster fuckers into this territory! deadly creatures preying on their victims, serving their lustful fantasies with wild, animalistic urges! your arousal and fear may provoke them further, so beware of the woods…

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟒𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ❞ starring GHOST!LEON KENNEDY (re4)

who is this irresistible creature who has an insatiable love for the dead… and ghosts?

⚠︎ CW: mentions of stalking, slight ooc leon, angst, hurt/comfort, haunted vacation home, voyeurism, paranormal activity, sex with a ghost, gentle → rough smut, mirror sex, switchy!leon, 1980s setting.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟏𝟖𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑���� ❞ starring WEREWOLF!MIGUEL O’HARA (atsv)

during the bloodmoon on halloween, your werewolf boyfriend feels a rapacious urge to knock you up.

⚠︎ CW: established relationship, miguel in heat, rough sex, soft sex, marking, biting, possession, breeding, knotting, impregnating, degrading/praising, power struggle, multiple orgasms, 1980s setting.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟐𝟓𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 ❞ starring RYOMEN SUKUNA (jjk)

a camping trip you planned with your friends turns out to be a total nightmare, all caught on camera…

⚠︎ TW: suspense, horror/thriller themes, gruesome murder, gore, ritual sex, demon sex, satanism, sadism, betrayal, teratophilia, size kink, double penetration, plot twist, ib the blair witch project (1999), 1980s setting.

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SATURDAYS 🍷 the depths of hell fall on this dark and gloomy city bound to corruption and sin, known as the devil’s playground! lurking within the streets beholds the prurient reigns of terror that which may also arouse parkland guests…

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟓𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ❞ starring NANAMI KENTO (jjk)

with you and your boyfriend being a regular at this fancy restaurant, the owner became very fond of you…

⚠︎ TW: cannibalism, chef/restaurant owner nanami, poisoning, murder, infidelity/cheating, eventual smut, kitchen sex, unprotected sex, jealousy, dark obsession, slight stalking, gore, mutilation.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟏𝟐𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 ❞ starring WILLIAM AFTON (fnaf)

as the new intern and your boss developing a dark obsession over you, he feels the need to corrupt you…

⚠︎ TW: dubcon, mind control (glitchtrap virus), sadism, murder, psychological abuse, manipulation, predator/prey dynamic, implied age gap, degradation, eventual rough smut, mentions of vanny mask.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟐𝟔𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐄 ❞ starring CHOSO (jjk)

accidentally bringing a girl back from the dead may have been horrifying, but falling in love with her..?

⚠︎ CW: horror/romcom themes, implied necrophilia (NO intercourse), college au, accidental ritual, romance, mentions of murder, suggestive smut, inspired by lisa frankenstein (2024) and corpse bride (2005).

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FOR OUR HALLOWEEN SPECIAL . . . not only are you immersed into the stories of our attractions, you get the real experience of being a parkland guest having a fun time at Horrorland with friends! but as thrilling as it all sounds, there are many scandals and articles of what really goes down…

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟑𝟏: ❝ 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋? ❞ HEADLINE: PARKLAND VISITOR CAUGHT HAVING INTERCOURSE WITH A SCARE ACTOR!

flirting has become a common fear response when encountering hot masked scare actors chasing you at halloween events. this scandal covers a parkland visitor fawning over the hot scare actor in the Deathgasm haunted house, König, resulting in them flirting and sneaking off together…

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⚠︎ 𝐁𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬. 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. ⚠︎

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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. please do not steal my kinktober prompts/works/themes! reposting any of my works outside tumblr that minors can access is strictly prohibited. will be cross posted on my ao3 soon.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I’ve just seen Wonka AND IT WAS GREAT HONESTLY and if you’re taking requests I have an idea

So in the 2005 version, Wonka’s father is a dentist, right? Well, what if, in the 2023 version, he starts to crush on y/n, who is the daughter of a dentist? He tries to get her attention with chocolate flowers and such, but she doesn’t eat candy so none of his tricks work on her. He’s kinda obsessive but in a cute way, like he won’t give up until she notices him.

𝒩ℴ𝓉 𝒶 𝒻𝒶𝓃

A/N- , this is genius kinda changed it up a lil hope you don’t mind );

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬t

The second you saw the man at the gallery while strolling outside, you stopped with a quirked eyebrow.

This was the chocolate a lot of your patients had started eating, causing a ton of cavities. Maybe you’ll just stop by and see what everyone’s talking about.

You walked into the gallery, and towards the colorful exterior. You entered with a heavy sigh, okay, it looked better than you expected.

“Hello, Ma’am. Welcome to Wonkas, Would you like to try our new-“

“No thanks.” You looked at the man talking, he was dressed in a top hat with little curls peaking underneath, an interesting coat, and a cane.

“Alright. Let me know if there’s anything you need.” He said with a wide smile. And Willy didn’t show it, but the second you stepped in he was in awe.

You were beautiful. And in his opinion, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He was attractive in your eyes, but you pushed those thoughts down.

“Actually, do you happen to know where the owner is..?”

“You’re looking at him.”

“Oh..! I just wanted to.. ask some questions, if that’s alright.” You started.

“Ask away!" he said excitedly.

"May I ask what you put in your chocolates...? I'm a dentist, and I was just curious as to what everyone is getting cavities over."

He nodded, "Well, depends on what we're talking about. I got giraffes milk in all of them, then cocoa beans. Then my hover-chocs have hoverfly eggs." he rambled on.

You looked at the man, confused and interested.

"That's interesting... You're a strange man, Mr. Wonka." You said with a small laugh.

"Willy."

"I'm sorry?"

"Sorry, Willys my first name." He laughed, not being used to being called his last name.

"Right, of course. I'm Y/N."

"Pleased to meet you. Do you work at the office down the road?"

You nodded and smiled, and by the time you bid your farewell, he was already head over heels.

He had ran into you the next day as well, he called it an odd coincidence. He suddenly pulled a chocolate flower out from his hat, you smiled as he tried to hand it to you.

"Sorry, Willy. I don't eat chocolate." you shrugged. His eyes widened, and he tucked it away.

"Don't like chocolate?" He said, feigning offense as he held a hand on his heart.

“Just not a fan.”

He sighed. He'll steal your heart one way or another.

------------------------------

A couple days later, the receptionist calls you on your break. You head up to see a basket, a small teddy bear and chocolates stuffed in them.

You had a good idea of who it came from.

You smiled slightly at it, the receptionist began to tease but you rolled your eyes and laughed, taking it back to the break room.

You opened up the letter he left, a smile on your face as you read.

"Y/n, I know you're not a fan of chocolate or sweets or whatever, but I am hoping these will change your mind. These are zero-sugar, dark chocolate bars I made just for you, I tried to make them taste better than some other healthy ones. Let me know how they are." he had written down, with a small smiley face after that.

You smiled at the thoughtfulness of it, taking it out the wrapper and eating it. It was delicious, you'll give him that.

[astonmartingf]

NEW PERSPECTIVE ; FA14

fernando alonso x photo journalist!reader

. . . twenty years into his career, alonso faced a lot of changes. but it was all because of you, that he looked forward to at the end of everything.

amgf 2.8k words. implied mentions of spygate, rumors, other controversies, accidents and more. slightly realistic? i cried writing this— made me in awe of fernando as a driver even more. enjoy 👍

death of a bachelor ; masterlist

[2005]

Is Fernando selfish?

He could say that to himself, it doesn’t matter to him what other people thought of him. At the end of the day, they’re just here to race.

He’s aware of it, if it weren’t for his skills and passion he wouldn’t have come this far— a young boy from Spain, dreaming to make it to the top. It didn’t seem like reality four years ago, yet here he is.

Standing on top of his car in parc ferme, the crowd cheering him on as his engineers flood through from the garage to greet him. The sun shining down on him— celebrating his win, it felt as if he was back at home in Spain, under the protection of his helmet he could see the entourage of people crowding him.

People as far as his eye can see, but it’s all a blur— to Fernando this was everything he dreamed of and more. It peeved him that he didn’t win the Brazilian Grand Prix, but winning the World Championship was even better.

His shoulders held high hugging every Renault engineer he could find, it was history. He will be a part of history- no. Fernando Alonso made history. And this was just the beginning.

[2007]

Where did things go wrong?

Exactly two years ago, Fernando was on cloud nine. The only thing he’s getting to the nines is stress. As much as he hates to admit he was intimidated to be one-upped by a rookie at that.

It’s his ego that’s eating him alive, nonetheless Fernando is still proud. If he has his head high, nothing could ever stop him.

It scares him, the monster growing inside him, but what else can he do? In this sport, one can either hunt or be hunted. If he had to use tricks up his sleeve, why wouldn’t he?

It’s nothing personal, Hamilton just happened to be there, his only mistake was thinking that the rookie won’t retaliate. In hindsight, he’d gladly accept P2 over his teammate.

Fernando may have an egotistical and dubious character but he wasn’t blind to the young man’s skills. But it was also a mirror and testament to his own, if Hamilton could do it, what’s his reason not to deliver?

Thinking back on his phone call with the team principal, he should’ve immediately told the FIA instead of ratting himself out. Now he has to face the consequences of his actions, deciding to do better, Alonso ultimately leaves the team.

[2008]

He must be a penchant for bad luck, this time Fernando knows it wasn’t his fault.

It annoyed him that controversy seemed to follow him wherever he went. “Are you Fernando Alonso? Is it real you tried to kill your teammate? What can you say in response to the rumors circulating about you?”

Joder!

“Fernando Alonso? Do you have time for an interview?”

Alonso wasn’t one to be caught off-guard, but for the first time he stood frozen, in shock. Glancing around the area, Alonso stepped forward nodding towards the interviewer. He’d been dealing with stupid questions all day long, what’s another one gonna change with his mood right?

“I’m YN LN interviewer for Formula One Herald. As someone who has witnessed you win the championship back in 2005 and 2006, what are your plans in securing the most points possible?”

Wrong.

Now Fernando is truly caught off guard. Wary off your question, overthinking and analyzing hidden meanings behind it. Alonso didn’t think of himself as calculative, he’s simply observant and protective of his space. Knowing how easily one’s words could be twisted into a narrative.

Fernando stares at you, Surely you’re not the type to work for meager clicks on the webs?

It was silent for the next few minutes.

“Sir Alonso? I’m sorry for taking your time, you can go ahead if you don’t want to answer.”

Somehow you managed to catch Fernando’s attention even more, “I thought journalists were supposed to be persuasive? You’re just letting me go without getting a scoop of the news?”

Fernando’s eyes widened, hearing you laugh at his words, he didn’t think of himself as funny, maybe it’s one of their tactics. To know one’s information you must soften them a bit, his expression only hardens ultimately catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh- I guess I’m just nervous since it’s my first time actually being dispatched on field. I used to take pictures on the sidelines- I even took one of yours when you won back in 2005, it was such a nice memory. I remember fighting a lot of reporters to catch a glimpse of you, I managed to take one and it was chosen as the front and center photo of one famous magazine! Hopefully you win more races and podiums, you make it fun and exciting. Speaking as a fan and not some journalist, I’m rooting for you- I must’ve been rambling for a while, thank you for sparing me your time, don’t worry this will all go off the record just for you. Have a nice race week.”

The air must’ve felt it too, because since then things have changed.

Fernando was left alone watching your back disappear from the crowd.

The moment things were finally looking better for him.

[2012]

“Sir Alonso!”

The voice from afar alone caused Fernando to look around for the familiar voice in the paddock. Somehow he’s been always keen on answering your questions or setting up time for interviews, often extending them for an absurd amount of time as what his manager said.

It’s not biased if your questions are the only thing interesting. That or it could be your magnetic presence, he could feel your passion beaming through as you asked him intricate questions none that he experienced before. 

Another telltale sign is you’re the only one who calls him “Sir Alonso”, thinking back on his first meeting with you, it definitely came as a shock. Despite all the formality, he’s taken a liking to the name only you call him.

It makes him feel respected and more importantly it makes him feel like he has a special relationship with you. Walking through the crowd, he spots you at one of the tables waving your cards in the air, like a bait to lure him into your trap.

Not that he minds, if he had to spend the next hour talking about how the season wrapped, he’d rather talk to you about it. Smiling unknowingly, Fernando rubs the palms of his hands on his red tracksuit. 

Was he nervous to talk to you? No. It’s all about racing, a topic Alonso is fond of, but is your presence rubbing him off? I guess he could say that. All the thoughts in his head buzzing, what should he say? What should he do? How should he act in front of you.

Fernando never thought of himself to be as calculative, but the need to impress you has astounded him even more.

“Fernando Alonso, congratulations on finishing P2 for the season. It’s exciting to see you on and off the track now that the season is over.” 

He could feel himself beaming at the sound of your voice, it’s like you infected him with your insurmountable enthusiasm. Alonso liked that about you, no need for snarky remarks, or hidden agendas behind your question, you were always talking about the sport, yet somehow your spark never seemed to fade away.

And as much as you like to praise him, he’s slowly in the making for one of your biggest fans. Not that he will admit that to you himself.

“YN, it’s always a delight talking to you.” Grabbing your hand for a handshake, Fernando pulls you in for a hug without thinking. Immediately pulling away, Alonso’s thoughts began firing, overthinking the previous interaction.

His doubt was erased once he saw the smile on your face, happiness reaching the corners of your eyes. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, this is becoming a thing isn’t it?”

A thing. What thing? Fernando raises his brows asking for more context, maybe he’s overthinking it again or confused, maybe he didn’t hear you properly, totally not distracted just by being in your personal space.

“Post-season interviews? It’s always nice to catch up and look back on the season, especially this one P2. Congratulations Alonso…” Your voice drowns out into the background.

It was another turning point in Fernando Alonso’s life, and somehow this was all because of you. Only realizing then that he’d rather sit down for what seems like the longest time in his life, talking to you, not just about his racing but about your own life. He realized that he’d never catch himself doing this with other interviewers, and this was your thing.

Fernando liked that.

It’s nice to catch up and look back on the season with you.

[2016]

Lucky to be alive. Lucky. To be. Alive.

It only dawned on him what happened then. Fernando sat in silence next to you, from the corner of his eyes, he could see you tidying up the small things you prepared for the interview. Alonso felt vulnerable, it’s been a while since he’s experienced such a crash.

“I should leave you to rest, hmm?” Raising his head, Fernando meets your eyes full of concern or at least that’s how he sees it. In a spur of the moment, Alonso shakes his head ‘no’.

“Can you stay for a while?” Fernando avoids your eyes, halfway in regret from being unable to control himself. To his surprise, you drop your papers sitting down next to him.

“Do you want to talk as a friend?”

A friend.

Fernando stays quiet before nodding his head.

And just like how you do all the time, just being by your side Fernando could feel himself slowly getting better. Letting himself let go of all the thoughts and worries in his head. If not now, when?

When will he have another chance to spend time with you? Not just as a friend.

It was the second time he felt it change.

[2019]

“Congratulations Alonso!”

The corner of Fernando’s lips curl up to a smile watching you approach him closer, opening his arms, catching you in his arms. If he wasn’t already feeling better with his win, having you here by his side is even more enjoyable.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come here. Sick of the F1 Paddock?” Fernando inquisitively asked, he expected you to reply politely for support, but what he didn’t expect is for you to suddenly grow balls.

“Honestly it’s boring without you there. Why would I go when you’re here?”

Or were you always so straightforward that he didn’t notice it? Stunned. 

It was always a surprise with you, not that he minded it didn’t matter what you would’ve said, Alonso would gladly listen to you. “When did you arrive?” Clearing his throat, trying to not get your words to affect him as much as he wants to.

“Oh, I’ve been watching since yesterday, I stayed in one of the tents.” 

And there goes Alonso, surely if you had looked further into his eyes, you could see his heart doing somersaults and cartwheels. Is this your effect on him? He wasn’t that aware, but now it’s slightly concerning for him to be acting this way in front of you.

You simply stunned him. And Alonso wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It’s surprising how I managed to hide from you, to be honest my self-control isn’t that good-”

I’m sure yours is better… if only you knew mine, Alonso thought, lips curling into a smile.

“But somehow I thought, wouldn't it be better to surprise you in the end? If you win then it’ll be a surprise and a celebration. Just like now! I took so many photos of you, you want to see?”

Fernando didn’t notice you moving closer to him, showing him the photos you took of him. 

“And if I lost? What would happen then?” A smirk grows in his face, feeling proud to put you into the corner, but Fernando should know by now that you will always have the upper hand. Especially when it comes to you.

“Oh, I planned on giving you a big kiss, comfort you and take you out for dinner. But isn’t it good that you won?”

The way Fernando’s face fell at the thought of getting a kiss from you sounded a lot better than winning.

Joder! I’d rather kiss YN than win… Is this where I’m at now? 

“What a shame that I won then, are kisses only for losers?” Fernando ought to shut up, but he just can’t let you win, taking blow after blow he’s been hit hard where it hurts. His ego and what could’ve been a kiss from you.

As if you couldn’t surprise him more, Fernando stood frozen watching you move closer to him, hands wrapped on both of his cheeks. He could feel the coldness of your hands against the warmth of his cheeks, pressing a small kiss on the side of his face totally catching him off guard.

“Winners get one kiss. Losers get two.” 

Fernando can’t help but burst out laughing, eliciting the same to you laughing along with the sound of his laughter. “What?”

Alonso shakes his head, face red from the blushing, laughing, or just being in the same proximity as you. You’re full of surprises, he’ll give you that, but he completely surprises himself in the end.

Fighting the urge to kiss you then and there, Fernando settles on grabbing your hands, “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go on that dinner you were talking about.”

[2021]

Getting out of his seat, Fernando immediately looks around for you. The energy, adrenaline, and excitement fueling him. Walking towards his team waiting for him by the barricades cheering, yet his eyes linger towards you.

Behind a camera with a wide smile on your face, Alonso waves as you mirror his movements. It’s as if time had stopped, as you capture his moments, Fernando has already ingrained you in his mind.

Coming back to Formula One wasn’t easy. He had sacrifices to make, but seeing the warmth and familiarity of your face around the track. He kept his shoulders up.

Now more stable than ever, his sacrifices, priorities, and privilege will all be tested as the season comes to an end. Nevertheless, Fernando is grateful to have you by his side.

It’ll only be the beginning for more changes to come, and with you by his side, there’s nothing stopping him now.

[2023]

“You're back with the interviews?” Fernando sits at the other side of the table overlooking the view of the yacht dock.

“My favorite driver is on the grid, so why not. I thought this was our thing?” Fernando watches as you prepare the papers in front of you, head tilting, focused doing your own things. Sitting back and letting you do your magic, Fernando grabs one of your cameras.

You were always behind the lens of your beloved camera, Alonso remembered you saying to him that this was one of your oldest cameras. You also gave Fernando free reign in using your camera, he wasn’t aware of the magnitude of you letting him use your camera, but knowing how special it is to you, Alonso knew to handle it with care.

Fernando turned on the camera immediately looking for the photos you took in them. He has an inkling of the contents inside them, but what he didn’t expect was the overwhelming amount of photos you have of him.

Going as far back as 2003, photos of him in his first win in Hungary, photos of him in podiums, smiling, some showcasing his losses, photos of him with past teammates and in various uniforms.

The feeling dawned on him, you’ve been there from the start, watching him through the lens. Seeing himself from your eyes, Alonso was taken aback at the photos. As if you couldn’t sweep him off his feet even more, learning this about you even made him fall in love with you more than he already is.

“Why are you crying?” 

Your voice breaks his train of thought, blinking away the moisture poling into his eyes. Alonso isn’t one to be emotional, but seeing your love flow through the pictures from the screen, fills his heart heavy with emotion.

Wiping his tears, Alonso places the camera back on the table. “I never thought I would feel this way about these…” Fernando watches you shuffle around, dropping everything as you move beside him.

“I remember telling you about these photos. They’re all about you.”

Alonso nods his head, still deep in thought, beyond belief at his love for you, ever growing every single day.

“I never saw myself like this… how you capture my every moment, through the good and bad. I feel loved, and I love you.” Fernando, professing his love for you. Truly, one of the best seasons.

You allowed him to see himself in a different light, different from what the media says, the roles he played in the sport, a conniving villain. You allowed him to see himself in a new perspective.

amgf death of a bachelor comes to a close. thank you for supporting the series this far, i laughed, cried and felt a rollercoaster of emotions writing this. i hope you enjoy this, until the next series <3

[helen-with-an-a]

Hi is there any chance you could write for niamh charles please. Maybe niamh proposing after being with reader for a while?

Hiiiii - so I don't know much about Niamh so there may be some inaccuracies but I did give it a good go. I hope you enjoy <3<3<3

Snapshots

Niamh Charles x Reader

Descriptions: Snapshots of your relationship with Niamh

Word Count: 6.9k

September 2005 – 6 years old

You were terrified, a feeling that consumed you completely. New people. New faces. News routine. New sport. New coaches. New everything. You couldn’t do it. You wouldn’t. You clung to your dad’s leg. Panic rose in your chest, tightening your throat and making it hard to breathe. Without thinking, you clung to your dad’s leg, clutching onto him in a vain attempt to not have to step onto the field.

“C’mon, chickie. You said you wanted to try football like your brothers.” Your dad smiled down at you, his words kind but expression showing his mild annoyance. He looked down at you, a small smile on his lips meant to reassure, but his expression betrayed a hint of mild annoyance. He didn’t understand the storm of emotions churning inside you, the fear that had taken root and wouldn’t let go. “Look at your brothers, they’re enjoying it.” he added, motioning toward the field.

It was true – your old brother’s loved football. So did you. All they talked about for the last 2 years were their football training and matches. But you couldn’t go. You were too little. Not this time though. This year, you were finally old enough to participate. So, why couldn’t you do it? This was what you had wanted, what you had waited for. But the field seemed so big, the other kids so confident, and you felt so small and out of place. You clung tighter to your dad.

“Niamhy, honey. C’mon, the sessions about to start.” Another man caught your attention. He had the same look on his face that your father had. You looked down, following his eyeline. Another girl clung to her father’s leg, about your age, clinging to her father’s leg just like you were. She had big tears streaming down her cheeks, her face scrunched up in a mixture of fear and sadness. You could tell she was just as scared as you were, her small body trembling as she clung to her dad. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it when you’re out there.” He tried again.

Your dad crouched down beside you, his tone softening as he spoke, pulling your attention back. “You don’t have to do this if you really don’t want to, Chickie. But I know how much you’ve wanted to play, how excited you were for this day. Maybe it’s scary now, but once you’re out there, I think you’ll have fun. Just like your brothers.” His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign that you were ready, that you were willing to take that first step.

You glanced back at the other girl, still holding onto her father, but now with her face buried in his leg, her small sobs muffled. Then, you looked back at the field, at your brothers laughing and running around with the other kids. They were having fun, just like you had imagined. Maybe you could, too?

Slowly, hesitantly, you loosened your grip on your dad’s leg. Your heart was still pounding, and your legs felt shaky, but you took a deep breath and nodded, just a little. Your dad’s smile widened, and he gently squeezed your shoulder.

“There’s my brave girl,” he said softly. “Let’s go give it a try.”

You were a brave girl. You could do this. You walked past the little girl, stopping in front of her. “Hi,” you squeaked, taking in her long brown hair and bright blue eyes. She looked up at you, her face still streaked with tears, but curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“Hi,” she sniffed, her voice small and shaky.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, holding out your hand to her. She hesitated for a moment, then sniffed again, wiping her nose on her sleeve as she stared at your outstretched hand.

“I’m Niamh,” she finally replied, her voice a little stronger now. Tentatively, she reached out and took your hand in hers. Her grip was soft and a little unsure,

You squeezed her hand gently, trying to offer some comfort, even though you still felt a bit nervous yourself. “Maybe we can do this together?” you suggested, your voice wavering slightly. It was something your mother said to you whenever you didn’t want to do something.

Niamh looked at you, her blue eyes wide and searching. For a moment, she seemed to weigh the possibility, then she nodded, a tiny, brave smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Okay,” she whispered.

The two of you stood there for a moment, hands clasped before stepping onto the field.

“Ready?” you asked, trying to muster as much courage as you could for both of you.

“Ready,” Niamh echoed, her voice more confident now, her tears drying as she took a deep breath.

------

March 2013 – 13 years old

“Mum, I’m going to—” 

“Niamh’s, I know,” your mum interrupted, her tone affectionate and knowing. She didn’t even have to ask where you were headed; she’d grown used to the sight of you dashing out the door to Niamh’s house every chance you got.

You smiled sheepishly at her, realising just how predictable you’d become. “Yeah,” you replied, grabbing your backpack, and football boots.

“Don’t forget to tell Niamh your good news,” your mum added with a laugh, watching the way your cheeks flushed pink at the reminder.

You paused in the doorway, the excitement bubbling up in your chest once again. It was the kind of news that made your heart race every time you thought about it, and now you were finally going to share it with the person who meant the most to you.

“I won’t forget,” you promised, though you could already feel the nervous butterflies in your stomach at the thought of saying it out loud. But if there was anyone who deserved to know, it was Niamh.

Your mum waved you off with a knowing smile, and you hurried down the path, the summer sun warm on your skin. As you made your way to Niamh’s house, your mind raced with anticipation, replaying the moment when you’d tell her the news that had changed everything.

When you reached Niamh’s door, you hesitated for a split second, gathering your courage. Then, you knocked, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside you.

“You don’t have to knock y’know!” Niamh’s sister greeted you. “It’s always open anyways, and you have a key.”

“Knocking is polite,” you replied, sticking your tongue out at her as you stepped through the familiar threshold, the scent of something delicious wafting from the kitchen ““She’s upstairs,” Lucy supplied helpfully, already making her way toward the kitchen, probably to continue whatever mischief she’d been up to. You struggled to suppress the groan that automatically formed in your throat.

There was only one thing you disliked about hanging out at Niamh’s house: her bedroom. Niamh was a Liverpool fanatic – just like you – but she had taken her love for the team to an extreme that bordered on obsession. Her whole room was drenched in a sea of red: red walls, Liverpool bedding, red cushions, even the curtains were a blazing scarlet. Posters of Liverpool players adorned every available inch of wall space, their intense gazes seeming to follow you no matter where you stood. While you were just as passionate about the team, you preferred to keep your fan gear to a minimum – scarves, jerseys, maybe a signed ball. Niamh, on the other hand, had turned her room into a shrine. The sheer brightness of the colour made your eyes ache every time you stepped inside.

Still, it was Niamh’s space, and you loved her, so you put up with it. You knocked on her bedroom door, a habit you couldn’t shake, even though she always teased you about it. You waited for the inevitable shout of "Come in!"

“You don’t have to knock, you know,” Niamh called out from her bed, her voice light and teasing. She was lounging across her bed, surrounded by red cushions, her head propped up on one arm as she looked over at you with a playful smile.

“Knocking is polite,” you shot back, pulling a face at her as you stepped inside. The room hit you with its usual wave of crimson, but you ignored it, focusing instead on the familiar comfort of being with your best friend.

You walked over to her bed, dropping your bag as you went, and without a second thought, you flopped down on top of her, causing her to let out a gentle grunt as your weight settled on her. The two of you burst into laughter, the sound filling the room and drowning out the overwhelming red for a moment.

As you lay there, sprawled across Niamh like you’d done a hundred times before, you noticed her scent—warm and familiar, like rising bread and cozy campfires. It was comforting, grounding you in this moment, making you feel safe and at home.

Niamh laughed again, wrapping an arm around you and playfully trying to push you off, though not really making much of an effort. “You’re such a dork,” she teased, but there was nothing but affection in her voice.

“And you love it,” you retorted, your face pressed against the soft, red fabric of her bedspread.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, but she was smiling, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

For a moment, you forgot about the big news you had to share, content to just be there with her, surrounded by the ridiculous red walls, the warmth of her laughter, and the comforting smell of her room. But the excitement bubbling inside you was too much to keep down for long. You couldn’t wait to see her reaction, to share this moment with her.

You rolled off her and propped yourself up on one elbow, looking at her with a wide grin. “Niamh, I’ve got something to tell you,” you began, your voice tinged with the thrill of what was to come.

Her eyes widened with curiosity as she looked at you. “What is it? Don’t keep me in suspense!”

You took a deep breath, your heart racing as you finally let the words tumble out. “I got an invite to go to Liverpool academy trials in June.”

For a split second, the room was completely silent. Niamh’s eyes grew even wider, her mouth falling open in shock. Then, just as quickly, her face broke into the biggest smile you’d ever seen.

“Are you serious?!” she practically screamed, her excitement bursting out of her. Before you could even respond, she grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you playfully. “You’re going to Liverpool Academy trials?! Oh my god, Chickie, that’s amazing!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction, the joy in her eyes making your own heart swell with happiness. “I know! I couldn’t believe it when I got the letter. I’ve been dreaming about this for so long, and now it’s actually happening!”

Niamh jumped up from the bed, practically bouncing with energy. “We have to celebrate! This is huge! You’re one step closer to playing for Liverpool—our Liverpool!”

You sat up, the reality of it all still sinking in. “I know, it’s crazy, right? I’m so nervous, but I’m also really excited. I’ve been practicing every day, trying to get ready.”

Niamh nodded vigorously, her enthusiasm unwavering. “You’re going to crush it, I just know it. You’ve worked so hard for this, and you’re one of the best players I know. They’d be lucky to have you.”

“You aren’t like … mad or anything?”

Niamh’s excitement softened into a look of confusion as she sat back down beside you on the bed. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

You hesitated, suddenly unsure of how to explain the nagging worry that had been in the back of your mind. “I don’t know,” you admitted, looking down at your hands. “I guess… maybe because this could change things between us? I mean, what if I get in and I have to spend all my time training or traveling? I don’t want to lose you.”

“Niamh’s expression softened, and she reached over, placing a reassuring hand on yours. “Chick, I could never be mad at you for following your dreams. This is what you’ve always wanted. Besides,” she added with a smirk, “I got a letter too.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you blinked at her, momentarily stunned. “Wait, what? You did?”

Niamh nodded, her smile widening even more. “Yeah! I’m going to the Liverpool Academy trials too. I didn’t want to tell you until you told me your news, but now we’re both going!”

For a moment, the shock of her revelation left you speechless. “Are you serious?” you finally managed to ask, a huge grin spreading across your face. “This is insane! We can play for Liverpool together!!” Tears sprung to your eyes, a mix of overwhelming joy and disbelief.

Niamh's eyes sparkled with excitement as she saw your reaction. “I know! I was waiting for the right moment to tell you, but this is even better than I could have imagined. We’re going to be on the same team, can you believe it?”

The gravity of it all hit you like a tidal wave, and you threw your arms around Niamh, pulling her into a tight hug. You both laughed and cried together, the emotions of the moment pouring out in an uncontainable flood. “I love you, Niamh.

“I love you too, Chickie.”

------

July 2013 – 14 years old

You had waited for over a month. Each day more torturous than the last. And now, you stood in your bedroom, Niamh in front of you, both clutching your LFC-stamped letters. The familiar, crimson logo glinted in the soft light of your room, making your heart race.

Niamh’s eyes were alight with a mix of excitement and nervousness. She looked at you with a hopeful smile, her fingers lightly gripping the envelope as if it were a precious artifact. “Are you ready to open them?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

You took a deep breath, nodding vigorously. “Yes, I think so.” You looked at each other, carefully handing the other your letter. This is what you had agreed on – you would open the other’s letter.

With a final glance at each other, you both tore open the envelopes simultaneously, the anticipation palpable in the quiet of your room. The rustle of paper seemed to echo, a crescendo to the moment you had both been waiting for.

You pulled out the letter, your hands slightly shaking. The official Liverpool FC header was unmistakable, and you carefully unfolded the paper. The words began to blur as your eyes scanned them, but you forced yourself to focus.

Niamh’s letter was unfolding in tandem beside you, and you could see her trying to read it as quickly as you were. The seconds felt like minutes, each one stretching as you both read. When you finally reached the end of your letter, a mix of emotions overwhelmed you. Your heart pounded with a strange, exhilarating combination of relief and exhilaration. You glanced over at Niamh, who had the same look of intense concentration on her face.

 “You got in!” you both shouted simultaneously, the words tumbling out in a rush of disbelief and joy. The room was filled with a mixture of exhilaration and sheer elation as you both looked at each other, the reality of the news sinking in.

You took a moment to absorb what you had just read, your eyes widening as the words "Congratulations, you’ve been accepted to the Liverpool Youth Academy" seemed to dance on the page. The letter felt heavier with its implications, you were that much closer to playing proper football.

Niamh’s face was a mirror of your own amazement and happiness. “We did it, Chickie! We’re both going to play for Liverpool!” she said, her voice rising with uncontainable excitement. Her eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, radiated pure joy as she grabbed your hand and gave it an enthusiastic squeeze. The intensity of the moment was palpable, and her touch felt electrifying, like a tangible connection to all your shared dreams coming true.

“I can’t believe it,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “This is beyond anything I ever imagined. We’re actually going to be there, together. Liverpool players.”

Niamh’s excitement seemed to bubble over, and she sprang up from the bed, her movements light and buoyant. She began to dance around the room with wild abandon, her laughter ringing like a melody. “We need to celebrate! This is huge! Oh, my god,” she exclaimed, her voice echoing with glee.

Caught up in the whirlwind of her enthusiasm, you felt a surge of emotions that left you breathless. Your heart was racing so fast you thought you might explode with the intensity of it all. It was as if time had slowed down and every heartbeat was amplified by the joy and adrenaline coursing through you.

Without really thinking, you pulled on Niamh’s hand, drawing her back towards you. The warmth of her grip was comforting and reassuring, anchoring you in the moment. As she came closer, you felt an overwhelming urge to express just how much this meant to you both.

In one swift, instinctive motion, you leaned in and placed a gentle, tender peck on her lips. It was a fleeting, but heartfelt gesture, a spontaneous act of affection that seemed to encapsulate all the emotions you were feeling. The kiss was soft and quick, but it spoke volumes about the depth of your bond and the excitement you shared.

Niamh’s eyes widened in surprise, and she froze for a moment, her laughter halted mid-giggle. Then, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, and a delighted, somewhat dazed smile spread across her face. She looked at you with a mixture of shock and elation, her gaze softening as she absorbed the meaning behind the kiss.

“What was that for?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, though her smile betrayed her happiness. Her hand still rested in yours, and you could feel the pulse of both your hearts synchronising in this shared moment.

You shrugged, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know. But I liked it. I really liked it.”

“I really liked it too.” She smiled broadly at you. “Can I do it again?”

------

September 2015 – 16 years old

“Baby, don’t be dumb,” you insisted, your voice light and teasing. You were lying on your bed, your leg propped up on a mountain of cushions, while Niamh’s head rested comfortably on your chest. The room was cozy, filled with the soft glow of a lamp and the faint hum of a playlist you both loved.

“I’m not,” she protested, her voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt. She sounded almost petulant, a hint of stubbornness in her tone.

“Yes, you are,” you laughed, gently running your fingers through her hair. The act was soothing, and her relaxed sigh against your chest was a testament to the comfort you both found in each other’s presence. “You not going to the Euro qualifiers just because I broke my ankle is so dumb.” You had broken your ankle the day the selection emails came out. What you were most pissed off about was that it wasn’t even football related.

You were showering, having just come back from a run to clear your head. You had heard the telltale ting of the notification, and you had raced to get out the shower. Sopping wet and slippery, you had tried to rush through the bathroom, barely able to see through the stinging shampoo in your eyes. The tiles beneath your feet were slick, and before you knew it, you had lost your balance. The next thing you felt was the sharp, jarring pain as you twisted your ankle, followed by a loud crash as you hit the floor.

The pain was immediate and intense, radiating from your ankle up through your leg. You had tried to get up, but every movement sent a wave of agony through your body. Desperately, you had managed to crawl over to the bathroom door, reaching for your phone with trembling hands

Your brother’s had laughed. They poked fun at how you had managed to hurt yourself while trying to escape the shower, their jokes punctuated by their good-natured chuckles. Your father had looked at you disapprovingly, his furrowed brows and stern expression reflecting his disapproval. He was a man of practical solutions and strong opinions, and the sight of you in pain, lying helplessly on the bathroom floor, had sparked a lecture on being more careful and not rushing things. Meanwhile, your mother had taken on the role of caretaker with a comforting blend of compassion and efficiency. She had rushed to your side with a calm urgency, gently helping you finish washing out the shampoo from your eyes. Her hands were steady as she guided you through getting dressed, her soft voice soothing and practical as you waited for the ambulance to arrive. Niamh had been a wreck when you told her – a mix of fearful tears and anger at not looking after yourself properly. She had fussed and hovered until you had hauled her over to you, trapping her in your arms and forcing her to nap with you.

 “It’s not dumb. You need me here. We’ve been talking about this for ages, and now you’re hurt. What if you need something? What if you feel down and need cheering up?” Niamh scoffed, tilting her head slightly, looking up at you with a mixture of concern and disbelief.

You shook your head, wincing slightly at the movement but smiling, nonetheless. “I’ll be fine, Niamhy. I’ve got a lot of people still here – my family, our friends, your family. Plus, I’ve got you here with me now. That’s more than enough.” You kissed her forehead like it was a full stop, punctuating the end of your sentence.

She furrowed her brows, her eyes scanning your face for any signs of insincerity. “But what if you get lonely? Or if you need help with something I can’t just do over the phone?”

You laughed softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “I’ve got a whole team of people here to help me. And besides, it’s not like we’re saying goodbye forever. It’s a week at a time, max. You’ll be back before you know it.”

Niamh bit her lip, clearly torn between her own desires and the need to be there for you. “I just hate the thought of you missing out on something so big, especially when it means so much to you, to us. And I really want to do this together.”

“Listen,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “I appreciate everything you’re doing, but you have to put yourself first sometimes. This is a huge opportunity for you, and I don’t want you to miss it because of me. You would insist I go if it was the other way round.”

She sighed deeply, closing her eyes for a moment as if weighing the decision in her heart. “Okay, okay. I guess you’re right. It’s just...hard. I wanted to be there for you, and I feel like I’m abandoning you.”

You stroked her hair soothingly. “You’re not abandoning me. You’re going to do amazing things, and I’ll be right here cheering you on. And when you come back, we’ll celebrate everything together.

Niamh looked up at you with a soft, appreciative smile, her eyes still glistening with a touch of emotion. “You’re really something else, you know that? Always thinking about others even when you’re the one who’s hurt.”

You grinned, giving her a playful nudge. “That’s what girlfriends are for.”

“She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible. But I love you for it.”

You squeezed her hand gently, feeling a surge of warmth at her words. “I love you too.”

-----

June 2020 – 20 years old

“Chickie, I … there’s something I need to tell you.” Niamh was sitting on the couch, her body tight and rigid as she waited for you to enter the living room. You had been isolating together in your small flat near the Liverpool training grounds. It was nothing luxurious or stunning. But it was yours, yours and Niamh’s—a small sanctuary where you could escape the pressures of the world and focus on your dreams.

You felt the blood rush from your face. Was she dying? Was she sick? Did she do something illegal? Your mind raced through worst-case scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. You had been through so much together, and the thought of something happening to her made your heart pound.

“Just tell me,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the panic that was rising in your chest. “What’s wrong?”

Niamh’s eyes were filled with tears, the bright blue covered by a filmy layer. She took a deep breath, clearly struggling to find the right words. “It’s not… it’s not bad … or at least it doesn’t have to be.”

Your anxiety didn't ease, but you nodded, urging her to continue. “Alright, go on.”

Niamh swallowed hard, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. “I got an offer from another club." Your heart sunk a little further. “And I’m accepting it.” Your heart was on the floor.

The news hit you like a punch to the gut. Your heart sank, and you could almost feel it breaking as the realisation set in. This wasn’t just about a new opportunity for her; it was about a significant change that would affect both of you.

“Baby, that’s amazing!” you managed to say, though your voice was tinged with confusion and hurt. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? This is a huge opportunity for you.”

Niamh looked down, tears welling in her eyes, the weight of her decision evident in her expression. “Because… I wasn’t sure if I should go. I know you’re going through a tough time, and I didn’t want to add to it. I’ve been feeling like I should stay here to support you, but I don’t want to give up this chance either.”

It was true. You had been struggling since the club’s relegation. Each loss, each mistake seemed like a personal failure, and it had been taking a toll on you. The pressure and self-doubt had been overwhelming, making you feel isolated and lost.

“Oh, Niamhy, no.” You reached out, taking her hand in yours, trying to convey the depth of your feelings through the simple act of connection. “Honey, whatever shit I’ve been going through doesn’t mean you should give up on your dreams. I need you to go for this. It’s a huge opportunity, and you deserve it.”

Niamh’s tears began to fall freely now, her emotions spilling out as she looked at you with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “But I don’t want to leave you alone. You’ve been struggling, and I can’t bear the thought of walking away when you need me.”

“You’re not walking away from me,” you said, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “You’re pursuing something you’ve worked so hard for. It’s not about leaving me; it’s about following your path. We’ve both had our share of challenges, and this is your chance to shine. I’ll be okay. We’ll find a way to make it work.”

Niamh squeezed your hand, her grip tightening as if she were holding onto the last thread of her resolve. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

“I’m sure,” you said with a reassuring nod. “I want you to be happy and successful. If this is what you need to do, then you should do it. We’ll support each other, no matter where we go.”

You leaned forward, the tenderness of the moment urging you closer. As your lips brushed against hers, you pressed a long, languid kiss to her mouth. The kiss was gentle yet filled with a depth of emotion that words alone could not convey. It was a blend of consolation and affirmation, a silent vow that no matter where life’s paths took you both, the love and support you offered each other would remain unwavering.

The kiss lingered, a moment suspended in time where the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared hope and love. When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Niamh’s eyes met yours, glistening with a mixture of gratitude and resolve. “I promise I’ll make the most of this opportunity,” she said softly. “I’ll work hard and make sure it’s worth it.”

“And I promise I’ll be here,” you replied, your thumb brushing gently against her cheek. “Cheering you on every step of the way, no matter how far apart we are.” You kissed her again, letting your unspoken emotions seep into it.

“Now, what club are you signing for?” You asked when you parted.

She took a deep breath, “Chelsea.”

------

May 2021 – 21 years old

Despite not being in the WSL, this season had been the best you had ever played. Your performance on the field had reached new heights; you were faster, more agile, and more precise than ever before. Every match felt like an opportunity to showcase the skills you had honed over countless hours of practice and dedication.

Your team had finished 3rd in the league. But it was your individual achievements that made this season particularly special. You had ended up as the top goal scorer in the league, a title that was both exhilarating and deeply satisfying. It was a recognition of your hard work, skill, and relentless pursuit of excellence.

The feeling of being the top goal scorer was intoxicating. Each goal was a testament to your ability to read the game, anticipate plays, and execute with precision. It wasn’t just about the goals themselves; it was about the countless drills and sacrifices that had led you to this point. The season had been a whirlwind of training sessions, tactical meetings, and intense matches, but it had all paid off in a way that surpassed your expectations.

You had found a rhythm that was almost musical in its flow—a blend of speed, finesse, and sheer determination. Your confidence had grown with every game, and the respect from your teammates and opponents alike had become evident. The accolades and praise were a reflection of your relentless commitment to your craft.

Despite being in the Championship, you had started to gain attention from major clubs. The buzz around your performances spread quickly, catching the eye of scouts and managers from across the continent. It wasn’t long before you were called into the England Under-23s squad, an opportunity that was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

The call-up was a significant milestone. You were so close to the senior team. It validated all the hard work you had put in and was a testament to your rising star. Joining the Under-23s meant you would be training and competing with some of the best young talents in the country, pushing yourself to new levels and proving your worth on an even bigger stage.

Soon, the offers started rolling in from top-tier clubs, both within the UK and abroad. You found yourself at the centre of a whirlwind of interest, with clubs from across Europe expressing their desire to bring you into their ranks. The prospect of moving to a different country, adapting to a new league, and facing new challenges was both exhilarating and overwhelming.

Each offer came with its own set of promises and opportunities – better contracts, more prestigious leagues, and the chance to compete in European competitions. Your phone was constantly buzzing with messages from agents, club representatives, and media inquiries. The attention was flattering, but it also added a layer of pressure. You had to navigate through the noise and focus on what was best for your future. You had taken less than 10 seconds to tell your agent to say yes on your behalf.

Niamh’s flat was small and perfect. You had helped her pick it out and decorate, at her insistence. She had a keen eye for detail, and every corner of the flat reflected her personality—warm, vibrant, and inviting. The living room was a cozy blend of deep blues and soft greys, adorned with the occasional deep red throw pillows that hinted at your shared love for Liverpool. The kitchen, though compact, was functional and bright, with fresh herbs on the windowsill and a small dining table that had seen countless laughter-filled meals.

Despite its modest size, the flat felt expansive because of how it was meticulously arranged to maximise space and comfort. You had spent countless weekends over the past few months assisting with the interior design, from choosing paint colours to picking out furniture. It had become a joint project, a labour of love that brought you both closer together. She had insisted it was your flat, not just hers. Just like your house in Liverpool was hers, not just yours.

You knocked on the door, your heart racing with excitement as you heard Niamh’s muffled voice from inside, her confusion about the late visitor clear. It was only 8:30 PM, but for Niamh, who cherished her routine and quiet evenings, it might as well have been the middle of the night.

As the door slowly creaked open, Niamh’s face appeared, a mix of surprise and confusion etched on her features. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of you standing there with a bag of takeout and a hopeful smile. She was dressed in comfy sweatpants and one of your old training tops, clearly in relaxation mode.

“Hi,” you greeted, your voice bubbling with excitement as you stepped inside her small, cozy flat. The room was filled with the warm glow of soft lighting, casting a gentle aura that made the space feel even more intimate and inviting.

Niamh’s eyes widened even further, her gaze flitting between you and the bag in your hand. “Chickie? What… what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Liverpool!” Her voice was a mix of bewilderment and genuine joy, her surprise evident as she tried to grasp the reality of your unexpected visit.

You chuckled softly at her reaction, the sound of her astonishment warming your heart. “I know, I know. But I had a meeting here in London and didn’t want to pay for a hotel,” you teased, your grin widening at her continued shock.

“A meeting? What meeting?” Her brow furrowed in genuine confusion, clearly struggling to piece together the sudden appearance of her long-distance partner.

You continued to smile, revelling in the moment. “Well, I had a meeting, and I ended up signing a new contract.”

Niamh’s eyes were already brimming with questions, her curiosity piqued. “A new contract?”

“Yes,” you said with a nonchalant shrug, “for my new club.”

“New … new club?” Her voice was filled with a mix of disbelief and curiosity, the wheels in her mind turning rapidly.

“Uh-huh,” you confirmed, savouring the way her eyes widened with each revelation. “I’ve just become the latest member of a new team.”

“Wh-what? Which club?” Her voice was a breathless whisper, her eyes locked on yours, eager for the full story.

You took a deep breath, enjoying the build-up. “Chelsea,” you said, letting the name hang in the air for a moment.

Niamh stared at you, her mouth slightly open in stunned silence. The reality of your words took a moment to sink in. “Chelsea?” she finally repeated, her voice tinged with awe. “As in my Chelsea?”

“That’s the one,” you said with a playful wink. “I guess you could say I’ve got a new home now.”

-----

May 2024 – 21 years old

It had been an amazing four years at Chelsea. The transition from your previous club had been challenging, but every hurdle had only made the success more rewarding. Your time at Chelsea had been marked by incredible highs—winning domestic trophies, securing a spot in the Champions League, and forming lasting friendships with teammates who had become like family.

Your growth on the pitch had been nothing short of phenomenal. The training sessions were gruelling, but they had sharpened your skills and bolstered your confidence. The support from your coaches and the camaraderie within the team had created an environment where you could thrive and push your limits. You had even been named Player of the Season last year, a recognition that felt surreal but was a testament to your hard work and dedication.

Off the pitch, life had also been vibrant. The city of London had become a second home, with its endless opportunities for exploration and its rich cultural offerings. Gone were the days of long-distance. Your life with Niamh was perfect. Your home was warm and welcoming, the walls echoing with laughter and the occasional passionate debate over football matches.

Your days off were a delightful mix of exploring new parts of the city, relaxing at home, and indulging in the simple pleasure of each other’s company. Whether it was trying out a new restaurant, taking long walks through the parks, or just enjoying quiet evenings in, every moment with Niamh felt precious. You had both made a conscious effort to build a life together, balancing your demanding schedules with time for each other.

The conversations had shifted from career milestones and football achievements to dreams of a shared future—a future that included a home filled with laughter, love, and the pitter-patter of little feet.

The idea of marriage had always been there, a quiet certainty in your hearts. It was no longer just about the grand gestures or the societal expectations, but about solidifying the commitment you both felt so deeply. You had envisioned it many times: a simple yet beautiful ceremony surrounded by family and close friends, a celebration of your love and the journey you had undertaken together. It was a vision that felt both exciting and comforting, a new chapter in a story that had already been so fulfilling.

It was a quiet day at home, just before the last match of the season. The air was filled with a sense of calm anticipation as you and Niamh enjoyed a rare, peaceful afternoon together. The sun streamed through the windows of your cozy living room, casting a warm glow over the space where you’d spent countless hours creating memories.

You were lounging on the couch, flipping through a book while Niamh was at the kitchen counter, preparing a light lunch. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the aroma of her cooking, creating a comforting atmosphere that was both familiar and cherished.

As you glanced up from your book, you caught Niamh’s eye. She had a thoughtful expression on her face, her hands moving deftly as she prepared a simple but delicious spread. You could tell she was deep in thought, her concentration evident as she worked.

Finally, she set the last dish on the table and walked over to join you on the couch. Sitting down beside you, she took your hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. You looked at her, sensing that something was on her mind.

“Chickie,” she began, her voice soft but firm. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “What’s up, baby?”

Niamh took a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours with a blend of nervousness and determination. “You know how we’ve been talking about the future, about settling down, and all of that?” she started, her voice steady despite the slight tremble in her hands. “Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what that future looks like, and I realised there’s something important I want to ask you.”

Your heart began to race, a sense of anticipation building as you looked at her. You could feel the weight of the moment, the significance of what she was about to say.

Niamh reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. As she opened it, the glint of a delicate ring caught the light, shimmering with a brilliance that seemed to mirror the emotions in the room.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice wavering slightly with emotion, “will you marry me?”

The world seemed to pause as the words hung in the air. Your eyes widened in shock, and tears sprang to your eyes as you took in the sight of Niamh’s hopeful face and the beautiful ring she held.

You were overcome with a rush of emotion, a mixture of joy, love, and disbelief. “Niamh,” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion, “are you sure? This is…”

“Yes,” she interrupted gently, her eyes filled with love and sincerity. “I’m sure. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’ve been my rock, my confidant, and my best friend. I can’t imagine my future without you.”

Without waiting for any further words, you threw your arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Yes! Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled against her shoulder as tears of happiness streamed down your face.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

[matan4il]

On this Yom Ha'Zikaron Le'Chalalei Ma'rachot Yisrael (Memorial Day for Israel's Fallen Soldiers and Terror Victims), I figured it's important to remember that Israeli victims did not exist solely on Oct 7. We have lost loved ones before and since. Here's a list with just one random victim to represent each year. Please scroll down the list to see how far back it goes.

(part 1/5, all parts in the reblogs)

2024: On Jan 7, we lost 19 years old Shai Garmai

2023: On Oct 7, we lost 28 years old Osama abu Madiam

2022: On Nov 23, we lost 18 years old Tiran Faro

2021: On May 12, we lost 5 years old Ido Avigal

2020: On Aug 26, we lost 39 years old Shai Ochayon

2019: On May 5, we lost 49 years old Zaid al-Chamamda

2018: On Dec 12, we lost Amiad Israel Yish Ran, who was murdered in his mother's womb

2017: On Nov 22, we lost 21 years old Hodaya Nechama Assoulin

2016: On Oct 25, we lost 14 years old Rami Namer abu Amar

2015: On Feb 17, we lost 4 years old Adelle Biton

2014: On Oct 22, we lost 2.5 months old Chaya Zissel Brown

2013: On Dec 24, we lost 22 years old Salech al-Din abu al-Atayef

2012: On Jul 18, we lost 28 years old Yitzchak Idan Kolangi

2011: On Apr 17, we lost 16 years old Daniel Aryeh Viplich

2010: On Feb 26, we lost 52 years old Netta Blatt Sorek

2009: On Apr 2, we lost 13 years old Shlomo Nativ

2008: On Mar 6, we lost 26 years old Doron Trunach Mahareta

2007: On Jun 17, we lost 85 years old Meir Cohen

2006: On Aug 10, we lost 4 years old Fatchi Assdi

2005: On Jul 12, we lost 16 years old Nofar Horvitz

2004: On Sep 29, we lost 2 years old Dorit Massarat Binsan

2003: On Sep 9, we lost 20 years old Naava Appelbom

2002: On Nov 10, we lost 4 years old Noam Levi Ochayon

2001: On Dec 12, we lost 42 years old Ester Avraham

2000: On Nov 21, we lost 19 years old Itamar Yefet

1999: On Jun 24, we lost 34 years old Tony Eliyahu Zanna

1998: On Dec 2, we lost 41 years old Osama Moussa abu Aisha

1997: On Mar 13, we lost 13 years old Natali Alkalai

1996: On Feb 25, we lost 57 years old Yitzchak Elbaz

1995: On Jul 24, we lost 60 years old Zehava Oren

As Tumblr limits a post to 30 images... part 1/5 - the next parts will be posted in the reblogs momentarily. Please check out the full list.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[heartfullofleeches]

i need more sucrose i beg

just a crumb, any fact or a random blurb i beggggggg

My original idea for Dentist Reader was that they were scared off of candy as a child 2005 Willy Wonka style, but someone left this comment.

So here's a drabble with both meshed into one.

Yan Candy Person Shop Owner + Dentist Reader

"You have one final chance to get out of my office before I have you dragged out in handcuffs."

If that damned sheriff would actually do his job for once- The worst part about moving to a smaller area was the local authority's instance on solving issues between yourselves. Your hands may have been filled with new appointments, you aren't blind. You've seen that lazy excuse for an officer waltz gleefully out of that accursed candy store, twiddling suckers between his lips.

Hard candy and bite sized balls of chocolate spill out onto the floor of your lobby as the confectioner urges the candy bowl from their hands into yours.

"Gumdrop...." That awful nickname... It's almost more annoying than their crocodile tears when you call out their behavior in public. "Just one little nibble, that's all I'm askin'. Let's start with something simple. Butterscotch? How about a peppermint? A gumdrop for my sweet, compassionate gumdrop?"

Your foot taps impatiently against the carpeted floor. Must you go through this same song and dance every day? Sucrose lets out a nervous chuckle, placing the bowl on your desk as they hop to their feet.

"If you won't have any for yourself, at the very least your patients might enjoy a sweet treat after everything you put them through. Dental work can be scary business- A smile every now and then would help too."

"Alright. Fine- I've got too much paperwork to deal with to argue with. If you had any sense, you'd be behind the counter- At. Your. Shop."

"Feisty~" Sucrose purrs, tapping your nose with a giggle. "That's what I love about you. I'll drop by during your lunch break to check on you. Don't miss me too much, Gumdrop!"

Grabbing the tails of their apron, Sucrose bows before turning on their heals - practically skipping their way out of your office. With them out of your hair, your focus redirects to the bowl of candy sitting on your desk. Lollipops and hard candies were one thing, but some of the mix would only cause more harm than good. Caramels, jelly beans, taffy.

Your fingernails clench around the edge of the table- the roar of an engine scaring you off before you dare to go further. Fearing being caught, you brisky march over to the windows; shutting the blinds without a second thought. Returning to the desk, you make certain your chair faces the window as you take your seat - snatching the first brightly colored wrapper that catches your eye.

You make quick work of pealing the candy free, folding the wrapper into a neat folder and tucking it into your pocket. You've never seen taffy shaped quite like what they've done before- Maybe someday you'd swallow your pride and ask Sucrose how they they sliced their candy into perfect miniature hearts. Easing back in your chair, you pop the candy into your mouth - chewing as all your fears from the past melt on your tongue along with the rich, cherry flavor.

"Knock, Knooooock~ Hey, Gumdrop. I think I forgot my....."

Hand deep in the candy bowl, the taffy hits your stomach like a brick as you swallow - the confectioner's eyes growing wider by the second.

"G.....Gumdrop?!? You're eating me sweets?! Out of your own free will? Eeeek! I knew you'd come around someday! I'm so happy! Let me lick the sweetness from your lips, my angel!"

You keep from your chair as Sucrose pounces- keeping them at distance with your foot as they make wild grabs for your face with their hands.

"Don't deny our love any longer, my sweet! You love my candy yet you claim to despise it so you must feel the same way about me- You're too cruel! Kiss me, you beautiful heart-breaker!"