metalfort

[giveafike]

TLDR: Halloween with your boyfriend, Ben!

Word count + info: 4.8k. Dialogue (conversation and azzie commentary throughout).

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW but also...lwky PG 13. Suggestive themes, but nothing too NSFW. Mention of a burn injury and gagging in between (in a SFW way) so if that's something to put you off, read cautiously!

Azzie Notes ✚: YAYY halloween post! I couldn't pick what kind of blurb to write so...I wrote a bunch of mini ones! I tried something new, idk if I fw this format or not, you guys lmk honestly how you feel about bulleted posts.

ALSO! Stay safe tonight guys! Idk about you guys but where I'm from, Halloween can get a bit crazy or out of control, so whatever you do tonight, be responsible and sensible for this weekend! And happy Diwali to anyone celebrating - diye jalein aur mithaiyan chalen 🤭 bas khushiyaan hi khushiyaan ho (someone send me ukadiche modak PUHLEASE) 🤍🪔

I'm literally writing this part on the train home from work lmao, I'm gonna get on my laptop and get the big story up too, idk why it didn't upload yday but it's not here in my drafts or scheduled anymore! I'll figure it out tho dw.

Socials + Updates: twitter ( @azziegivesafike)

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Halloween'ing - B.T.S.

It must've been the very first time Ben was home for a holiday that wasn't Christmas or New Year's and God, were you excited.

Sure, losing in Paris sucked but the amount of time you could spend and things you could do together was exhilarating. You were practically buzzing off of the walls with ideas.

Halloween wasn't something you had given much care or notice to since your childhood, but now there was a whole new rush of activities and warmth surrounding the beautiful season, something you welcomed warmly.

how many homemade treats you could make, pumpkin carving with Ben, maybe even dress up together as a couple...

Ben was more eager about the idea of candy (and you in a sexy Halloween costume)

You could drone on and on about how good those Trader Joe Pumpkin Spice cookies were, you never expected yourself to fall for the Pumpkin Spice craze but here you were, talking Ben's ear off.

He rolled his eyes pretending to be nonchalant

even though he'd be reaching for another cookie within a few minutes.

"Just need to check they're not poisoned...are these laced with sumn'?"

A couple of days later, when you and Ben got back from the pumpkin patch, you laid out your carving kit on the island, practically jumping to get stuck in.

Was far from picture-perfect though.

Ben's kryptonite was the damn pumpkin from the get-go.

His shoulders are up to his ears as he leans over his pumpkin, cautiously poking at the hollowed-out insides with a look of pure dread.

You’ve literally provided him with every scooper and tool imaginable, trying to make this as clean as possible, but he’s still staring into the pumpkin like it’s some kind of orange horror show.

He holds his breath, then takes a tentative scoop, immediately gagging at the smell.

“Oh my god…babe, it’s like-” he shudders, hand over his nose, “like mouldy socks and old food had a baby.”

His face scrunches up as he recoils, practically jumping back. “Nah, no way.”

The sight is so absurd you burst into laughter, doubling over as he waves his hands like he’s trying to shake off the memory. "It’s not that bad! See!” you say, holding up a slimy handful of seeds with a wicked grin.

He gags, shuddering and shuts his eyes.

You’re insane if you think this is normal. This pumpkin needs, like, a hazmat suit or something.”

He flinches again, rubbing his nose like he can’t get the smell out of it, even though he hasn’t touched it with his bare hands yet.

He's deadass wearing medical gloves for this.

“Ben,” you gasp between laughs, wiping a tear from your eye. “It’s just a pumpkin. You’re acting like it’s a dead possum or something!”

“Smells like one,” he mutters darkly, gingerly pushing the spoon back toward the orange insides, his hand shaking just enough to make you lose it all over again.

Took maybe like, an hour and a half for him to de-gut the pumpkin

each attempt is met with a new level of melodrama, and by the fourth scoop, you’re clutching your sides, actually having to pause because you can barely breathe from laughing so hard.

He manages to carve out some semblance of a face, albeit a lopsided one with stupid teeth and tiny eyes that look more befuddled than scary.

“See? Told you I could do it,” he says, though his voice is shaky as if he’s barely recovered from a traumatising experience.

Such a diva, oh my god bruh.

You take one look at the pumpkin’s wonky, wide-eyed expression and nearly snort.

It's giving that "dumb ahh pumpkin" TikTok trend.

It’s actually the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen.

“Ben, it’s adorable.”

“S’posed to be scary…”

You glance over at him, lips twitching as you pull out your phone, quietly queuing up that TikTok audio. You hold in your laughter as you film the pumpkin with the distorted “pumpkin!” sound blaring, then pan the camera up to Ben.

The look of stunned betrayal on his face as he realises what you’ve done is absolutely priceless, his jaw dropping before he tries to reach for the phone.

The video catches his reaction in perfect two-second glory, and you both watch it back, his stunned face paired with the ridiculous audio, unable to stop laughing.

As you clean up, (Ben finally taking off his surgical blue gloves and scrubbing his hands away like a surgeon) you set the pumpkins outside and place the tealight candles inside, smiling at your actually scary pumpkin and...

that dumb pumpkin Ben made.

It's cute though, side by side, in its own way.

But you can't spend forever admiring them, it's time to make the snacks for your movie marathon tonight!

It was Ben's idea, he had a list of candy to buy and was on popcorn duty but the real star of the show was gonna be the Halloween classic; candy apples.

You both set up in the kitchen, bowls and ingredients spread out, ready to take on the challenge together.

Ben eyes the setup, grinning and rolling up his sleeves like he’s ready to make a masterpiece, even if you’re still suspicious of his pumpkin-carving skills.

The air is still sweet from the pumpkin guts, but with the sugar and cinnamon in the mix now, the atmosphere feels a bit warmer and cozier.

"Just you watch,” he says, giving you a confident wink. “I can make these apples look better than anything you’d find at a fair.”

It's adorable seeing Ben so confident and yet so easy by your side, almost competitive in his ways but not actually challenging or pushing you.

As you dip the apples one by one into the pot of Ben's hot sugar syrup, the colours come out glossy and bright red.

He might be onto something, these are looking pretty good!

As you both move onto the 4th one, you hear a small sizzle, then a loud, sharp hiss.

“Oh—ow, ow! Damn, that’s hot as fuck!”

You grab his hand immediately, your fingers gently running over the reddening spot on his palm.

“Ben! I told you to be careful! Sugar burns like crazy.”

“I knowwwww, I know,” he whines, wincing.

You lead him over to the sink and run cool water over his hand. You can’t help but smile softly as you fuss over him, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles while the cold water soothes his burn, holding his fingers in your hand as you focus on the pained spot.

“You’re such a disaster in the kitchen, you know that?”

“Hey, I was just…testing the temperature, tha's all.”

You roll your eyes and wrap his hand in a small ice pack for a bit, lingering there in the quiet, the coolness of the ice melting away any sting, until his hand feels better and you’re ready to tackle the apples again.

But no sooner than you start, he picks one up-

idiot

eyeing it as if he’s about to bite down without a second thought.

“BEN, ITS STILL SCALDING PUT IT DOW-”

You grab his wrist moving the semi-hardened apple away before he injures himself more.

"Just testin' your reflexes" he mumbles, laughing a bit.

"Sure."

Ben stepped out to light your pumpkins on the porch doorstep as the sun set, smiling and taking a quick photo, admiring the silly tradition spent together.

The house filled with the scent of caramel, you and Ben settle under a pile of blankets over you both, a bowl of popcorn wedged between your legs, and an assortment of snacks within easy reach for a spooky movie marathon.

He went out for a bit to "go grab something"

only to come back with some stupid clown mask, hiding behind the sofa to startle you.

After you screamed and he apologised with kisses and cuddles (after minutes of laughing and mocking you), you dimmed the lights and settled in, starting with a classic slasher that sets the spooky mood right from the start.

It doesn’t take long for the jump scares to start, and though you brace yourself, there’s one moment that catches you off guard, making you gasp and clutch his arm tightly. Ben laughs, his hand sliding around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“Spooked already?”

“No! Not scared, just…caught off guard.”

Ben nestles his head against yours, finding himself kissing the top of your head, his arm around you as he rubs soothing circles on your arm.

He's doing all that to distract himself from the jumpscares btw.

Bc he's getting just as startled as you, if not more.

He completely zones out while watching and the jumpscares jolt through him, snapping him back to the movie plot, which then scares him even more - like, wdym there's a killer on the loose and he's literally right beside the main character?!?

But comforting you, in its odd way makes him feel comforted and safe too.

He can't help but find himself enthralled in all the silly traditions and festivities around Halloween just because it's by your side.

As the next one rolls in, he glances down at you and peppers kisses along your hairline, his lips warm and gentle.

Though you’re locked in and wrapped up in the tension of the movie, you feel safe and completely at ease in his arms.

Doesn't last long though.

As the hours creep into the deep of night it seems like the movies get spookier, creepier, and more disturbing, and his thumb rubs soft circles on your shoulder whenever a scene begins, almost instinctively comforting you as he whispers soft reassurances.

You can't even listen to what he's saying, your clammy hands gripping his arm as you squeal, failing to tear your eyes away.

"Oh my god, Be- BEN!! OH MY GOD!"

He just covers your eyes with his hand

"Ben, I can't see"

"Good, it's awful, don't watch this scene"

He feels super cool and smart for pulling that move out btw. ��Just another day of protecting my girl”

By the time the credits roll on the last film, you’re tucked against him, drowsy, exhausted and a sugar crash hitting you as the remains of the candied apples and popcorn are strewn over the table.

He glances down, his fingers brushing your cheek, and tilts your chin up for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“Still scared?” he asks in a soft voice.

“Maybe a little,"

“Good,” he murmurs, his smile warm. “Means I get to hold you all night."

What an opportunist.

It's the night before Halloween before you know it, the excitement of pumpkin carving, candied apples, and scary movies behind you.

Ben suggests a late-night drive!

"Let's see the decorations, it's a trip down my memory lane"

He's got that :D face going on, how could you even resist?

The air is cool and crisp as you both pile into his car, wrapped in hoodies and each other’s warmth.

Ben reaches over, like he always does, lacing his fingers with yours as he pulls out of the driveway, his thumb brushing soft, slow circles over your hand.

The neighbourhood is dressed for the season, with yards filled with skeletons, giant spiders, and strings of orange and purple lights that flicker in the dark.

Some houses go all out, with life-size ghost projections, speakers, massive jumpscare decorations and fog machines casting an eerie glow across the lawns, while others keep it simple with a row of glowing pumpkins along the steps.

It’s like Halloween magic has taken over, and the streets are a soft blend of shadows and a warm, festive glow amidst the golden leaves scattered all over.

“See that one? That’s where the Johnsons live. They’ve been doin’ that witch since I was like, I dunno, 10? Never changes. Every year, same decorations.”

Ben points out more houses, telling you which ones hand out full-size candy bars, which houses skimped out and which ones used to scare him when he and Emma were kids.

“You’d be one of those kids who scoped out the best houses before Halloween, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely. Me, Emma and my buddies’d race for the full-sized bars, but if we made it to Mr. O’Malley’s house last? He’d run outta candy and give us IOU's for his store instead. That was the jackpot right there,” He laughs, squeezing your hand as he reminisces.

You nod, listening as he goes on, getting lost in the stories, the way his eyes sparkle a bit more with each memory. He talks about the high school haunted houses, how his friends would sneak around, trying to out-scare the actors, and the endless piles of candy that took him weeks to finish.

How Emma wouldn't let him tag along with her and her friends because he was embarrassing her.

His voice softens as he describes the little thrills and mischievous moments, almost as if Halloween itself has this permanent spot in his heart.

He drives slower, letting the headlights illuminate the way as you soak in the charm of it all and the softness of being alone together.

You rest your head against the window, his hand warm in yours, the night stretching on in the glow of the lights and the quiet roads.

“Hard to believe I get to spend it with the love of my life this year,” he says after a while, glancing over with a soft smile, his voice is barely above a whisper.

It's almost like he was saying it to himself, more than to you.

You kiss the back of his hand, holding it there, feeling the warmth of the moment entirely.

As you drive past another house, one with an elaborate ghost setup and an old-fashioned lamp swinging like a haunted porch light, he points, chuckling. “Man, they’d have the best haunted houses. I’d be scared stiff. Now? Not so much.”

"Uh-huh, sure, Ben. I reckon you'd still get scared."

"We can pretend like I’m the brave one.”

“Oh, so you’re brave now?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Only when you’re here,” he says, brushing a soft kiss over your knuckles.

"So cheesy, Shelton"

"And you eat it up every time" he quips back, smiling.

The drive back is peaceful, almost like you’re kids again, wrapped in an innocent kind of wonder and admiration that the holiday brings.

When he finally pulls into his driveway, he parks but doesn’t make a move to get out.

Instead, he rests his head on the seat, just watching you, studying you.

The moonlight catches in his eyes, and he gives you that sweet, sleepy look that’s filled with all the warmth and happiness you could ask for, both of you bathed in the moonlight together.

The next day is Halloween, and no surprise, Ben forgot to mention something:

there's a party...

and he said you're going....

"Ben, what the FUCK are we gonna wear? I don't even have anything remotely close to a costume and-"

"Victoria's Secret model?"

He gets a punch to the arm for that quip. He had that ready and blurted it out wayyyy too quickly.

Once again, he's an opportunist!

Can't fault him! Don't hate the player, hate the game or whatever those finance bros say.

You both end up going to a costume warehouse, which, to no surprise (except Ben's), is practically ransacked and has just a small selection left.

"Wow! These racks and shelves are almost empty!"

"Yeah Ben, it's quite literally Halloween day..."

"Oh, yeah..."

"yep."

By the time you make your way to the ladies' section, Ben’s excitement is borderline overwhelming.

He's tossing costumes in your direction, with each pick, his grin only grows, that voice of his thickening with each comment.

Bet you can't guess what kind of costumes he's looking at!

“Alright, babe, here’s what I’m thinkin’.”

He hands you a bag with a red devil outfit...

...which is basically a glorified bodysuit.

“This, or-wait, wait, wait…”

He reaches back and pulls out a barely-there nurse outfit.

“Maybe this? C’mon, tell me you wouldn’t look hot as hell in it.”

"Oh my god, Catwoman?! Baby...Catwoman! You'd look so fuckin' good as...wait what's this one? Oh! Or, how about a cop? It comes with handcuffs!!!"

He's practically blushing with several skimpy costumes in his arms, a gummy smile wide, and eyes massive like a teenager looking at a Playboy magazine for the first time.

“I was actually thinking… Fiona, from Shrek. The green body paint, prosthetic nose and all.”

His face falls in sheer horror.

He just stands there, slackjawed, like you’ve crushed his biggest dreams.

“Fiona…as in an ogre? He says the word like it’s filthy like he’s never even wanted to say it out loud.

“Yep! I could even add some fake dirt on my body, really make it realistic…”

Ben’s just staring at you, his face still frozen in disbelief. “Naw…nah, you didn’t just say that.”

He waves a hand up and down in front of you like he’s trying to wipe the thought from his mind.

“Babe, we’re supposed to look good, not…swampy.”

With a grin, you roll your eyes and you eventually head toward the dressing room, pulling on the first costume in his pile that he gave you to throw on.

Of course, it's a flirty Snow White costume; a corset with puff sleeves and tiny skirt, knee-high socks and a headband. When you step out, Ben’s mouth drops again, but this time with a grin that spreads across his face.

“See now that is what I’m talkin’ about,” he drawls, sliding a hand around your waist, fingers tracing the fabric. “Got me forgettin’ my own name…”

You roll your eyes, swatting his hand away. “Ben, it’s just Snow White!”

“Just Snow White?” he repeats, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m thinkin’ you’re the finest Snow White.” His fingers drift just a bit too low, making you laugh as you smack his hand away again.

Back in the dressing room, you slip into the next one, a green Tinkerbell dress that’s even shorter and lined with sparkles.

You don’t even have to walk out fully before Ben’s already there, grinning like he’s been waiting for hours.

“Look at you, my lil’ pixie…” He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close, lips brushing your ear. “Darlin’, I don’t think I’m gonna let you wear this one outta my sight.”

“Are you even paying attention to the costumes or are you just looking for excuses?” you tease.

You're trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as his eyes practically undress you on the spot.

“Alright, alright.” He laughs, backing off as you return to the dressing room one more time to pull on the cop outfit.

His eyes roam over every inch, pausing at the handcuffs dangling from your fingers and the baton tucked into your belt, wrapped around your hips.

“Oh, hell yeah,” he mutters, his gaze darkening. He steps up, his hands back on your waist, fingers digging in a little tighter.

“You’re arrestin’ me, right? Pleaseeee say you’re here to arrest me.”

“You need to behave if we're gonna get out of this store with a costume for us,” you say, laughing as he tugs you closer, his eyes glued to the baton you’re tapping on his shoulder.

“Not a chance, babe.” He grins, leaning in. “Now, why don’t I go grab that badge of yours so I can behave just a lil worse…”

You shove him off with a scoff and an eye roll but that smile on your face deceived your annoyed expression.

You had a little plan schemed, all look you’d picked, your surprise masterpiece:

a head-to-toe roach costume with long, wiry legs, little antennae, and bug eyes on top.

You wriggle into the thick styrofoam costume, taking a deep breath before stepping out in all your creepy-crawly glory.

“Benny?” you call in a sing song voice, trying to keep a straight face. “Got the perfect costume.”

He turns, expecting another flirty outfit, and instead just stands there, blinking.

He’s completely silent.

A whole ten seconds pass before he finally clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…Nah, babe,” he says, voice almost pitying. “Nah, this…this just ain’t right. Not right at all.”

You hold up your arms and wiggle the little roach legs at him, the same way you wiggled in the Snow White costume.

“What, it’s not cute?”

“I- baby, look- you know I love you…” he starts, trying and failing to keep from laughing as he waves at you. “But I just can’t- I can’t even look at you right now. That’s straight-up trauma in a costume.” He finally lets out a snort, covering his face with his hands.

Finally, after giving him a good laugh, you change into the last one, the one you’ve both been waiting for.

It’s an angel costume with a touch of elegance: a top made of shimmering gold metal feathers that shine under the store lights, a golden headpiece that makes you look almost ethereal, and long, graceful wings. The skirt flares out in layers of white and gold, making you look like you’ve stepped straight out of a dream.

When you step out, Ben’s quiet, the devilish grin on his face replaced by something a little softer, his breath hitching a bit, his gaze a little more serious as he takes you in.

“Now this,” he says, moving closer, reaching for your hand. “This is somethin’ else, darlin’. You look exactly what you are, an angel.”

“Good enough for Halloween?” you ask, giving a little twirl as the golden wings glint in the light.

“Oh, way better.” He nods, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Cause I’ll be right there as your devil.”

He hands you the bag for his costume, a black shirt, unbuttoned pretty low, black pants, and, of course, dark wings and horns.

“We’re gonna make one hell of a pair.” His gaze drifts over you again, taking in every detail.

“Angel like you with a devil like me might just be our best look yet.”

From the look in his eyes, you know this Halloween party is going to be a night to remember.

He paid for the costumes of course, btw.

Only after making a million innuendos about you being an angel.

"Y'know I thought angels were pure, you can get pretty nasty when you-"

"Shut it."

"Yes, m'darlin' ".

As you approach the house party, the bass thumps in your chest, seeing all sorts of costumes around you, some faces familiar to Ben, childhood friends and college peers alike.

After a few shots, a couple of drinking games and slurred conversations, you and Ben melt into each other in the cramped living room, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, fingers dipping dangerously low.

His other hand slips along the curve of your hip, thumb grazing your bare skin, sending a thrill up your spine.

The dim lights reflect off your golden feathers, casting a halo around you, but Ben’s dark eyes are glued to yours, unrepentant, that devilish grin driving you insane.

How in character!

His lips brush your ear, his breath warm and his words slurred and heavy with a bit too much vodka.

“You’re… somethin' else tonight, y’know that?” he murmurs, words melting into the bass line, his drawl thicker, slow and dragging as he pulls you even closer.

“Got every guy in here starin' at my angel…”

You laugh, tipsy, rolling your eyes. “Pretty sure they’re all lookin’ at you, devil boy.”

He just smiles, his hands sliding lower, pressing you tight against him as he lets out a low laugh. “Naw, they’re jealous,” he mumbles, lips grazing your neck as he speaks. “Cause I’m the only one you’re gettin’ all worked up over…”

You feel the heat rising between you two, the music, the drinks, the dim lights casting everything in a hazy blur.

He pulls you in, tilting your face up, his lips finding yours, messy and rough as if he’s been waiting all night to feel your mouth on his.

His hand cradles your face, fingers slipping into your hair, holding your jaw, tugging you close as he kisses you like he’s been starving for it.

He tastes like dark liquor and something a little sweeter, and when you pull away, you can’t tell if it’s his lips that are wet or yours.

He’s breathing heavily, eyes locked on you, that stupid, sinful grin spreading wider.

“Wanna get outta here?” he whispers, voice barely louder than the music.

You don’t even hesitate, nodding as he takes your hand and tugs you through the crowd, your pulse racing.

His grip is tight, his eyes glinting with that familiar, heated look, and you can’t help but laugh as he leads you out of the house and into the warm Floridian night.

You barely make it to outside, stumbling onto the lawn, before his hands are on you again, pressing you against the trunk of a tree, his mouth crashing into yours. You moan into him, hands running over his chest, feeling the heat radiating off him even through his shirt.

“Oh, Ben…” you breathe, leaning back as he drags his mouth along your neck, nipping and teasing, his laughter low and husky against your skin.

“God, you’re perfect,” he slurs, mouth brushing up the line of your jaw as his hand slides around your waist.

You’re ready for him to take you right then and there, leaves crunching underfoot, your fingers slipping under his shirt, tugging it open just a little further when-

“Wait, wait, wait,” he mutters, pulling back suddenly.

His eyes are wide and hazy, his head perks up as he looks over his shoulder for a moment and blinks, his mouth twisting into a grin as he takes your hand again.

“Hold up. Got an even better idea.”

You blink, trying to catch your breath, utterly dazed. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”

He’s already leading you down the sidewalk, back towards the rows of decorated houses, each porch lit up with Halloween lights and pumpkins.

You stop dead in your tracks, your lips still swollen from his kisses, realising he’s actually serious.

“Ben, you’re not-no way, no shot.” You laugh, almost disbelieving as he walks up the first driveway, holding your hand and looking back with that same goofy smile.

No way.

“Trick or treatin'!” he says, completely earnest, already reaching for the doorbell.

He's looking at you all innocent, like he wasn't being handsy with you just 2 minutes ago.

You stare at him, utterly floored. “Ben, you’re seriously…you’re just gonna go trick-or-treating? Right now? Like this?”

“Hell yeah!” he says, as if this is the most normal thing in the world, shrugging.

“I’m in costume, you’re in costume…what’s stoppin’ us?”

Before you can even answer, the door swings open, revealing an elderly woman with a massive bowl of candy. She takes one look at Ben in his black wings, the gold feathers shining around you, and lets out a cackle of laughter.

“Now, I didn’t expect trick-or-treaters this age tonight!” she says, eyes bright with amusement as she holds the candy out. “You two are just adorable. D'ya need a bag, hun?”

Ben grins, holding his hand out. “Thank you, ma’am. I mean…Halloween’s all about free candy, right?”

His boyish cheeky charm works like a treat, even on the old ones. smh.

With a warm chuckle, she drops a couple of candy bars into his hands before handing him a bag before she waves goodbye.

Ben shoves the candy in, already heading down to the next house, practically skipping with that same childish grin.

“C’mon, m'angel, let’s go score some more!”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you trail along beside him.

The night takes on a new light, the alcohol still buzzing through you both as you hit every house on the block, each one adding more candy to Ben’s rapidly filling bag.

He grabs an empty trick-or-treat bag left on a stoop, offering it to you with a dramatic flourish, and before long, you’re both stumbling from house to house, holding hands and giggling like you’re kids again.

Ben feeds you chocolate in between houses, his eyes soft and a little drowsy, that irresistible grin plastered on his face.

The two of you wander holding hands, his devil horns slightly askew, his shirt still messily half-buttoned as you both talk in low, slurred voices.

Somewhere along the way, you both end up sitting on the curb since your feet hurt.

You both go digging through the bags like kids, surrounded by a mix of Reese’s, Milky Ways, and Twix bars.

“Still thinkin’ you’re too old for trick-or-treatin’?” he teases, popping a Snickers in his mouth.

“Fine,” you admit, laughing, leaning into his side. “Guess I can kinda see the appeal.”

He just grins, sliding his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in as the streetlights flicker above you, pressing soft kisses to your hair.

In the quiet night, surrounded by candy wrappers and the warm glow of Halloween night, you’re perfectly happy, just you, your devil, and a bag full of treats.

There was nothing sweeter than spending Halloween with Ben <33

[supermaks]

Someone needs to write the jhonny herbert x max verstappen enemies to lovers fic... I'm sorry

Literally closest I can get to ur ask I swear but ummm heres a deep dive into herb/max and stewarding in general ig dont u be sorry Im the 1 whos gotta beg ur forgiveness for this because nobody cares u definitely wanted none of this and yet. Heres some chronological quotes some opinions and a lil bit of history and idk love u

Bolded segments just mean that I personally find his wording kinda telling or relevant

"What surprised me was when Max had to let Lewis by he moved over on to the sand, off the racing line. (...) He should have forced Lewis to go on the dirt to pass. That’s what I would have done." - JH on a column for Motorsport Magazine in June, 2021

“I think there is an element that Lewis with experience, that he knows when to pull out, but I love Max, I love what he does on the racetrack, I love what he does behind the wheel. These situations are going to happen. Lewis has done it in the past as well. So it is really going to be down to when you pick your moments to say it is not worth the risk. Maybe it was an over-ambitious move but it had to be made. Max was fully committed, perhaps he should have braked or backed out of the throttle but I doubt there was time, and he wanted the pass." - JH post the Monza 2021 crash.

"I think it just shows what Max is willing to do to try and win this World Championship. (...) Although I love Max because of what he does on the race track, I agree with Lewis, he does really push the limits and sometimes he pushes it too much." - JH to Sky in 2021 after Jeddah 2021.

“You’ve got to be selfish, I think, in any sport in many respects to get the best out of yourself, give yourself those race-winning chances and, of course, championships. That’s why he’s a two-time World Champion. Selfishness is something we’ve seen with Fernando Alonso and Michael Schumacher, Ayrton Senna, Alain Prost, the list goes on. So seeing that sort of situation was a bit of a bad taste in your mouth, but you sort of understand it as a sportsman and a Formula 1 driver.” - JH post Brazil 2022 when Max did not let Checo thru despite team orders.

"He’s got the aggressive style that comes with it and there was always a thing, I remember going back to Senna, many people used to gasp when they saw Senna’s helmet in their mirrors and Max has generated a similar thing that when it’s Max behind you, there is sort of a little bit of attention has to be paid for the overtake that you know is going to be coming your way. But that’s part and parcel of what racing is all about. It’s the mind games that come into play at the same time, that’s something he is very, very strong on. (...) I thoroughly enjoy what I see. I was a little bit critical when he kept having his coming togethers with Lewis, for example, and that’s one part of it where I’m like, 'Just do it pure. You’re so, so good at what you do, just do it in a pure, clean way and just show us why you are the best’. He does that, but he has that slightly aggressive style but it actually makes it entertaining as well and he won’t stop doing it, which is great and he shouldn’t stop doing it because I think we all love what he does. - JH to SI in 2023

"I think he's already there as one of the best we've seen. (...) I think with Max to me there is a wow factor. Whatever you think of Max with his elbows out type of racing, that's part of racing to be honest. It's not my style but that really doesn't matter. Because what he actually does with a racing car sometimes is pretty unbelievable. (...) Max will become better than Lewis Hamilton, Lewis was better than Michael Schumacher and Schumacher was better than Senna. It just evolves. - JH in 2023

"It is deliberate which is why I use the word intimidation where he goes to the very limits without getting himself in trouble. But he has always had this in his history. (...) He is a hard racer. He is very, very hard to beat. He intimidates everybody. That intimidation is something that Lewis, Schumacher, and Senna, have always done. I like competition because I think it is a very important part of racing. But I sometimes don’t like it when he gets to the point that you are actually forcing a car off the circuit. That is not what it is all about. It is about placing the car. He does place the car very well, but he just has that tendency to put everyone else in a position which goes beyond the drivers’ unwritten code. That is what we saw in Austria. (...) Will it change his mindset? Probably not. No driver before, like Michael Schumacher, never changed their approach. And I don’t want him to. I find it really exciting. It is just when he gets to that point, he can only blame him. It was very clear to everyone, he would not change his stripes. - JH on Austria 2024 10 sec pen vs Lando

"That showed Max’s rebellious streak. I love that side of him, it is what makes Max, Max, his honest and outspoken character." - JH after giving Max community service for swearing and Max held his own press conference post Singapore 2024

"He’s very worldly. He’s very open to chat about anything and you have a really nice conversation with him. So he was very understanding. He did his outside press conference himself and everything else but that’s good, because that’s part of the character, and the character is something we don’t want to lose. That’s Max. If he was here today, you’d have a bloody good chat with him." - JH post the 20 second penalty in Mexico 2024

Heres an opinion piece from 2021 titled 'Written rules for racing shouldn't exist' — Johnny Herbert. His whole chest honey. Just a taste but pls read the whole thing

Written rules for racing shouldn’t exist, because aggression is part of it and always has been. (...) There’s another word: intimidation. You get drivers who have a persona for being extreme in this regard – but what’s wrong with it? (...) But rules for racing is simply not what it should be about. I know Formula 1 has a driver steward, in this case Derek Warwick who has normally been good at allowing racing to happen, [AN: LMFAOOOO iykyk] and I’ve been the driver steward in the past too. (...) Consistency from corner to corner is also difficult. Remember Turn 3 with Charles and Max in 2019, when Max dived down the inside, took the line and that forced Charles to run wide? That was deemed okay and Max won the race. Very clever from Max. Did he delay steering right a little? Probably. Did he lean on him on the exit? Yes. Good racing. But at Turn 4, it’s a penalty. (...) I feel a reset is required and the drivers have to be involved. I’d get rid of rules for racing and ask drivers if it is acceptable or not. Let them race and sort it out between them. If they go off the track taking the outside line, that was the risk they took. 

Ok I've gone on unhinged rants about herb before I'll try to like take him more seriously here and try to really understand tf his deal is. Lets inspect the initial quotes for a sec.

Theres common elements over the years. Relentless comparisons to other aggressive drivers 'of a different time' ((two in particular)) the word 'intimidation', the acknowledgement of skill, the idealization of 'old school' racing as what Max is able to produce and like a lil bit of an idealization of Max himself. Like . Like me. Like a verstappie. Like 'Max is Max' type of shit we do yk, but whereas somebody like T Krav wud be a lil venomous in tone Herbert is like kicking his feet and giggling but also while holding a sniper rifle aimed directly at Maxs head.

So the whole Max Vershmacher thing. Lets kick that door right open ok. Johnny Herbert was Schumachers teammate and he didnt have a good time. Hes talked about it a lot, how tough it was to always be outpaced, outranked, to feel like he didnt have the team like Michael had the team, like he never got a real shot, even tho he recognizes realistically he wud have lost anyway. ((I'm not saying I believe everything he says, but Im not gonna invalidate how he felt)) So when he compares Max wid Schumacher, hes not just like comparing Max to somebody he raced against, but to a teammate he lost to. Badly. He knows how Michael operates, how Michael drives, those 'mind games', that 'intimidation', those were things he cud not replicate. Where Michael thrived, and continued to thrive wid the people he then took to Ferrari, Herbert failed. Michael created an environment where his 'over-aggression', his 'tactics', his 'selfishness', built him up as 1 of the best of all time, and Max is doing the same, in a completely different formula 1, under a different rule book, in different cars, against a different grid. So while Herbert recognizes Max's craft is ruthless, but intelligent, and precious, hes fed up wid that shit lmfao. No bitch hes HAD it wid some guy wid an weird accent and a temper and a team under his thumb being a cunt on track because he knows how the game is played and he knows how to throw his dice first.

Now Herbert is in a room where he actually has power over him. He can ask Max to battle in a 'pure' way, like he did in that Sports Illustrated interview, as if an actual battle for a world title between 2 machines wid significant pace difference between them can or shud be anything remotely close to 'pure'. Because when people saw Sennas helmet in their mirrors and raced him different that was iconic, the mark of a true racer, real racing, like Herbert said, but wid Max, now, when he defends not just his position, but his title, his name, its profane, its not allowed, and he needs to repent for it. He needs to be punished. Worst part of this to me is that Herbert kinda knows he can do shit like he did in Mexico because Max wont be affected by it. Max wont change. Michael never changed.

A lil bit of history because this is my house. Former drivers only began acting as stewards in 2010. Jean Todt did it as an experiment in response to criticism about 'inconsistency'. 😐😐😐😐 Girl I know just let me remind u they didnt have the halo until 2018. Ok

Until 2010 sometimes u had a whole panel of stewards without any driving experience, and theres plenty u can google about controversial stewarding calls during that time. Herbert was one of the first f1 drivers to act as a steward. So was Prost, and Mansell. Cool. Now lets do a simple exercise. Damon Hill was appointed a steward while Schumi was still driving. Do u think there was anything inconsistent or even perhaps .. controversial about any of those races. Just an example. Ur nodding. We're all nodding

Obvi having actual drivers weight in on decisions regarding motor racing is step forward, wanna make that clear. But these men's contribution to the panel is affected by whatvr the fuck happened during their time as racing drivers, is influenced by their own perception of the racers in question, or the track, or their literal subjective interpretation of the Driving Standard Guidelines. Lets not even get into these Guidelines bro I've called Max an old testament god but literally bar for BAR the bitch is in there

Theres no magical solution for somebody like Herbert and how he behaves when it comes to Max, except maybe holding his hand when hes about to put 20 seconds on dudes head for a 2nd penalty that shud be 5 and being like hey. U just gave him community service for saying a bad word. Have u eaten today, some water, lets go outside. People will point to other stewards and be like but they're biased too, and its like, yuh, thats part of the game. Thats part of F1. All of this shit is bananas AND F1.

Herberts lastest compliment to Max which came attached to a bunch of other damage control was 'worldly'. He has called Max clever, smart, rebellious, exciting, dangerous, intimidating, selfish, and Max. Just Max. 'Max is Max', somebody else said, and that was enough because he understood. That person was Max's teammate once. Maybe Herbert also understands, because of his former teammate. His teammate's name is enough too.

The whole community service thing, this latest penalty, the frankly shocking things he said about how he saw Austria. Maybe this was some form of retaliation for COTA, maybe it was just normal Herbert escalation. He wants Max tamed. He wants Max gentled, mostly because he knows, again, he has said this, multiple times, that its futile to try. U want a herbert/max f1c I'll give u that. A 60 year old mans constant and relentless attempts to stifle a 20 something year old he cant control because it means he gets to c him remain defiant. Herb gets to c him walk into the one room that he controls, and remain uncontrollable. Maybe he will refuse to answer questions and hold his own presser outside, but thats part of his character and the character is something we dont want to lose. Not again.

[corzydoie]

Read Between The Lines

Author's Note: So THIS is why it's taken me so long to finally post (this and school cause MIDTERMS). This plus some (A LOT) more was originally supposed to be Part 2 of Sketches of Goodbye and was going to be published under a different title. HOWEVER, it was taking me too long to get to the meat of what I wanted Part 2 to be about so I just decided to post a chunk of it as Part 1.5. If you haven't read Sketches of Goodbye, you shouldn't read this yet cause it will make ZERO sense. NOT PROOFREAD!!

Summary: You finally got a much-needed break from your work, and decided to plan a getaway trip with friends you haven't seen in forever!

Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warning(s): Cursing, Mentions of Killing Attempt, Choking

It’s been over a year since you left Lando in Monaco to pursue your dreams in Japan. Although you texted each other congratulations on achievements and special occasions, calls and visits were cards that were never played. 

Lando would be lying if he said he didn’t stalk your personal and professional social media accounts. There were multiple times one of the other drivers caught him watching your story or commenting pleasantries on your latest post. Some thought he was delusional and others knew how hard it was for him to let you go considering the length of your relationship.

December 14th, exactly a week after the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, you had just finished preparing for the company’s Valentine’s Day collection. You took photos of your discarded designs and messy workspace before leaving for your holiday break.

Lando’s phone dinged, signaling he received a notification. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he read his screen. His colleagues paid him no mind and continued to eat the postseason dinner they gathered for.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Lando exclaimed as he jolted out of his seat. All of the drivers glared at Lando due to his sudden outburst.

“Mate what is so catastrophic you almost upend the whole table?” George questioned his friend. Lando frantically showed his dinner mates his phone screen, most struggling to see the image clearly, which led them to check their phones to see what the McLaren driver was upset over. They opened Instagram and were met with your most recent post. At first, they couldn’t understand how a simple wintertime photo dump would upset Lando.

Until they saw the third photo.

yns.sketchbook

Liked by carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 62485 others

yns.sketchbook fun in the snow 🌨️

lilymhe so cute can’t wait to see you again

yns.sketchbook omg I miss you too I’ll come visit soon

carmenmmundt we should all hangout when you come yn!!

yns.sketchbook say less already booking my flight

username her instagram is so aesthetic 

username literally my role model

username ok but who is that

username idk but maybe we shouldn’t ask??

username yeah shes literally hiding their face on purpose

username IS THAT A MAN???? THAT’S A MAN’S HAND???

username the internets favorite designer

username honestly at this point she should be the model

username deadass shes so gorg

username her face isnt even in this post hello??

username somebodys new here...

username does she have a new boyfriend??

username OMG I HOPE NOT I WAS ROOTING FOR HER AND LANDO TO GET BACK TOGETHER

username they broke up for a reason maybe it should stay that way

“There’s no way you’re upset 'cause she moved on,” Lewis laughed.

“Lando it’s been over a year, she was bound to find someone else.” Max tried rationalizing the situation to his friend, but Lando’s thoughts clouded his judgment. He felt betrayed. In his head, you were meant for each other. He was willing to wait forever to be with you again. He only wanted you.

“You’re getting mad because she posted someone that might not even be a man. But do you think she would be upset over the fact you slept with girls left and right after she left?” Pierre’s question prompted an uproar of oohs, laughs, and dropped jaws around the table.

“But that’s different.” Lando attempted a defense as he slumped back into his chair.

“HOW?” everyone screamed at him.

“CAUSE THEY MEANT NOTHING TO ME. Those were just hookups, she has a BOYFRIEND!” Lando explained.

“Y’know,” Franco interjected, “if I broke up with a girl that beautiful, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself either.” The group went silent as they looked quizzically at the Argentine who continued eating his dish.

Lando got up and started walking away from the group of drivers. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“I wonder if she knows he stalks her,” Pierre hollered after him.

“Oh, she knows.” Yuki’s statement causes Lando to freeze, slowly turning his body back towards everybody. She knew? Yuki knew she knew? How did he know? How did she know? Sensing the unwavering glares from his taller counterparts and what they wanted from him, Yuki answered their unspoken question. “I told her.” Yuki’s face remained unbothered until Lando came hurling at him, placing his hands around his neck as he vehemently shook the poor little guy, purely out of frustration. The other 18 drivers immediately got out of their seats, some yelling at Lando to get off Yuki, a few trying to pry Lando off manually, and others leaving the room to get help, even though the overlapped yelling was warning enough to anybody else in the building.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU TOLD HER?”

“WHAT THE FUCK BRO?”

“YOU TALK TO HER? DID YOU KNOW SHE GOT A BOYFRIEND?”

“LANDO GET OFF YUKI.”

“YOU’RE FUCKING INSANE.”

“YOU’RE GONNA KILL HIM LANDO.”

“WHY DOES SHE TALK TO YOU AND NOT ME?”

“HOW WOULD I KNOW?”

“LANDO THIS IS IRRATIONAL.” Eventually, Max could yank Lando’s hands off Yuki, sending the Japanese man into a coughing fit.

“You need to leave. Right now,” Max commanded his friend. And without putting up (another) fight, Lando walked out of the restaurant. Everybody slowly turned their attention to George, the dinner planner and GPDA director, wondering if this would be an incident he had to report.

“He’s lucky it’s the off season,” he sighed, easing any remaining tension at the table.

It was the middle of the night in Tokyo, and a storm was knocking against the glass of your windows. As much as you attempted to sleep, the constant pattering of harsh winds and repetitive dings from your phone overwhelmed your tired senses. Three blankets, hot chocolate, and another person to keep you warm were not enough to lull you into a fanciful dreamscape. You had barely arrived at your front doorstep when the interesting comments on your post began rolling in. It was always the same, so you became unfazed by their existence. You remembered commenting jokingly with your old friends Carmen and Lily. You truly did miss them, it just never seemed there was time for you guys to see each other due to vastly different careers. You were reminiscing about the winter trips the three of you would take to New York, with your boyfriends tagging along. As a wonderful plan began forming in your mind, you reached over to grab your phone off the bedside table, sending a quick text before finally falling asleep.

The next couple of weeks were spent preparing for your New York trip. It was a spur-of-the-moment plan, but Carmen and Lily were on board immediately since the last time you saw each other was during the Suzuka race week. It would almost be like old times, except you would be bringing someone else as your plus one. But you knew that Alex and George knew how to be cordial, even if it was their friend getting the short end of the stick.

Your phone rang as you were packing the last of your bags. You glanced to see the name YUKI POOKIE <3 plastered across the screen, deciding to answer immediately. It mostly contained catching up on your journeys and laughing about Lando’s murder attempt on his small companion, with a small reminder that he was supposed to pick you up in a couple of hours and drop you off at the airport.

You swiftly found your luggage at the claim and pulled your phone out of your jacket to call Lily. She arrived in New York with Alex a week before you, so now you just waited for Carmen and George, who would arrive in a couple of days. You stood waiting at the pickup zone for your friend as your phone kept ringing, signaling she hadn’t answered yet. As you were about to give up trying to reach your friend, you heard her voice from the other side.

“Hey y/n, sorry I took so long to answer I was in the bathroom. Alex is gonna pick you up, I have a few errands I need to run before the end of the day. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no worries, that’s fine. Do you know what car he’s driving so I know what to look for.”

“It should be a black Land Rover, the windshield isn’t tinted though so you should be able to spot him when he drives up.”

“Thanks so much, Lily, I owe you guys one!” You waited a few minutes before you saw Lily’s boyfriend, Alex, slow down and pull up in front of you. He rolled down the passenger side window, asking “Uber for y/n y/l/n plus one?” You were a little scared about George and Alex meeting your new boyfriend through this trip since it was usually Lando at your side, but Alex seemed cordial at the first impression. He got out of the driver's seat and helped the both of you load your luggage into the trunk, sticking his hand out towards your boyfriend for a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Alex.” Even though you were already on your way to the passenger side door, you slowed your pace to hear their curt interaction.

“Eiji, likewise!” ‘Likewise? Why are they being so formal?’ you thought as you took your seat. The two men walked along opposite sides of the car, one in the backseat and the other in the driver’s seat. Alex checked all the mirrors to make sure they were to his liking before he pulled away from the airport and drove to your destination.

When you arrived in front of your hotel, you made sure to thank Alex and asked him to say hi to Lily for you. The check-in process was smooth and you found your room with ease. As soon as you opened the door, you dragged yourself to the bed and plopped down with a thud and a groan.

“I don’t know why you were so nervous for me to meet them, Alex seems like a nice guy,” your boyfriend said as he closed the door you left wide open.

“He is a nice guy, I was just scared that it was gonna be awkward.” You could hear his footsteps faintly approaching you which were followed by the bed sinking next to you, indicating you joined you on the comfortable queen. You could hear him talking, but the jetlag hit you in a single strong wave, and his voice started to fade as you could finally get a reasonable amount of sleep for the first time in months. Eiji noticed you weren’t replying to any of his points of conversation and looked over to see you asleep, remembering the stressful weeks and sleepless nights leading up to this trip. He knew this was your only break before summer and decided to take a nap right beside you.

Written By: CorzyDoie <3

[sharkface]

[hedalextra]

i did an art

[moeblob]

Happy Birthday to Ferdinand von Aegir!

I actually made 33 emotes, affectionately known as Aegirglyphics to some, for my own personal use on discord. However, I figure why not share some of them! They're free to use for discord servers/icons/pfps or whatever. However, my only request is Do NOT use them as subscriber emotes on Twitch. You can make them free follower emotes but you are not to make them locked behind a paywall.

[bumblingbabooshka]

I hate when Chakotay is watered down to be Janeway's yes man because their disagreements are actually very interesting. [A lot of rambling analysis of this debate in particular below]

Chakotay in Parallax is very interesting in that he has to navigate a lot of different dynamics. Balance a lot of plates while being watched keenly by everyone around him. Immediately preceding this scene we see him ask B'Elanna for her opinion on the bridge - both as a chance to show her knowledge in his bid to make her chief engineer (because she wouldn't get a chance to otherwise as Janeway has clearly indicated that at this point she views B'Elanna as a troublemaker who won't be considered for the position) and because he just thinks she's a better engineer than Carey and wants the best possible chance of them succeeding. Janeway sees this as unacceptable. Carey is the chief engineer and so he should be called and Chakotay NOT asking for his opinion is an insult to Carey, Janeway, and might make the crew doubt Chakotay (and by extension the Maquis') loyalty to the Starfleet crew.

At this point it seems that to Janeway integration ["They're not your people"] means the path of least resistance, specifically tailored towards the Starfleet crew. She wants Chakotay by her side to keep the Maquis crew calm but also seems unwilling to consider them for important positions aboard the ship. Though she says that the Maquis are not Chakotay's people, not his crew, she certainly doesn't seem to consider them hers [Compare this to later instances where she stresses 'our' crew, here she simply says they aren't Chakotay's: Whose crew are they? Are they crew at all?]. This less leaves the impression of "We need to be a cohesive team" and more "You're not in charge here." She essentially accuses Chakotay of playing favorites. In her mind Chakotay's actions are not conducive to integrating the crews which would (again, in her mind) mean the Maquis being docile and accepting, obedient and content - not making trouble for the Starfleet crew. Chakotay counters Janeway's accusation with one of his own: That he IS trying to integrate them into the crew but her not allowing the Maquis any opportunity to prove themselves or succeed, not showing any trust in any of them (except, implicitly at this point, him) is making things difficult. At this point the Maquis crew are ready to mutiny on his word at any time. He knows this for a fact. Aside from that looming threat (the threat being that tensions are high and if nothing changes and they remain high there might be a mutiny even without his word) - Chakotay knows these people and trusts them. Though Starfleet and Janeway think of the Maquis as a violent bunch of criminal terrorists, Chakotay and a good number of the Maquis joined because they believed in the cause they were fighting for. These are people Chakotay knows WILL fight fiercely for what they believe in and conversely, AGAINST what they perceive as injustice. Even if they're not in the majority - they're used to picking fights which seem impossible to win. At this point Janeway admits that she ISN'T making it easy for Chakotay to integrate the Maquis - specifically talking about practical concerns; how she doesn't feel she can let Maquis crew have roles of importance on the ship because they lack the ability to hold them. "They don't have the discipline, they don't have the training," - asserting that they just aren't prepared for any such roles and it doesn't have to do with them being Maquis specifically. Ostensibly, she's treating them as she might treat anyone unqualified for the job.

Chakotay maintains that some of them, like B'Elanna, have the ability to be trained - challenging her point by saying that IF they're trained there's no reason for any Maquis member NOT to be given a more prominent role on the ship. He isn't suggesting they just unqualified people important jobs. If the problem is that they aren't trained, let's train them. These people have the ability to succeed if you give them the tools they need and a fair chance, he insists. Janeway then switches gears and her argument becomes not "The Maquis are untrained so they can't be given those jobs" but "The Maquis crew are unworthy of those jobs when compared to Starfleet personnel" saying that it'll cause insult and upset among the Starfleet crew if any member of the Maquis were to be promoted above them. Again, her idea of integration is based more on Maquis subservience to the Starfleet crew than it is the two crews working together. (Not that I believe she looks at it that way, it's just where her 'path of least resistance' leads) - though she accuses Chakotay of being too focused on "his" crew, she is admitting here that she believes her real crew are the Starfleet officers aboard, not the Maquis. She also admits here that the system she wishes to maintain (and is asking Chakotay to enforce) is one where there will ostensibly never be any chance of a Maquis crew member being promoted because no Maquis crew member will ever be more qualified, more worthy, than a member of Starfleet. We can see how it'd be difficult for Chakotay to convince his crew to remain calm under these circumstances. There's also Tuvok's behavior toward him at the beginning of the episode where the Vulcan nearly goes over Chakotay's head and when he doesn't do so (as Chakotay reminds him that HE'S the superior officer, the First Officer in fact,) Tuvok acts as if him backing down (partially) and conceding (partially) to Chakotay's authority is a favor to Chakotay.

Tuvok in this conversation is downright insubordinate to Chakotay. Despite Chakotay being the first officer, he doesn't take what he says seriously, argues that his own opinion on what should be done should be followed rather than Chakotay's, lectures the first officer about his conduct, and then almost seems to threaten him with a report. In Starfleet's rigidly hierarchical rules, acting like this to a superior officer (ESPECIALLY the first officer) wouldn't be tolerated and Tuvok knows this perfectly well. He isn't a rebellious character and clearly in other episodes adheres to these Starfleet hierarchies and codes of conduct very strictly. He values them highly. But Chakotay, a Maquis, shouldn't be First Officer. Why should he be given respect for a title he didn't earn? [Affirming Janeway's argument about how Starfleet officers won't be eager to follow a Maquis senior officer] Even though Chakotay tells Tuvok off for it ["I don't have to explain myself to you"] he doesn't threaten to put Tuvok on report or explicitly mention his insubordination. It's unclear if this is Chakotay's personality or if he just doesn't feel he CAN do that. Tuvok is one of the three most senior officers aboard and very close to Janeway. Chakotay has to think of the optics of any situation at all times - we see seconds after this conversation that rumors have already started swirling around B'Elanna being relegated to quarters that've fanned the flames of mutiny. Though we know Tuvok has personal reasons for behaving the way he does toward Chakotay (which he later admits), I really don't think it'd be out of the ordinary for this to be how most Starfleet personnel would treat the Maquis if they weren't outright hostile: Like they're only pretend crewmen. To a lesser extent we even see this with Janeway: In the following staff meeting, she clearly doesn't consider B'Elanna a viable option when Chakotay brings her up and almost ignores the suggestion entirely.

It also, again, leaves Chakotay in an impossible position. If he doesn't protect and fight for the Maquis crew, they won't ever be considered a true part of the crew and dissatisfaction will likely spread among them. Dissatisfaction which the Starfleet crew will then use to further label the Maquis as insubordinate, uncontrollable, unfit. Not to mention that if he doesn't advocate for them, he might lose their trust. However, if he DOES try to help the Maquis crew advance the Starfleet crew will view this as 'favoritism' and will further distrust him, won't respect the people he puts forth as worthy. Janeway seems to be intent on not advocating for any of the Maquis crew and also seems unwilling to ask that the Starfleet crew grant leniency. She implies that the Maquis crew need to learn to get in line and keep quiet and it seems almost like [we must remember the optics] she has Chakotay as the only Maquis in a position of power to facilitate that. Chakotay recognizes and pushes against that, saying that he won't just be her token Maquis - there only so she can point to him and say "See? We don't discriminate against the Maquis here." effectively a tool used to shut down any arguments of unfair treatment and a tool to quell the Maquis if any talk of mutiny DOES arise. In this model, Janeway can just tell Chakotay to calm them down and they'll listen because they trust him. She also doesn't have to really listen to anything he says: A token First Officer has no authority; his words don't hold weight. [Chakotay isn't Maquis anymore, they aren't his crew anymore - ok. What is he then? What are they? Nothing, without respect.] This plan seems untenable, as much as Janeway frames it as sensible: "I can't make it easy, Commander. Surely you can understand that," and alternatives as impossible "How am I supposed to ask them to accept a Maquis as their superior officer just because circumstances have forced us together?" - in the long run, how would this be sustainable? In any power structure, you cannot expect a group of people you're unwilling to grant trust or agency to obediently follow you forever. This proposed form of 'integration' in which the Maquis are kept on the bottom rung and told intermittently to stay there quietly by the only one of them granted permission to stand at the top would never be sustainable - especially with a group like the Maquis who again, were founded on the belief that its members should fight against inequity and are already on the verge of mutiny.

I specifically find the statement "How am I supposed to ask them to accept a Maquis as their superior officer just because circumstances have forced us together?" to be interesting because personally I'd say that being forced together for the rest of almost everyone's natural life is a pretty good reason to ask people to adapt and Janeway does understand this but only applies it to the Maquis - the Maquis are the ones who have to adapt, not Starfleet. The only thing the Starfleet crew have to do is tolerate their presence on board.

At this point Janeway again claims that if Chakotay can show her a 'qualified' Maquis candidate she'll consider them. I believe this is true but we already know that Janeway's standards for qualification will likely not fit the vast majority of the Maquis and Chakotay ignores the claim in favor of putting forth B'Elanna again, firmly. Janeway predictably dismisses her as unqualified and Chakotay disagrees, arguing that he knows her. He's worked with her. He KNOWS that B'Elanna can excel at the job even if she doesn't meet Starfleet/Janeway's qualifications. He doesn't value those qualifications over what he's observed about her - just as he didn't value Carey's title over what he knew about the gap between his and B'Elanna's abilities. Then, Chakotay switches gears. He admits that Janeway's right - he does view the Maquis as his crew but that's because Janeway (almost self admittingly) doesn't and if he doesn't, who will they have? [What kind of captain, kind of man, would he be?] "You're going to have to give them more authority if you want their loyalty." "Theirs or yours, Commander?" Janeway frames Chakotay's words pointing out the flaws in this plan which I outlined earlier, as almost a threat (if she doesn't have Chakotay's loyalty it'll most definitely mean mutiny). Chakotay asserts that it wasn't a threat, he's only trying to help by telling her how the Maquis crew will react to what she's telling him. "I'm sorry you can't see that" - not an apology for what he said but that she isn't willing to budge, not willing to listen to him and acknowledge that she might be as biased towards her crew as he is towards his. Chakotay is trying his best to acclimate his crew but if Janeway isn't willing to do the same, to talk to her people as he's talking to his, then this will not end well and that isn't a threat. It's just the reality of the situation. He then asks permission to leave, showing he is willing to observe Starfleet protocol (just as when he asked permission to speak freely), and Janeway lets him go, exhaling at the intensity of their debate when alone in her ready room.

[olasketches]

me and like two other sukuna stans making posts about how miserable he is

[sainz100]

quick Carlos & Charles collage ❤️❤️

| 📸 pumamotorsport + Esquire via sabrinabearzotti

[salad-storm]

sakusa and atsumu are both horribly sore losers but for different reasons. sakusa is because he's the youngest sibling and his older siblings have a massive age gap to him - he never learned how to lose. But atsumu has a twin brother who he fights with for everything. He Needs to win.

I think what results from this is no one wanting to play boardgames with the two of them anymore. They try once only to realise, again, that skts are the worst and never play anything with them again

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i think its weird that i have to make this disclaimer but the internet is crazy so wtvr,, anyway,,

if i say i dont like something, that doesnt mean "that thing is bad and nobody should post it.."

i swear literally every time i even mention that i dislike something, people will go "wow does that mean u fucking hate me cuz i post that thing? ur a fucking stupid bitch and all ur opinions r wrong" LIKE ?? er.. no. just because i say i dont like certain characterizations of certain characters (the saiki k fandom is CRAZY about this cuz i can state an opinion on literally any character and a group of people will still go 'well only we're allowed to post our opinions about them because we're always right!1!1!'), or certain ship tropes (mentioned my hatred of toxic yaoi maybe once or twice on here months ago and people STILL get mad at me as if i said toxic yaoi lovers r evil or something), or certain ships, or WHATEVER, does not mean that i HATE the people who are posting them or that i think they shouldnt post them at all, NO, im just posting about my personal tastes on my personal blog and it would be extremely weird and hypocritical if i decided that i was the ONLY person that was allowed to do that,,

i think the only reason people assume that is because there are a lot of other people on here who ARE like that, and a lot of people toe the line between posting that they dont like something and posting that they think everyone who likes that thing is stupid, annoying, and wrong,, so i guess all i can say is, sorry for whatever made you make these assumptions but they arent true about me so plz leave me alone ʘ‿ʘ ur doing the same thing to me that ur accusing me of but i didnt do it in the first place so ur just actively being a dick for no reason

[wainwrightjakobshammerlock]

i have nothing of substance to say in this caption

epicer version under cut

[rimouskis]

can I be so open and vulnerable with you guys. the card I was given from people at my old office was sincerely so nice and really validating but also I feel like the main impression I left other people with was "she's really nice" WHICH IS GOOD, I DO WANT TO BE KNOWN AS NICE but also part of me is like... should I maybe strive for "innovative" or "creative" or "a go-getter" because being The Nice One just feels a little mealy-mouthed of me y'know?

[unstablemotions]

people: you need to get an official diagnosis from a psychiatrist!!!

psychiatrists: *misdiagnosed me with different things like +4 times and filled me with unnecessary medicine*

[lifesver]

girl maybe i just dont like the way lelana shippers sometimes talk about them

[candyriku]

I unfortunately find myself unable to work on my current Soriku fic today due to my mental state, but I was able to make a bit of a teaser for the next big Soriku fanfiction that will be coming sometime after JTSYS is finished.

You can read it under the cut, but TW for blood, death, and uh, general misery. This has been cathartic for me to write but the whole idea of this fic is that things are impossibly doomed, so be warned - this is not the happy fun zone.

Blood. There was so much blood.

He had smelled it before even seeing it, the metallic scent thick in his nose before he had even rounded the corner. He had tried to convince himself that it was his own bleeding wound that he smelled, or maybe the blood of something else, someone else, but in his heart, he knew the truth. He picked up his pace, sprinting at top speed now, his sneakers splashing through shallow puddles on the wet pavement. 

When his eyes finally came to rest on the crumpled form at the end of the alley, the breath was knocked out of his chest as though someone had taken a baseball bat to his sternum. He knew, of course he knew, but he had hoped-

No. It didn’t matter what he hoped for. Hopes and wishes weren’t for people that walked his path. He had been denied the right to hope for anything ages ago. When he had signed that contract, signed away his soul, he forfeited all the cushy pleasures of a normal life. He had given up his chance of knowing peace.

But it had been worth it. If it was for Sora, anything was worth it.

Standing over Sora’s blood-soaked body, Riku tried to remind himself of that truth, the one thing that he had tethered his heart to all this time. It was worth it. Even if the chance of Sora making it out alive were next to none, there was still a chance. He could still fight.

One of these loops, Riku would get it right. He would figure out how to keep Sora safe, how to protect him from this accursed dimension where everything was designed to end his life. They would break out and live a normal life together, just the way they had always planned. 

There was a happy future waiting somewhere for the two of them. There had to be. Riku had gambled everything on it.

He crouched down, his shaking fingers gently brushing Sora’s tear-stained cheek. He could hardly stand to look at his face, but the sight of his broken, bleeding body was no better. The wounds were precise and lethal, and Riku was far too late.

No matter how many dozens of times he had watched Sora die, it never got easier. It never stopped feeling like his chest was a black hole caving in on itself, his heart squeezed until it was nothing more than dust. 

He couldn’t look. He couldn't look away.

Riku kneeled and placed both of Sora’s hands over his heart. He was about to speak and begin the incantation that would throw them both back to the starting point again, but Sora suddenly stirred, weakly reaching one hand up towards Riku’s face.

“Riku…” his voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“I’m here,” Riku said, the words catching in his throat. “Don’t speak. You can rest now. It’s okay.”

He hated to say it. He wanted to plead with Sora, wanted to beg him to stay. But if Riku had learned anything throughout the loops, it was that nothing came of begging. There was no one to answer his prayers; benevolent forces did not dwell here. At best, all it would accomplish would be making Sora sad in his final moments. At worst, future loops would be impacted by Riku’s words to Sora, twisting the knife further. He had seen it enough to know what to avoid now.

“I don’t want…” There was a weighted pause. “...Don’t want to leave you.” The pool of blood continued to grow. Riku knew - though he wished that he didn’t - that Sora wouldn’t be able to maintain consciousness for much longer at this rate. He could hardly believe Sora was awake even now. 

“We’ll meet again.” he assured Sora softly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Don’t worry. It'll be okay.” 

“You…” This pause was longer, much longer, and Riku was all but sure that Sora would not speak again. Finally, with a wet cough, Sora continued. “You promise?”

“I promise.” Riku lied. He leaned forward and kissed Sora’s forehead, his lips lingering there for several long moments as he took steadying breaths. 

“Mm… ‘kay.” Sora managed. “Love you… so much.” 

“I love you too.” Riku said, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw popped. He wanted to scream. After taking a moment to compose himself, he sat up and offered his best imitation of a smile to Sora. Better for him to see that than to see how broken Riku really was. 

The all-too-familiar faraway look settled on Sora’s face as the last of his breath left his body. Riku collapsed over him, the tears finally coming, the weight hitting him all at once with the force of a tidal wave. Even knowing that he would see Sora alive and well again in mere moments did nothing to comfort him. 

It didn't matter how many times Riku had seen it. It never got any easier to watch Sora die.