#cheering applauding clapping !!

[try-set-me-on-fire]

but what a polite bad dog he is! picked up his own leash, walked himself into the street!

[fist-of-vengeance]

last night for my birthday i forced my friends to listen to an hour and a half long powerpoint explaining the entire lost timeline in chronological order. i know lost is a pretty zany show but nothing makes you realize this more than trying to verbally explain time travel and the sideways universe to three people who've never seen it

[videoreligion]

Legion of Iron (1990)

[captaindwaekki]

Why do I keep seeing videos on tiktok of ‘fans’ straight up ignoring Changbin, even when Felix or somebody asks them to clap for him (which shouldn’t be a thing that needs to happen at all imo)?

Like I am the furthest thing from a violent person, BUT that shit makes my blood boil. Even if he’s not your favorite have some fucking human decency and give the man the appreciation he has earned and deserves.

[braintapes]

queueing this up before i go to bed so it posts at a time people might see but . humble request someone ask me about my oc weatherman. i based him on jellyfish kinda - he takes the form of a jellyfish cap as a 'head' whille using a human shaped body as a vessel to move around in. kind of like if your nervous system was both inside and outside of you and was also a jellyfish that latched onto you and physically melded with you. and he "works" for a tv station that plays endless meaningless nonsense shows to a brainwashed audience. except he isnt aware of that part. he truly genuinely thinks people find his weather reports entertaining and useful. even though the world he lives in is completely submerged and Has No Weather. an d he's sooo silly goofy and smiley and i care . him.

[posebox-guide]

Get Famous Box - 4T2 Conversion! by TheOnlyException

Director Feedback > Risky Success 1

Director Feedback > Risky Success 2

Director Feedback > Risky Success 3

[restricted-on-13th]

Woahhhhh wth, damn

Map of Amity Park

So I did a bunch of research and traced over the map the GIW had in DCMH and extended it to try and build a map of Amity Park. I also paid close attention to locations and places named in canon. I am by no means an artist, map maker, photoshop pro, or civil engineer; I just wanted a general reference map for the phandom to use. 

Here is where I place Amity Park. We know AP isn’t in Michigan or Wisconsin, but is most likely a day drive away from Madison (Bitter Reunions). AP is a decent sized city of itself, so I can see it being an outskirt of a large city like Chicago. Lancer mentions the Northwestern Testing, and Northwestern University is in Evanston, IL, which is why I placed it where it is.

LIST OF PLACES (in great detail): 

Keep reading

[crazymuffin1]

Gonna be funny as hell if they catch the shooter and everyone is applauding when he's shown publicly like for example when they transport him and the media have to like, lie and pretend people are applauding and cheering for his arrest while there are signs from the protestors in the background hailing him as a hero. And every single comment is gonna be "im cheering for him" or whatever.

Remember when the queen died and the whole football stadium was "If you hate the queen clap your hands?" Yeah like that.

[mothsantics]

BIRTHDAY GIRLIEE <33

[thefreakandthehair]

smooth operator

written for ‘hole’ | wc: 404 | rated: m | cw: n/a @steddiemicrofic

Crowd-work is Eddie Munson’s favorite part of stand-up. It’s actually become a niche of sorts, and tonight is no different.

“Something I’ve noticed in my time fucking men,” Eddie leads with, strolling across the makeshift stage, “is that you can tell how hot a guy is by how he takes off his shirt.”

The audience chuckles collectively.

“Don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. We’ve all seen movies. You, in the navy blue,” Eddie gestures with his chin at a man sitting at a hightop with two girls. “You’re a good-lookin’ guy. Let’s see if you’re hot. Show us how you take your shirt off.”

Without hesitating, Blue Shirt stands up and in one swift motion, grabs the back of his shirt with one hand and tugs it off over what Eddie tries not to think is perfectly soft, perfectly messy copper locks. Turns out, it’s easy to not think about his hair, because every rational and coherent thought he’s ever had about anything comes to a screeching halt.

It kills his set because that’s not the Hot Guy Method he’s been referring to but there’s not a chance in cold, dark Hell he can stand on stage and lie in front of this cheering, clapping audience. This guy is fucking hot.

“Oh my God,” he says in the microphone as Blue Shirt shrugs and flushes, just a hint of pink crawling from the hollow of his throat to his cheeks. “That’s never worked before. That’s never worked. I did not— wow, I did not see that coming.”

The crowd continues to laugh and applaud, Blue Shirt sitting confidently on his barstool with his shirt still in hand. Motherfucker doesn’t even have the decency to put it back on so Eddie can move on.

He’s really dug himself a fucking hole with this one, huh?

“Jesus H. Christ, I meant to do the motion. And that’s— listen, that wasn’t the hot way I meant but for the first time ever, audience, I admit defeat. I don’t know what the Hell just happened, but that’s the hot way now.”

Blue Shirt raises his glass and fucking winks at him, before calling out in response. “Buy me a drink after the show and I’ll show you the hot way to take off a belt, too.” 

Eddie’s jaw falls open and Blue Shirt wiggles his eyebrows with a smirk. 

author's note: sometimes, you see a video of a stand-up comedian and drop literally everything you're doing to make it about your blorbos. this is one such time. @henderdads @steddieasitgoes it’s here!

[yuvany]

#LOVE IN THE AIR

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 and their date ideas𐙚

OT7 ENHYPEN x Female reader ;; CONTENT/WARNING(S) :: fluff + est relationship + kisses + not proofread. . . WORD COUNT . 964 ;; CHECK BOX !!

yu-note :: writer's block is kicking in again, and school work is piling up...

( reblogs + feedback always appreciated !! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 - KARAOKE

Serenades you as much as he can. Sings ballads, pop songs about love and some of his own music. You cheer him on and clap to the beat of the music and applaude after each round. He courtesy in a low bow in a joking manner before walking over to you, holding the microphone in front of him, asking you to sing this time. "I can't sing, Hee." You try to avoid the microphone that is getting closer and closer to you. "Don't lie, I've heard you sing in the shower, sweetie." You are embarrased by this and you feel your cheek turn red as you grip onto the handle. Heeseung chuckles and press a soft kiss to your cheek.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 - COOKING

He invited you over to his place. At first, he did most of the cooking as you watched him from the side lines, but you weren't complaining. Jay was certainly art to look at. Later though, he realises that he accidentally left you out. "baby, come here." He motions for you to stand beside him. "Yes?" You ask and he takes out a glass pan from the storage underneath the oven. "please layer the lasanga while I wash the dishes." Jay pats you on the back before walking over to the sink and letting the water run. When you're finished, you wait for him before putting it in the oven. Jay returns and sees that you've done an awesome job, and he rewards you with a kiss.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗬𝗨𝗡 - POTTERY

Thought it would be nice as he likes doing new stuff. You entered the workshop with aprons on you, the instructor walked in and introduced herself, explaining the short agenda. After the short walk-through, you and Jake are left to experiment with the clay on your own. You decided to make a smll heart shaped pot with low edges to give to Jake, and he had a similar idea. As you knead into the clay and shape it into your desired form, you snatch glances at him with his tounge out and you can't contain your smile. The two of you paint them together, and then walk out of there proudly. "I think you'll like what I made." He says. "I think you'll like mine too." You reply.

𝙋����𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉 - PHOTOGRAPHY

Sunghoon had already envisioned you as his model weeks before he finally asked you to go to a park with him. His hand let go of your waist as he sees a beautiful garden and asks if he could take a photo of you. "Here?" You ask, walking over to where he is pointing, he nods and picks up the camera that hung from his neck. "Now strike a pose, baby." You followed and heard the shudder of the camera go off. Sunghoon takes a look at it before smiling to himself. You are curious and walk over to him and try to sneak a glance at it. He sees this and shows you. "Let me take a picture of you now." You offer with a sweet smile and he nods. "I'm sure you'll do great."

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 - DIY CRAFTS

Wanted to stay inside with blankets and pillows making a fortress around the two of you as you observe a youtube video on how to make a paper bouquet. Papers of different colours were scattered all over the floor with the ipad admist all the chaos. It felt like an impossible tast to finish, but Sunoo manages to do the difficult past faster than you, and you plead for him to do it for you as well. "Honey, pleasee." He eventually gives in with a roll of his eyes after rejecting it a couple of times. After creating the first flower, Sunoo accidentally scrunched the paper and gives up. "For you, my love." He hands you the single flower he made with a wide smile and the two of you burst into laughter.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 - CAFE HOPPING

It was initially a normal walk, but he spotted a new cafe that had opened and was itching to try it, so he pulled you along with him. The sound of a bell was heard upon entering the small atmosphere. He holds your hand as you two look at the menue by the register, and you tell him what you want to order, and he orders for you while you go and search for a seat. He finds you and shrug off his jacket and hangs it on his chair. "They also had your favourite here, so I ordered that as well, babe." Jungwon says and you nod. "Strawberry cake?" You question and he nods. "I heard that there's another popular shop a couple of minutes away from here, wanna go?" You see the excitement in his eyes, and can't tell him no.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 - PAINTING

He is talented for sure. He invited you over to a workshop with him. His plan was to impress you with his talent, and you are indeed impressed by how well he can paint. If you're an artist yourself, Riki will sit and watch you in awe, his mouth hanging agape as he observes the brush sliding acorss the canvas. If you don't know how to draw or paint, worry not. He comes and saves you. Riki holds your hand that holds the brush and guides you through each step. When doing individual projects, he sneaks peaks at you from above the canvas and paints you a portrait of yourself. "I have a gift for you." He says, and you try to see what he's hidng behind his back, but he moves aside and hands you it before backing away shyly waiting for your reaction, "It's wonderful."

[srngrque]

after her father.

jude bellingham x fem!reader + mini daughter bellingham. fluff. jude who became a star for his daughter.

Your daughter giggled loudly, clapping her hand aggressively as Jude scored a goal for Real Madrid, his team. In your arms, your daughter jumped up and down showing off her growing teeth. You smiled widely, eyes twinkling in adoration to see your daughter being merry and joy at the loud cheer for her father. 

Jude ran in front of the crowd, his eyes eagerly dancing through the crowd to find his girls to meet the gaze of his little one clapping hands like everyone else. As the whole stadium of Bernabéu roared for Jude Bellingham, his heart soared high seeing his daughter in the midst of the crowd clapping and smiling just for him. 

He smiled, blowing a few kisses repeatedly toward your direction, your daughter excitedly nodded trying to catch his kisses. "Mommy, blow papa kiss." She mumbled, holding your cheeks tight with her small hand. With her order, you jokingly nodded following her action. 

As the players gathered to cheer Jude, the billboard on the stadium captured your daughter with her doe eyes sparkling bright and her big smile. "Do the pose you prepared for papa." You whispered in her ears, as she giggled to your words tingling in her ears. 

Jude is a superstar in her eyes. As he is away for matches or training, all she would watch is more contents of her father uploaded on social media. The constant giggles of Jude scoring a goal or making a scene with the referee. Your daughter learnt quickly about her father through youtube, regardless if it were some cuss words or some facial expression, she followed through.

Jude squinted his eyes gazing at his little girl as she swung her arm open wide just like her father as you strengthen your hold onto your baby protectively. People stood up from the benches cheering and applauding for Jude’s daughter. He stood in admiration to see how quickly his daughter is becoming like him. 

"That's my baby taking after me, innit." Jude chuckled, going back to his position with the rest of his teammates laughing with him. This win is an absolute must, considering his daughter being in one of the benches where he has to still be the superstar that he is for his daughter. 

You walked through the tunnel to meet Jude as your daughter waddled her way with her tiny little feet to meet her father. After the billboard incident, there were numerous people waving at your daughter with their phone hounding and recording her. 

She paused, you bent down to meet her eye level, she wrapped her arm around your neck. “Mommy, can I go to papa?” She whispered as she twirled onto her hair playfully messing up the hairstyle you made for her. You smiled slowly letting go of her hand, seeing as a sign, she jumped before pacing forward to her father who had been waiting for her in the field. 

You glanced worriedly but Jude had been on both of his knees opening his arm open for his little one to run into his embrace. All your worries vanished as she had landed on his arm safely. "I got you, i got you, i got you." Jude mumbled under his breath. You gently walked toward the father-daughter duo that were having their own moment. Jude glanced at the side to see you approaching before he motioned you to come faster.

"Hi" You whispered softly, wrapping your hand around his forearm. Jude smiled down, leaning in for a peck. Your daughter covered her eyes, "Papa, me first." Your daughter pulled Jude away from you, holding his cheeks tight.

In that moment, you were burning with love.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗔𝗟𝗟, 𝗪𝗜𝗡 𝗔𝗟𝗟 max verstappen x girlfriend! tennis player! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . Max Verstappen may be unstoppable on the track, but off it, he's your biggest fan. From playful ping-pong battles to courtside cheers, he’s always there—cheering you on, teasing you, and making life a championship worth winning together. ( 3.5k words )

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( requests )

The stadium was electric, filled with cheers and the rhythmic clap of hands as you prepared to serve for match point. The crowd's energy was palpable, but your focus was unwavering. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew Max was watching—he always was—but right now, it was just you, your racket, and the ball.

Even though Max was a regular at your matches, his presence always caused a stir. Cameras occasionally cut to him in the player’s box, commentators marveling at the reigning four-time World Champion taking time from his schedule to support you. As if he wouldn’t move mountains to be here.

You launched your serve, precise and powerful, and within seconds, the rally was over. The ball hit the court on your opponent’s side, and the umpire’s voice rang out, declaring you the winner. The crowd erupted, standing to applaud the number-one-ranked player in women’s tennis.

Max shot to his feet, clapping and grinning as you fell to your knees, overcome with emotion. When you finally stood, wiping your eyes, you exchanged a handshake with your opponent and hugged the umpire. Then, as if guided by instinct, you turned to him.

Max was already leaning against the edge of the court, waiting. You jogged over, throwing an arm around his shoulders in a side hug, your other hand still gripping your racket. He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, murmuring something only you could hear that made you laugh.

A few minutes later, with the trophy presentation complete, you were ushered off for post-match interviews. Max, however, remained a few feet behind, the golden trophy now in his hands. He held it up, inspecting it from every angle with childlike fascination.

You glanced over your shoulder mid-question, catching him tilting the trophy as if trying to decipher its weight. Your lips twitched, holding back a laugh as you return your focus to the reporter.

As the interview wrapped up, Max sauntered over, the trophy gleaming under the stadium lights. He stepped into frame, holding it up proudly.

“I’ll be putting this next to my WDC trophy,” he declared with a grin. “Right on my Red Bull fridge. So I can show you off every time I stream.”

The reporter laughed, clearly charmed, while you shook your head, unable to hide your smile. “It’s my trophy, Max.”

“Yeah, but it’ll look good next to mine,” he countered, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You rolled your eyes playfully but leaned into him anyway. “Fine. But if I find one of your helmets near it, I’m moving it to the garage.”

“Deal,” Max said, kissing your temple as the cameras clicked, capturing the moment of your easy banter and undeniable adoration for one another.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The club was alive with neon lights and the thumping bass of music that seemed to shake the very walls. Somewhere amidst the chaos, you were perched precariously on a booth, one hand clutching a half-empty cocktail and the other raised in the air like a trophy.

"My boyfriend!" you declared, your voice carrying over the music, "is the best driver in the world! Better than all of you!"

A few amused cheers erupted from nearby tables, while Max, standing a few feet away, struggled to suppress his laughter. He had won his fourth title just hours ago, and the night had been nothing short of euphoric. Now, watching you teeter on the edge of the booth, tipsy and unapologetically proud, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming fondness.

You swayed slightly, turning to point at a group of confused tourists. "You don’t even know! He’s better than… than…" you paused dramatically, "everyone!"

Max finally intervened, his grin wide as he approached and effortlessly lifted you off the booth and onto his shoulder.

"Alright, princess," he said, his voice tinged with amusement, "time to call it a night."

"But I wasn’t done!" you protested, your words slurred but determined.

"Oh, you’ve made your point," he chuckled, weaving through the crowd with you draped over his shoulder. You waved at strangers as he carried you out, their faces a mix of confusion and entertainment.

Outside, the crisp Las Vegas air hit like a splash of cold water. Max flagged down a cab, gently setting you down as he opened the door. You leaned into him, still buzzing with energy, your words tumbling out faster than your brain could process.

"You’re amazing, you know? Four titles! Four! That’s more than three!"

Max shook his head, guiding you into the cab with a smirk. "Good math skills."

In the backseat, you snuggled up against him, your head resting on his shoulder as the cab pulled away. The driver, an older man with a weathered face, glanced at the two of you in the rearview mirror.

"All this racing nonsense," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Clogging up the city. Nobody could get anywhere. It’s not worth it. A waste of time and money."

You perked up, your drunken indignation flaring to life. "Excuse me, but—"

Before you could launch into a spirited defense of Max’s honor, he gently clamped a hand over your mouth.

"She’s had a bit to drink," he explained with a laugh, his tone light as he leaned forward to engage the driver. "But honestly, I get it. The traffic is a nightmare."

You glared at him, your muffled protests lost beneath his hand. The driver nodded in agreement, his rant continuing as Max shot you an amused look. When he finally released you, you huffed and crossed your arms, but the irritation quickly melted away as you looked at him.

"You’re lucky I love you," you mumbled, your words soft but heartfelt.

Max’s smile softened, and he pressed a kiss to your temple. "I know."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The paddle court was alive with the satisfying smack of the ball against paddles and the occasional squeak of sneakers on the polished floor. Max grinned at you from the other side of the net, his posture loose but determined. The same couldn’t be said for the man perched stiffly on the bleachers, phone in hand and eyebrows furrowed—Jos Verstappen.

“Why did we have to bring him along?” you muttered under your breath as you adjusted your grip on the paddle.

Max shrugged, his expression sheepish. “He’s my dad.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Could’ve fooled me. He hasn’t looked up from his phone once.”

Max chuckled, his gaze flicking between you and the ball. “He’s not exactly here for moral support.”

Despite the shadow of Jos looming nearby, you focused on Max. He wasn’t the best at racket sports—his coordination on the court wasn’t quite as sharp as it was behind the wheel—but that didn’t stop you from letting him cheat.

When he sent the ball barely over the net, you dove for it, purposefully missing. “Wow, amazing shot, Max!” you exclaimed dramatically, giving him an exaggerated thumbs-up.

He snorted, trying and failing to hide his laugh. “You’re terrible at pretending.”

“Am I?” you teased, tossing the ball back to him with a wink. “I’m just here to make sure you’re having fun, Verstappen. And so far, you owe me a thank-you.”

Max grinned, his eyes lighting up in a way that made your heart ache—in the best way.

But the moment shattered when Jos’s curt voice cut through the air. “Max, keep it down.”

Max’s smile faltered, and you felt a spark of irritation flare in your chest. You turned toward the bleachers, narrowing your eyes at the older man, who didn’t even glance up. The weight of the racket in your hand suddenly felt a lot more tempting.

“Don’t,” Max warned softly, seeing the look on your face.

“I wasn’t going to,” you lied, returning to the game with a forced smile. You leaned into teasing Max more, making jokes and exaggerating your misses just to hear him laugh again. For the rest of the match, you kept him distracted, determined to bring back the lighthearted mood.

When the game finally ended, the two of you grabbed your bags and walked toward the parking lot. Jos, of course, was ahead of you, his back rigid as ever.

You poked Max in his side, catching him off guard. He jolted, letting out an honest-to-God squeak as he swatted at your hand.

“Yn!” he exclaimed, half-laughing, half-scolding.

You grinned mischievously, about to poke him again when Jos’s voice carried over his shoulder. “Max, act your age.”

Your smile dropped, replaced by a scowl as you clenched your paddle. “Oh, I’ll act my age, alright…” you muttered, raising the racket slightly as you glared at Jos’s back.

Max grabbed your wrist just in time, holding you back with a chuckle that was more nervous than amused. “Yn, no.”

You huffed, letting him take the paddle from you, though you still muttered under your breath, “Would’ve been worth it.”

Max leaned closer, his voice soft with amusement. “You’re going to get us both grounded.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, slipping your hand into his as you walked. “But if he says one more thing—”

“You’ll behave,” Max interrupted, squeezing your hand with a grin.

You shot him a playful glare but couldn’t help smiling when he leaned down to kiss your temple. Even with Jos around, Max made everything better.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The chandelier above twinkled like stars in the dimly lit ballroom, the soft hum of a string quartet filling the space. Max’s hand rested securely on your waist as the two of you swayed in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by couples in sparkling attire. You’d both lost track of time, the countdown to midnight still a distant murmur in the background.

“Another year done,” you murmured, leaning closer into Max’s chest. The warmth of his embrace and the faint scent of his cologne made the busy room feel like it was only the two of you.

He hummed in agreement, his fingers lightly tracing the fabric of your dress. “And another title for me. Think you can keep up next year, or am I leaving you behind?”

You tilted your head up, grinning. “Max, please. I’ve won more trophies this year than you’ve had podiums.”

He let out a quiet laugh, pressing his lips to your temple. “Always so humble, my love.”

Your eyes flicked across the room, pausing on a familiar figure standing near the bar. The sight of her brought an immediate smirk to your face. “Oh, look who’s here,” you said, nodding in the direction of one of your fiercest competitors.

Max followed your gaze, his brow lifting slightly. “And what about her?”

“I can’t wait to destroy her on the court next season,” you whispered, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Max let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes playfully as he pulled you even closer. “Of course you’re plotting your next win at a gala. I should’ve known.”

“Don’t act like you’re not impressed,” you teased, poking him lightly in the chest.

“I’m always impressed,” he said softly, his teasing tone fading into something warmer as he looked down at you. “Even when you’re insufferably competitive.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, and before you could fire back, he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to the top of your head. The world around you seemed to blur for a moment, the music and chatter melting into the background as the two of you continued to sway, lost in each other.

It didn’t matter how competitive you were or how much the media buzzed about the two of you. In moments like this, it was just Max and you—two people who found peace in each other’s arms.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The cold mountain air bit at your cheeks, the snow crunching beneath your boots as you adjusted the snowboard strapped to your feet. The slopes ahead glistened under the pale winter sun, a postcard-perfect view that would’ve been more enjoyable if you weren’t already frustrated.

Max stood a few feet away, leaning casually on his ski poles, the picture of effortless elegance. He watched you struggle to maneuver with an unmistakable softness in his eyes, his lips quirking into a faint smile as you hopped and waddled in place, trying to shift your weight on the snowboard.

“I look like a penguin, don’t I?” you muttered, catching the amused glint in his gaze.

He chuckled, his voice warm despite the chill in the air. “You said it, not me.”

You shot him a playful glare but couldn’t hold back your own laughter. “This would be so much easier if I had two sticks like you.”

“Well,” he teased, pushing himself forward effortlessly on his skis, “maybe someone shouldn’t have sprained their wrist wrestling with me last week.”

“That was your fault!” you exclaimed, nearly losing your balance as you jabbed a finger in his direction.

Max raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. “I wasn’t the one who tried to put me in a headlock.”

“I was winning, and you knew it,” you shot back, grinning despite yourself.

“Sure, sweetheart.” He stopped just in front of you, his expression softening as he reached out to steady you, his gloved hands brushing against your jacket. “Come on, let’s stick to the easier trail today. I don’t want you hurting yourself again.”

You huffed, blowing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “I’m fine, Max. I’ve got this.”

“You can barely move without looking like you’re about to topple over,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “Let’s just take it slow.”

“I don’t want to take it slow. I want to go on the harder trail,” you insisted, planting your feet firmly in the snow.

Max shook his head, his eyes crinkling with fond amusement. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re annoyingly cautious,” you shot back, sticking out your tongue.

He laughed, the sound rich and genuine as he leaned on his poles. For a moment, he just stood there, watching you with that soft, adoring look that made your heart skip a beat.

“What?” you asked, feeling your cheeks warm despite the cold.

“Nothing,” he said, his smile widening. “You’re just… cute. Like a little penguin.”

You groaned, throwing your head back in mock exasperation. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” he said, stepping closer to press a quick kiss to your forehead before you could protest.

With his help, you managed to waddle your way to the lift, Max staying close by the entire time. Even when you bickered and teased each other, he never let you out of his sight, his protectiveness shining through in every glance and touch.

And though you’d never admit it, you secretly loved how much he cared. Even if it meant sticking to the easy trail and waddling like a penguin a little longer.

As the two of you reached the top of the slope, Max leaned casually on his ski poles, surveying the descent with the calm confidence of someone who knew he was going to ace it. You, however, were mentally preparing yourself for the chaos that was about to ensue.

“Ready?” Max asked, looking over at you with a smirk that somehow managed to be both infuriating and endearing.

“Born ready,” you replied, shifting your weight on your snowboard as you braced yourself. But just as Max turned his attention to the slope, you reached out and gave him a playful shove.

“Hey—” he started, but the word turned into a startled shout as he lost his balance, falling sideways into the snow with an unceremonious thump.

You burst into laughter, the sound ringing out across the quiet mountain. “Looks like someone wasn’t ready after all!” you teased, hopping awkwardly on your snowboard to start your descent.

Max sat up, brushing snow off his jacket with an incredulous look. “You’re impossible!” he called after you, but his voice held no real annoyance—just a mix of exasperation and affection.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The low hum of the heater filled the living room, mingling with the occasional click of ping-pong balls bouncing off the table. Snow piled against the windowpane, and neither of you had the energy to brave the cold outside. Max leaned lazily against the ping-pong table, spinning his paddle in one hand and smirking at you from across the room.

“So, remind me again,” you said, raising an eyebrow as you examined the table. “This was supposed to be my actual Christmas present?”

Max grinned, shrugging as if he had no idea why you were questioning it. “I thought it’d be funny,” he said, his voice dripping with faux innocence. “You’re always going on about how good you are at everything. I figured I’d give you a chance to back it up.”

“Funny,” you deadpanned, tapping the edge of the paddle against your palm. “And when I wipe the floor with you?”

Max chuckled, motioning for you to serve. “You won’t, but sure. Dream big.”

The first few rounds were casual, a lazy back-and-forth as you both found your rhythm. But it wasn’t long before the teasing started.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you called, smashing the ball past him with a flourish.

“That was lucky,” Max shot back, jogging after the ball as it bounced off the wall.

“Lucky? Please. That was pure skill.”

The game quickly escalated into a battle of wits and reflexes, each point followed by exaggerated gloating or playful accusations of cheating. You were winning—handily, in fact—but Max didn’t seem to mind. He was too busy laughing at your over-the-top celebrations.

Finally, after one particularly brutal rally where you scored yet again, Max narrowed his eyes at you. “Alright, you asked for it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked suspiciously, but before you could react, Max lunged forward, reaching across the table to swat the ball out of midair.

“Illegal move!” you shouted, but he was already laughing, darting away as you rounded the table after him.

“Oh, come on!” he said between gasps of laughter. “You were getting cocky!”

“Yeah, well, now you’re going to pay for it!”

The chase circled around the living room, your paddle in hand as Max ducked and weaved like a man trying to outrun his fate. When you finally caught him, you jabbed him lightly in the side with the paddle, triumphant.

“Victory is mine,” you declared, panting as you both collapsed onto the couch.

Max grinned, brushing his hair back from his face. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

You laughed, climbing on his chest. “You’re just mad you lost on your own Christmas joke.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, wrapping an arm around you. “But you’re still stuck with me. Ping-pong table and all.”

You shook your head, leaning down and pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. “Guess I’ll allow it.”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The rhythmic thwack of tennis balls echoed through the indoor sports club, blending with the distant chatter of other athletes and the hum of overhead lights. You were on court six, your movements precise and deliberate despite the late hour. The yellow blur of the tennis ball moved in sync with the practiced swing of your racket, a steady reminder of why you dominated your sport.

On the other side of the glass, Max sat in one of the plastic chairs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his eyes following every movement. His friends had left an hour ago, urging him to join them for drinks, but he’d declined. Watching you practice was far more interesting, and besides, he liked being here for you.

You glanced at him between volleys, catching the quiet focus etched into his expression. He wasn’t scrolling on his phone or checking his watch. He was just… watching. You hid a smile, returning your attention to the ball.

When your session wrapped up, you walked over to the bench and started packing your bag. Max stood, making his way toward you.

“You look like a puppy just now,” you teased, not looking up. “All wide-eyed and quiet, following the ball like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.”

“Is that so?” Max replied, his voice amused.

You nodded, zipping up your bag before finally meeting his gaze. “Despite being a proud cat dad, you have strong puppy energy sometimes.”

Max shrugged, standing close behind you now. “Maybe I’m both,” he said, leaning in. His lips brushed your cheek in a quick, affectionate kiss.

“Max!” you protested, laughing as you twisted away. “I’m sweaty, don’t do that!”

He only grinned, ignoring your protests as he kissed your cheek again, then your temple, and once more on your jawline for good measure.

“Seriously!” you giggled, swatting at him lightly.

“I don’t care,” he said softly, pulling you into a hug that left no room for argument. “You’re my sweaty puppy-cat energy girlfriend, and I’m good with that.”

You groaned playfully, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me,” he said with a satisfied grin, grabbing your bag for you.

You didn’t argue as he slung it over his shoulder and took your hand, leading you toward the exit. The night was cold and crisp outside, but Max’s warmth was constant, a reminder that no matter the setting—on a racetrack, on a tennis court, or anywhere in between—you were stuck and couldn’t get rid of this stupid silly blond man.

[starmocha]

pain is all you'll find [Sylus/Reader ★ 630 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] It was karaoke night at Onychinus’ base. A/N: I am so, so sorry. I have no excuses for this one. It’s just full-on crack.

It was karaoke night at Onychinus’ base.

You didn’t even realize Onychinus had karaoke nights, but here you were in a room surrounded by other henchmen all applauding and cheering its fearless leader as he wailed—er, sang—the fourth song of the night.

You grimaced, and chugged your bottle of beer, wishing the alcohol would just take effect already. Beside you, Luke and Kieran were also happily (and soberly?) applauding Sylus. They couldn’t possibly be enjoying his cat-yowling rendition of Careless Whisper, could they? It was honestly hard to tell since the twins refused to remove their masks. The masks were probably there to hide their suffering, you thought grimly, unable to think of any other plausible reasoning in your semi-tipsy state.

When you turned your sight back to the TV screen and the current talentless singer hogging the mic, your cheeks pinked up when you made eye contact with Sylus and he winked at you. For just an instance, you felt your stomach flipped, captivated by his smoldering eyes and suave smile.

And then he opened his mouth again. You mentally screamed in agony, wondering why a good person like yourself was being punished so cruelly like this.

You wanted to bury your head in your arms, or maybe suffocate yourself with these tacky looking throw pillows at Onychinus’ base. Hell, you would even happily let Mephisto peck your eyes out if it meant ending this torment. How could someone with a great—no, sexy—speaking voice not be able to carry a goddamned tune? God truly had a very particular sense of humor, you realized, as you forced a stiff smile and shakily gave Sylus a thumb up.

When the song finally ended (dear god, why did he pick the extended version?), you finally let out the breath you were holding in. You politely clapped and smiled, thinking Sylus was about to return to his seat next to you, but you instantly froze mid-clap, face paling as you watched him scrolled through the song list once more.

He smiled. You worried.

Your ears bled as he rasped the first three verses, before belting out: “Hello, is it me you're looking for?”

Onychinus henchmen were clapping and cheering, and you couldn’t take this anymore. You leaned over to both Luke and Kieran, hissing sharply, “You guys can’t possibly be enjoying these murders on classic songs, right?”

You blinked, dumbfounded, when Luke casually pulled out an earplug.

“Did you say something, Miss Hunter?”

Kieran pulled both of his own earplugs out. “What’s wrong?”

“You guys have been…”

“Oh, damn,” Luke said, reaching into his pocket, “I forgot to give you yours. My bad, Miss Hunter.”

You curiously received a pair of earplugs and you looked up, seeing Kieran motioning you to put them on. The moment you did, you realized that silence truly was golden. You cracked a grin to the twins.

Suddenly you found you were enjoying Sylus’ performance more. All eye candy and not a fucking tuneless sound out of him. Thank fucking god, you thought, this time joining Luke and Kieran in their zealous cheering.

Everything went on well for a few minutes, but unfortunately, the night seemed to drag on, and everyone watched with dismay as the leader of Onychinus showed that he had no intention of letting anyone else have the mic. Your brief moment of faux enthusiasm died down after each song he performed until you could do nothing but mentally sighed as you clapped like a trained seal with your stupidly rigid smile plastered on your face.

You watched the lyrics danced on the TV screen as Sylus ‘sang’ along: Welcome to your life.

You mentally groaned for the umpteenth time. It was going to be a long, long fucking night. Goddamnit.

[speed-world]

do you think you could do one with Shadow milk cookie x reader, where reader is like his stage assistant, hypeman, supporting role kind of thing, reader is like fully fine with atrocities shadow milk

maybe something with like reader also having been sealed separately from the beasts so shadow milk would probably have to try and find where reader was sealed while the brave and others were running around

- :D

His partner in crime

You and Shadow Milk Cookie were almost like The Joker and Harley Quinn (minus the cycle of abuse-)

He always loves and appreciates whenever you help him out in setting up a play. Whether that be designing the characters with him, arranging the props and stage in the best condition, and even just rooting for him!

There are even times when you help him write out the script for his plays, which he adores so so very much!!

He’ll always make a point to credit you in the most dramatic and loving manner whenever you help him. And boy do I mean dramatic-

“Thank you all so so so so much for enjoying the show! But the real star that deserves the glory is my dazzling, extraordinary, and adorable~…Y/N Cookie!!!”

A giant spotlight was cast on you as confetti and ribbons popped out all over the audience. You smiled and bowed as Shadow Milk applauded you, and after a while, everyone started applauding you!! If they didn’t, then the jester made sure they would cheer for his assistant…”

There are times where in the middle of his performance, he allows a pause for you to applaud and cheer and for him!

Of course, all of the audience is free to do the same whenever that brief moment comes, but usually it’s only you. Granted, all he cares about is your praise and appreciation, so he doesn’t care if you’re the only one clapping for him.

When he was imprisoned by the Witches, you were…displaced. The Witches knew your connection to Shadow Milk, and sealed you to the far ends of Earthbread outside of the Beast-Yeast continent.

Shadow Milk was furious beyond belief when he saw you being sealed up too. You weren’t a Beast or did anything wrong like he did, so why were you being punished like this?!

It hurt him so much, especially because he couldn’t do anything but sit in that dang tree…

Granted, this wouldn’t stop you from doing everything you could to get back to Beast-Yeast, or more get back to Shadow Milk

When you two were finally reunited in the Faerie Kingdom, after both your seals were broken down, you both ignored GingerBrave, Elder Faerie, and everyone else there and went to a discreet place to yourselves.

While you were reconnecting the lost time, he told you about Pure Vanilla and the Witches, and you’d be right there to hold him if he got shaken up or cried when mentioning them. You hated the witches and Purr Vanilla Cookie just as much, if not more than he did.

When Pure Vanilla and his company caught up to you, it was you who personally a play where certain caricatures would reference the witches, Pure Vanilla, or any others that Shadow Milk wasn’t fond of. You wouldn’t have any mercy in disrespecting said caricatures in the plays, which Shadow Milk loved and cheered for!!

No matter what, you were always there to support Shadow Milk and his crazy antics. He would do the same, loving you and being with you through every single thing.

[hubbvrd]

Little Burrow | Joe Burrow

In which little burrow suprises his dad during training

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Mommy! Mommy! I'm ready," y/n's son Mason shouted as he came running into the kitchen.

Y/n lifted her head from the lunch box she was preparing for her three-year-old son and looked over at Mason.

The little blond-haired boy proudly presented his mother with his Bengals jersey, which he was wearing backwards, but looked so proud because he had put it on by himself, so y/n let out a soft "naaw" before lifting her son up and gently tickling his belly, causing him to giggle loudly. 

"You did great, buddy. But we need to get your jersey on right, okay?" Smiling, y/n sat her son down on the countertop and began to put the Burrow jersey, which he wore almost daily, on him the right way around.

"Who dey think gonna beat dem Bengals? Nobody!" , Mason began to chant after wearing the jersey the right way around and snagging a cracker from the lunchbox y/n had just prepared.

"I hear you're ready to cheer on Daddy and the rest of the team at practice already?"  Y/n lifted her son up to put him back on the ground, where he gave her a big grin and then clapped his hands enthusiastically and shouted "yes."

Just like Joe, his son shared an enthusiasm for football, so much so that Mason had been talking about nothing else at times since he could talk, and y/n wouldn't be surprised if their son together eventually followed in Joe's footsteps.

"Football with?" , Mason asked y/n as she stowed the lunchbox in Mason's backpack and then tucked her cell phone and front door key into her purse.

"We don't need that one. There are lots of them at Daddy's trainings camp. I'm sure you'll get to play with one." She tousled Mason's hair, which made him giggle.

"Come on, let's go see Daddy."

She picked her son up and carried him into the car, where she put him in his car seat, buckled him in, and moments later left the garage with the car and headed to the training area with Mason to surprise Joe.

—

"Mommy! Mommy! Hurry! "Mason shouted excitedly when they arrived at the training ground and could hear the shouting of the team from far away.

"We're almost there!" y/n smirked slightly as she grabbed Mason's hand and ran over to the field with her excited son, who kept pulling on his mother's hand to show her to hurry.

From a distance, she recognized the team, which was completely engrossed in practicing a few plays, so that y/n and Mason could sneak up unnoticed, although y/n was sure that Mason would betray them sooner or later.

"Daddy?" , Mason tilted his head questioningly as the two arrived at the edge of the field and y/n spread out a blanket on which she and Mason could sit for the next few minutes, keeping Mason occupied every now and then when he wasn't excitedly watching them practice.

"Daddy's over there," , y/n said as she pulled Mason onto her lap and pointed her fingers over to the field where number nine was located.

Wide-eyed, Mason watched his father begin to practice a few throws, at which point Mason kept applauding and began to giggle softly.

With a smile on her lips, y/n watched her son.

"Hello Mason, hello y/n. Good to see you guys." , the suddenly heard Zac's voice next to her, so she lifted her head and smiled at the head coach.

"Hey, Zac. You alright?" Y/n stood up to greet Zac with a quick hug before Zac crouched down and gently tickled Mason's stomach.

"All great and I see you guys are too, right buddy? Are you rooting for your daddy?"

Mason answered Zac with a giggle and then began clapping his hands.

"He couldn't wait to get back here. He actually wears the jersey almost every day." , y/n said rolling his eyes slightly, which made Zac laugh softly.

"That's great, isn't it? That way we're already working on good young talent. Joe said he should play football soon too?"

"No," y/n said quickly, but had to grin.

"I see you haven't agreed yet," Zac replied with a grin, and then picked up Mason, who began to sing The Bengal Song again.

"Shall we go say hi to your daddy and do some exercises with him?"

Zac got a wild nod in response, so the Bengals' boss headed out onto the field with Mason on his arm.

"Listen up guys! I've got a new arrival here!" he shouted across the field, causing everyone to pause in their movement and look to Zac and Mason.

Immediately, the players' expressions brightened and they all began to greet Mason in confusion, causing him to press himself slightly shyly against Zac.

"Look, there's Daddy," he distracted Mason as they came to a stop just before Joe.

He lowered Mason, who moments later spotted Joe and ran toward him, stumbling slightly.

"Hey, Buddy," Joe, who by now had crouched down and spread his arms, greeted his son, who threw himself into his arms.

"Daddy! Daddy!" , his son shouted excitedly and began to tell him that he was wearing Joe's jersey and was eager to play with him.

With a big grin on his lips, Joe pressed a kiss to his son's forehead before picking him up and carrying him over to Logan, Sam and Tee.

"Hey little superstar," Sam greeted the little one and tousled him through his hair, causing Mason to giggle softly.

"Are you training with us today?" , Logan asked Mason, who started nodding vigorously shortly after, making the three of them laugh.

"Let's go then." With a grin on his lips, Tee grabbed the football and thus the four of them began to play a little football with Mason, cheering loudly for Mason every time he threw or caught the ball.

And from the edge of the field, y/n watched them grinning broadly while she held the cell phone in her hand and filmed them all for some time to have some memory of today.

—

"You really need to come back here with Mason" , Logan all but pleaded as he pulled y/n into a tight hug of greeting, then gave her a pleading look as he let her go again.

"Oh, yeah." , Sam agreed with him.

"Please," , Tee was almost pleading.

"I wouldn't mind either" , Joe agreed with his colleagues, after pressing a kiss to y/n's lips. He held the sleeping Mason in his arms, who had fallen asleep after an exciting half hour playing with the boys.

"Don't worry, boys. I'm sure Mason will be begging me to come back here every day now. And he won't stop until he's big enough to be on the field himself."

A big grin formed on the faces of Logan, Sam and Tee and they were satisfied with the answer, so after a short small talk they disappeared into the cabin and left the little family alone.

"That was really a lot of fun. I hope to do this a lot with Mason," Joe enthused. Joe enthused, unaware that y/n had prepared something for Joe and Mason at home, which of course had to do with football.

And who knew if Joe himself would be sitting in the stadium in a few years to watch his own son play and cheer him on.