#it wasn't meant to get longer than that!!!

[alianoralacanta]

I want to believe this. I really do.

Williams' statement is standard boilerplate for this situation, entirely compatible with Williams having mentioned the concussion. Perhaps I no longer like the ambiguity constructed by what is not being said, in the context of other developments in F1.

However… nothing in the link says a concussion or any other form of head injury was mentioned or tested for. MotoGP has started reaping the consequences of obscuring a drop in testing quantity and quality in concussions, and I don't want F1 to follow suit, because having a good solid testing protocol sometimes isn't the complete solution one would hope it to be.

I'm going to take the opportunity to talk about F1's concussion protocol. This is because it is the first sport to have a concussion protocol at all, and as such it has some differences in how it operates compared to other sports' protocols.

F1 Concussion Protocol (historically)

Sid Watkins devised F1's first concussion protocol in 1998, with help from Gary Hartstein (his deputy) and Indycar doctors Steve Olvey and Terry Trammell. This used a combination of three tools: 1) Baseline testing. At the start of the season, Sid Watkins got every driver to complete a series of tests. Jacques Villenueve, anticipating a problem that rugby has notably had in subsequent years, suggested he could deliberately underperform at baseline to maximise his chances of returning to play in the event of a crash. Gary told him that if he caught anyone underperforming, he'd ban them from competing for a month because he would assume they already had a concussion. In the end, the competitive nature of drivers meant that they performed their best - drivers wanted to be able to tell others in their gossiping sessions that they'd beaten (or held their own) against each other.

2) Computerised assessment of responses. Using a computer program, Sid and Gary were able to consistently check drivers at the medical centre after large accidents. Eventually, the threshold was set at 15 G because in F1, accidents below this rarely result in anything worse than minor soreness and bruising. The computer remembered previous responses and used them to help make an objective diagnosis. For many years, ImPACT was used, though I do not know whether this or a different program is now used. Originally, this took 20 minutes to run, including some gaps in between tests (while the computer worked out the results) that made space for tool #3:

3) Asking questions. There's a certain subjective evaluation to assessing a concussion, although there are systems that allow a lot of them to be identified objectively. Concussion often affects how someone arrives at an answer, which in 1998 wasn't something a computer could assess very well. However, if a driver said something completely out-of-character or was obviously a guess at the correct answer instead of simply recalling it from memory, a human doctor can make the correct diagnosis that way. The F1 protocol, unlike many other sports, specifically allowed return to competition at the same event if it was possible to medically demonstrate that recovery was likely to have occurred. However, it had and as far as I know still has a high threshold for that permission.

Possible Issues With the Procedure

The protocol is not foolproof, and it does rely on drivers making sure they self-monitor for aggravation of symptoms when next in the car. Nobody has yet devised a concussion protocol that 100% reliably assesses someone for driving at over 100 mph while they are sitting in a medical centre, nor is this likely to occur.

It also depends on the FIA being given accurate information. This doesn't always happen. Max Verstappen and Red Bull hid the fact that Max had a concussion during parts of the second half of 2021 successfully, until after the FIA could penalise either for doing so. Earlier than that, in Sochi 2016, Carlos Sainz somehow managed to get through one of these evaluations without mentioning to the medical team he had concussion (and without anyone on his team doing so either). Hopefully this makes my lingering concern about this matter make more sense. (As well as why I think the FIA did the best they could with the Colapinto situation, regardless of what information it did or did not have).

i dont want to defend williams but like some of you need to start fact checking. franco was medically cleared to race. williams didn't make him race while medically unfit. chill out

[lara4eclipze]

›› what are we?

sypnosis -» when the line is drawn it isn't supposed to be crossed yet here they were taking the next step out of that line

beware -» fluff , smut , mutual liking , pining , teasing , orgasm denial , manon top , lara bottom , they kinda switch

talks -»loved this request so I do hope it does good but based on Tumblr I think this wouldn't hit that many notes lolz, wrote this half asleep so..

taglist (open): @nyssalvr @ohmyhaely @vrtualstar @jellaaa @c-yerim

it started innocently with hangouts here and there and bonding — far from the picture that the internet painted lara and manon were close and they never hated eachother

and as much as they tried to prove them wrong — by being more close with the cameras and off the cameras , it never worked just one wrong look and suddenly they both hate each other

after the anniversary live manon decided to give the members gifts , like necklaces and bracelets — for lara though she got her a ring , not that expensive but it meant so much more

"and for you" manon smiles , as lara opens the box , the ring was stunning — it wasn't super chunky and lara could wear it along with her regular accessories

"oh my god thank you!" lara exclaims running up to manon's arms , manon warmly hugs her as she mutters so many thank you's under her breath

"you're very welcome" manon replies , her heart raced at the sudden or not so sudden clinginess by the younger—it didn't help that lara was also just a few inches away from touching manon's lips

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

touches that lingered longer than it should've , compliments that would make both blush and make their heart race

was it really just fan service? — or something way too deep that both of them resists exploring , it wasn't safe

curiosity killed the cat , yet would it really hurt if she just wanted to try it?

"you wanna what!?" megan exclaims almost spitting out her drink

"is it that bad? — I mean if we're gonna be idols our whole life I just wanna try" lara says second guessing herself ,"yeah cause you can just try having sex with girls!" megan flailing her hands around in disbelief

"plus who are you going to do that with — and no , not me lara" the younger says , "yeah I wasn't planning to loser — how about manon" lara replies , was manon actually the only choice? no , but she wanted a reason to mention manon

"just admit you like her , everyone knows at this point — gay ass" megan teases , "I do not! , we just - well you know uhm close" lara struggles to label whatever manon and her were

"yeah right, but whatever you're on right now I suggest you stop it" megan mutters before leaving the room , "hear me out!" lara says ,"nuh uh" the younger replied closing the door

lara sighs defeated , did she really wanna try having sex with girls? or did she want to try it with manon — lara believes that everything happens for a reason and if it does align with what she wants why question it?

"it's now or never I guess"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

manon has been busy for the past couple of days , especially with her just getting out of a fever — meaning today is also the first day the girls can finally bond with her

the door thuds a bit as lara knocks , "come in" manon replies , the younger enters and quickly her face turns into a smile finally seeing manon healthy

"I miss you so much" lara pouts as she sits on the older lap and hugs her , "aww at least I'm back now , anyways is there anything you want hun?" manon asks , well she's fucked lara's heartbeat got faster and her hands were suddenly so sweaty

"well it's something you can say no to obviously I'm not gonna force you — and it's like not even that mature of me to say this" the younger rambles manon swiftly cuts her off by using her finger to shush her

"just tell me , I'm always up for what you want" manon says getting a tad bit concerned why the younger seemed so worried

lara sighs , her hands were now on top of manon's "can you have uhm sex... with me?" she cringes at herself almost wanting to die the minute it came out of her mouth

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"is this okay?" manon asks as her finger circle the youngers clit — lara has never looked more pretty in her opinion, face flushed, eyes screwed shut , lips quivering while hearing all her cute moans

"y-yes" the younger whines her hands glued to her chest as she tries her best not to cum right away , all the sensation was too much for her

"so beautiful" manon says as she fastens her pace, looking down at the mess lara has made on her fingers , " 'm so close!" lara screams as she clenches tighter on the olders digits

manon suddenly slowed down her pace earning her an unsatisfied groan from lara — she chuckles at how the younger seemingly got annoyed

"manon — please I'll do anything" lara says, her eyes starting to gloss over with tears at the loss of stimulation

"aww baby you can do this — good girls can handle this right?" manon condescendingly says to which the younger just nods to

"good now again" manon says her finger going fast yet again as she watches lara's face scrunch up in pure bliss , she leans down taking the youngers pebbled bud into her mouth savoring the moans that came out of lara's mouth

she sucked onto the brown skin of the younger knowing it will turn purple in a few more hours , the sickening sweet high pitched whines lara let out whenever manon got faster made the older go crazy

without any warning lara convulsed around manon's fingers as she had a death like grip on the olders shoulder leaving crescent like shapes using her nails

manon kisses her swallowing her moans , her fingers going slower to prolong the orgasmic bliss

finally laying down beside the younger lara snuggles up to manon's neck breathing heavily as she gets more and more drowsy

"you alright?" manon asks lara replies humming

manon's phone dings with a notification , a text from her roommate daniela

latina mami: are you guys done , I wanna get my charger

inthemiddle: were we that loud?

latina mami: megan had to blast red velvet so that yoonchae wouldn't hear you guys 😐

manon sighs looking down at lara who looked happy whilst being asleep, yeah it was all worth it or maybe not cause surely she'll get a scolding from sophia

[foundfamily-connoisseur]

Uhhhh lower effort but it wasn't leaving me alone: My take on Giga Mac 😋

Basic info:

Mac doesn't remember or know how he obtained this form. At best he remembers the feeling of restrains on his wrists and ankles and the stabbing of needles, but nothing else.

It usually occurs when in a fight when he's badly injured and his brain enters "fight or flight" mode: it chooses fight. The biggest downside to this is that this is no longer a fight for the title, but for survival(ie to the death).

While there's the bonus of added strength and stamina, it comes at the expense of his mental: basically he becomes more of a wild animal. He can understand basic human speech but he can't talk, resorting to vocalizations(no sign language either so good luck with that)

Retractable claws: he has em. Id probably make him more fucked up tbh but I wanted to keep it low-key since he still gotta throw hands and claws don't rlly let you curl your hands into fists.

Transformation: painful, he can feel his bones snapping as everything shifts into place. It takes about a minute, maybe less. The longer he stays like that, the more beast like he gets, and the harder it is to get him back to normal.

The 1st Hour: absolutely vital, transformed and post transformation. Mac isn't meant to stay transformed for long, so try to get him back to normal within the first hour, or complications will arise (heightened aggression, more animal characteristics, loss of sanity, etc). The longest he's stayed transformed was 2 hours, and it's something no one wants to see again.

Post transformation: the most crucial. He's at his most sensitive and therefore most volatile. Small things can set him off, bringing you back to square one with Gigamac. Avoid anything that would annoy him normally, as even the sound of a radiator can get him back to the snarling beast.

He also retains some traits from transforming. He already has slightly longer canines than average, but freshly transformed all his teeth are sharp. He doesn't have traditional claws, but his nails are still sharp and pointed. The only thing that sticks is the hair, which he usually just cuts off and calls it a day.

Getting him back: there's two main ways to do it: exhaustion and pacifying. Exhaustion is the easiest method, as it usually just ends up with the bigger, tougher boxers to either just Duke it out literally or hold him down as he thrashes till he tires himself out. Pacifying usually just resorts to being like 🍔🥺 "quieres?". Much harder to do but it's what the boxers and Doc try to do first, cuz naturally no one is comfortable pinning down the 17 year old as he screams like a banshee.

Recovery: as stated, the transformation takes an absurd toll on Mac, knocking him out for the day. While he's never been out for longer than 3 days(which was already scary enough that Doc Louis right about had a heart attack), it's still something to worry about. When hes out, he's out and essentially nothing will wake him up.

And yeah I just think Giga Mac as a concept is pretty neat

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

Leathery Love

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 here's part one, hope you enjoy

and @lilacwriter07 enjoy your early Christmas present

Lilith: I'm leaving you Lucifer

After twenty years of marriage never did Lucifer ever imagine those words ever being uttered from the love of his life's lips. Especially not on the day of their wedding anniversary.

Lucifer: What?

Was all he could say to Lilith who looked both tired and disappointed with him as she sat at the table with her arms crossed. They were supposed to be eating a meal together, drinking some wine, then watching a movie. They were at home at Lilith's insistence from a few days ago. She said she wanted to spend the evening with just him. No one else was to see what she wished to do.

He just thought she wanted to try something new. Not break his fucking heart in private so no one can see him cry.

Lilith: I said I'm leaving you Lucifer, I want a divorce.

Lucifer felt his heart start to pace as his breathing slowly turned erratic.

Lucifer: But, but, but I, I don't...why Lily

Lilith bristled at the nickname for a moment before answering.

Lilith: Because I no longer wish to be in a relationship where I fell out of love with you years ago. I swore that when Charlie moved out, I would finally bring myself to get out of a place that has only brought me misery.

With that she stood up and headed upstairs. Lucifer was still reeling when about five minutes later she was coming back down with two bags full of her stuff. Her stuff. Lucifer's eyes widened at the sight of them. It meant,

Lucifer: Lilith please, I beg of you don't go! Please! Lilith

He ran to her when she got to the doors. She stared him down as he stood in front of her exit; however, Lucifer could only stare up with tears starting to stream out onto his pale cheeks.

Lucifer: Lilith...please my darling I'm sorry for whatever I did wrong.

Lucifer then proceeded to do something he'd never thought he'd do in his lifetime due to the man's humungous pride and ego.

Beg

He fell on his knees, clasped his hands together, and begged for her to change her mind. Never did Lucifer ever felt so pathetic in his entire existence. He thought that it would get Lilith to at least think about doing something other than divorce. However, the thirty-eight-year-old singer had already made up her mind a long time ago.

Lilith: I'm sorry Lucifer, but I don't think you were ever meant to be mine.

With that she stepped aside, threw open the doors of their large, grand home and walked out. Never to step inside her former home again. All while Lucifer kneeled on the ground in total despair. It was only when he heard a car engine turning on did, he turn around and saw Lilith pull out of the driveway with her purple convertible and proceed to drive away did he close the door behind him to let out the anguish sob that had built up in his throat.

--

(Two months later)

Lucifer felt like his life was slowly falling apart. Ever since Lilith left, she had been sending him papers and been talking through her lawyer to him. Lilith had been one the most shining aspects of his life. In the entirety of their marriage, he devoted to making her happy. Including to working hard to provide for the both of them. So that way she could work on her music career. He bought her anything she wished for; heck he'd buy her the greatest diamond in all the world to make her happy.

In the end he guessed it just wasn't enough. When she sent him the final paperwork to sign off on their divorce completely shut the once proud, strong man down. Lucifer hadn't been out of the house in weeks and had mostly been taking to moping around the house. Or just laying all day in his bed, not sleeping, just staring up the ceiling, wall, or even occasionally the tv in his room that he put on for white noise. He didn't even go to the office.

Which would have been worse if Lucifer wasn't the boss of his toy company. Even if lately, he's been having his brother/partner Mammon and his assistant Moxxine take care of his work for him. Speaking of family, his brothers, sisters, and even daughter had seen how bad his depression had been and wanted to help him. Especially his daughter Charlie, who went to her Uncle Ozzie and begged for her to find a way to make him feel better. Since him and Ozzie have been the closest out of all seven siblings. Oz had an idea, but he didn't know if it would work

Lucifer: A sex dungeon?!

Lucifer sat across from his brother in his living room while in his robe. Oz noticed he also had deep, dark bags underneath his eyes. His hair looked a bit oily, and he appeared to be growing some hair around his muzzle. However, despite his shaggy appearance his body was rigid, his stark blue eyes wide awake as he took in what his brother just suggested.

Ozzie: Hun, please I know this might seem a lot and too soon after...

Lucifer: I don't care about ugh her. Look Oz even if I wasn't hung up over losing my wife, I don't think it would be right to go to fucking prostitutes!

Ozzie: But that's the thing though I really think these girls or boys can help you, Luci!

Lucifer: How!? How in the hell can they help me!?

Ozzie: By helping you get over Lilith. If you're with one those bad guys down, there soon Lilith will be nothing more than a distant memory. Plus, I distinctly remembering you telling me about this one domniatrix porno you kept watching. You kept telling me how you wish you could be Lilith's naughty boy. Well now you can do that! Just you know not with her.

Lucifer: I told you about that. Since when?

Ozzie: Since that time at that barbeque back in July where you got drunk and confessed to me.

Lucifer must've been hard hammered drunk to have told his brother about that. Since usually Lucifer was extremely private when it came to what happened in his bedroom. The blond man opened his mouth to once again reject his brother's offer but then stopped to think about it. It had been so long since he'd been in the warmth of someone's arms in the bed. Even before Lilith left, she had been distant from him for quite some time.

It actually was the reason for Lucifer looking up on those sites in the first place. He knew no love would be with the person he'd be with; he still wanted to forget about his heartbreak. Even if it was for only one night. Taking a breath, he looked straight at his expecting brother and said,

Lucifer: Alright, I'll go.

[thcophagy]

while he was likely coming across as more mature and lived than she was, oz could relate to how frankie felt in that moment. he remembered how open the world had felt once he'd lost his virginity, no longer tied down to the worries and expectations held for years over what his first time was supposed to be like. things were rarely as scary as people made them in their heads, they were also not as enjoyment as they might've hoped but either way, you could never know how you'd feel about something until you took the plunge. he felt strangely proud of frankie, he'd known her for such a short amount of time and yet she'd taken a big step, it was thanks to his guidance and perhaps a touch of manipulation but she seemed happy enough; however she felt the next morning, oz was content in the knowledge he'd helped someone towards their freedom and wasn't that what all the poets and writers he loved fought to do? she was always pretty but her orgasm had brought a warm glow over her that oz found intoxicating. it made him want to push further and explore all the other ways to get her off, if riding his thigh had gotten her so hot then he was certain he could work wonders with his mouth or fingers. they'd have to find time for that some other night because there was no way oz was going to bat her hand away from him, not when her clumsy and hesitant touch felt so surprisingly good. he couldn't help but snort in amusement at how eager she was to prove himself to him; he wasn't in need of an ego boost but he wasn't about to turn one down. with past lovers he had developed a tendency to try and urge them to place him above themselves, even with the more strong-willed and like-minded individuals he'd pursued. he wanted to be seen as something special, someone worthy of the level of praise he yearned for and so far, it looked like frankie was capable of giving him that and tenfold. "you're sweet." he really hadn't needed to do much to win her over. his flirtatious had came at first as little more than instinct, a default he fell to when met with a pretty girl and she had fallen for it harder than he would've ever expected. now here she was, desperately trying to reason with him to allow her the chance to jerk him off. the night couldn't have gotten better if he'd written it out in prose. "okay. you can have whatever you want." he meant it too, for that moment at least. he made no fuss in trying to help her undo his jeans, some bravery was required and he couldn't coddle her more than he already had, both because she'd never gain the required confidence if he did and because it wasn't in his instincts to do so. once her hand had wormed its way into his pants and wrapped around his cock, oz's hips twitched and he exhaled a wobbly sigh, one he tried to hold back but ended up being huffed out of his nose. it would've been hard to miss the look of apprehension across frankie's face, he could only hope that it was due to her inexperience and not because of a sudden wash of regret. "it's okay." he reached out and brushed a stray curl away from her face and let his hand settle around the back of her skull, cradling her as gently as he could. "your hand feels good. keep going." a little dry, nothing that they couldn't fix with a little spit, plus he'd been leaking steadily throughout watching her grind against him so her touch wasn't a painful one. "take it slow at first, yeah? up and down, from the bottom right to the tip."

as a child, frankie had spent most of her time either alone or surrounded by her parents and other adults, which led her to feel as though she was wise beyond her years. her parents' friends and colleagues loved to tell her that, marveling over how mature she was for her age and claiming she must've been an old soul, so she couldn't help but take it to heart. all through her adolescence she'd felt as though she couldn't connect with her peers because her intellectual development was far beyond theirs, but as she transitioned into adulthood, she'd begun to see just how much she'd missed out on in terms of social milestones, and now she felt more childish than ever. this experience with oz was helping her feel how a twenty year old woman was meant to feel, all the reckless giddiness that came with exploring a new connection, and maybe it was only happening because she was drunk, but wasn't that all the more fitting? she felt reassured by him, comforted to the point where she wasn't tempted to flee from his home and never show her face in public again, a warmth blooming in her chest not from the product of arousal, but that of affection. "yeah... i dunno how to describe it, it was... i dunno." her cheeks were a soft pink, still barely able to meet his eyes from how bashful she felt trying to describe her feelings on the matter. "it's just different experiencing it with someone else, i guess." there was something about being seen as a sexual being, being perceived while in the throes of pleasure and hopefully contributing to their own that really intensified whatever she may be feeling. no matter what happened with them in the future, she would always remember the way he felt beneath her, the way he looked at her with lust in his eyes, the raspy tone of his voice egging her on as she chased her own climax. it was something she didn't think she'd ever get tired of, already imagining what it would be like to take things further, though she knew she shouldn't get ahead of herself. he certainly hadn't given her any indication that this would only be a one time thing, though— she couldn't imagine how anyone could speak such words of flattery with no intention to see her again. "well i'm really grateful... for everything." she assured him, making sure to catch his eye so he could see she was earnest before he became distracted by her hand clumsily fumbling over his erection. her lips curled into a grin once he lifted his attention back to her, nodding eagerly and pressing her hand a little harder over him. "i do want to," she insisted. "and i'm a really quick learner, so... you won't have to hold my hand the whole time." part of it was a desire to prove herself to him, making sure he knew she had something of value to offer him, but she also wanted to prove to herself that she was worthy of his attention. if it was all one sided, she'd no doubt feel inadequate, but providing him with the same enjoyment he'd given her would ensure that they were on equal standing. with his hand over hers, she felt a bit more confident, fondling the outline of his cock over his jeans and getting a good idea of the shape of him. with this bout of boldness, she used her other hand to pop open the button of his jeans and drag down the zipper, checking in with him for a moment before she wiggled out from under his grasp and slipped her way into his pants to dip beneath the waistband of his underwear and grip him fully. finally feeling the warmth of his bare cock, her confidence faltered, eyes widening slightly while she paused with her fingers wrapped around him, wanting to make sure she had his permission before she went any further.

[itsa-me-lily]

So here's y'alls first fight! Aren't you excited? Also I get to introduce y'all to one of my favorite girls.

Here is the Simon x Thimble playlist

Here is the MPS AU masterlist

Reminder, reader is fat. It's not a morally right or wrong thing, she's just fat.

Content warning;

Swearing, some weight stuff, Goggles

You woke up in bed, which typically wasn't a strange thing to do. But you hadn't gone to sleep in bed this time though. You'd crashed out on the couch after trying to read a book your mother had recommended, it was always obvious that the two of you had very different tastes in literature. So the fact that you had fallen asleep on the couch, but woke up in bed, was perplexing. Hopefully you weren't developing a habit of sleep walking. Sleep arguing was bad enough.

Padding out to the living room, you were prepared to look for clues to your mystery. Only you found Simon. On the couch. Reading the book that had put you to sleep. And judging by how much further into the book he had made it, he was enjoying it more than you had. He didn't even notice your presence until you were right in front of him. You even had to clear your throat for him to peer at you from over the pages.

"Was I still on the couch when you got home?"

"Yeah."

Ever the well of conversation your husband was.

"Did I sleep walk?"

"Negative."

Well that was not an answer you were expecting.

"Then how did I go from..."

You motioned between the couch and the bedroom door, as if the space was vast and truly impossible to have crossed other wise.

"Carried you."

"What?"

You didn't mean to sound flat in your question, but the idea that you had been carried around, regardless of if you were awake or not, wasn't one you liked. Not that Simon seemed to understand that, given how he raised a single eyebrow at how unenthused you sounded.

"That a problem?"

How could you answer this in a way that wasn't going to cause an issue. Because you could see this becoming an issue that would be annoying to have to deal with. Unfortunately the longer it took you to answer, the more likely it would be.

"No? Just wake me up next time."

Simon didn't seem satisfied with the answer given how he closed the book with a snap, giving you his undivided attention.

"You'd rather I wake you up."

You think he meant it as a question, even if he didn't say it that way.

"Yeah. Don't pick me up."

You could feel that curl of anxiety start in your gut, and it only got worse as Simon got up, his height causing you to have to crane your head back to look up at him.

"You hate getting woken up."

"Yeah well I don't like being picked up more."

"How come?"

Was this man serious? Was he honestly going to question you about why you didn't like something? Really you wanted to argue, tell him that it was none of his business and that you had made your request clear. But you remembered your mother's words that she had dispensed the last time you had complained to her about Simon, and his...lack of sharing at times. 'You don't get what you don't give'. Maybe you should stop complaining to your mother. Still, wouldn't hurt right? So with a sigh you just shrugged, meeting Simon's eyes once before looking aside.

"I'm heavy."

You had accepted what your body looked like ages ago. Understood that there were more important things than fitting into a certain size. Didn't mean you weren't aware of your body, the space you took up. You knew your body, and you knew you were heavy.

Instead of asking, or elaborating, Simon Riley did probably the worst thing he could have done. He picked you up. His arms were around your waist and your feet were off the floor before you register what he was doing. The second you did though it was like every nerve ending in your body was screaming no. You did not like this. You went tense, shoulders up to your ears and volume control wasn't your first concern as you practically shouted into Simon's face.

"Put me down. Put me down right now damnit!"

Whatever reaction Simon thought he was going to get from you, that hadn't seem to be one he was expecting. He did so, though the landing was a little jarring, most likely due to the sheer suddenness of your demands. It only served to make you angrier, you could feel it shooting up your spine. You could have been gentler as you pushed yourself out of his arms, but you didn't particularly care to be at the moment.

You didn't know if it was better or worse that he didn't say anything in his defense. Actually it was probably better that he was silent because it made it easier to cuss him out as you went back to the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Fuck the sleeping arrangements. He could sleep on the fucking couch that night.

Simon had heard other soldiers complain when they had marital disputes. He didn't always listen in, but when he did he could typically agree that it was somehow the soldier's fault. Now that he was on the other end of it though? He didn't get it at all. He had only been trying to show you that it wasn't an issue for him to pick you up. He went to the gym, he could lift. But then you got all huffy and loud, and slammed the door in his face. You had even made him sleep on the couch.

And it wasn't like it had gotten better the next day. Apparently you had still been mad because you hadn't talked to him at breakfast, just gone through your usual routine and left without a goodbye. All he did was pick you up. It wasn't even like he dropped you or anything.

The puzzle left him feeling sour, though he couldn't really pinpoint what it was about it that made him feel such. Was it the cold shoulder you gave him? Maybe it was the fact you made him sleep on the couch. Either way he didn't like the fact that apparently you were still mad at him and it apparently was obvious to anyone given how Soap pestered him all morning about it until Simon finally spilled during PT in the weight room. It did make him feel better though, that Soap was equally as confused as to why you were so upset.

"I mean I don't get why the hen's mad, but have ye tried apologizing LT?"

"I would if I knew what I was apologizing for."

"Wow you're both fucking stupid."

The new voice caused both him and Johnny to whip around, hackles raised at being caught unaware. Some woman racked her weights, brushing her hands together before paying them attention again, expression such that seemed to beg what they were waiting for. Thankfully Soap bit the bullet before Simon could rudely do it.

"You are?"

"Goggles. Mechanical Engineer Unit."

She held her hand out for a greeting as if she hadn't just insulted the both of them. Simon only stared at it before crossing his arms over his chest, puffing himself up a little to sooth his ego. Again Soap stepped in since he was probably going to be the more civil of the two.

"What makes ye think we're stupid?"

"Oh it's not a thought." There was a brief pause afterwards, intentional, before she continued, "Anyways big guy here clearly wasn't listening to this Thimble person."

Big guy? Since when had Simon become 'big guy'. Clearly his reputation for being a hardass was suffering since his marriage to you. He was going to have to fix that. And what did she mean that he 'clearly wasn't listening'. He listened to you fine. He slept on the couch didn't he? Simon tuned back in at Soap's sputtering, confused as to why the Scotsman's cheeks were a little flushed. He clearly had missed something.

Clearing his throat, Simon got everyone's attention again and he could give Goggles a firm stare down. Not that it helped much given how nonchalant she appeared. He had a point to make.

"I listen to my wife just fine."

"Clearly not since you did the thing she didn't like, right after she told you she didn't like it."

Simon did not enjoy the tone she was using with him. In his affront it took him a second for the words to really sink in. Sure he had kind of disregarded what you had said, but it was just to show you it was okay.

"I can pick up my wife just fine."

The sigh Goggles gave him sounded like it came from the depths of her soul, and he couldn't quite get what she had mumbled under her breath, but Simon could imagine it wasn't flattering. He was just pointing out the truth.

"And that's why you're stupid."

"No I'm not."

The look Goggles gave him begged to differ. He was going to have to find out her rank and CO, he was not going to tolerate this kind of flack from someone ranked under him.

"You made it about you and your ego."

"No I didn't."

"Why'd you pick her up then."

"To show I could."

"But she didn't want you to. She told you that, and you did it anyways."

"Cause she said she was too heavy and I was proving she ain't."

"It doesn't matter. You still ignored what she said and steamrolled over the boundary she set."

That...might have caught Simon off guard. Just a little. Goggles seemed to have taken his lack of rebuttal as an acceptance of the point she was trying to make because she continued.

"Look I don't think you were trying to be an asshole but you still were. What if she ignored you when you said you didn't like something."

Simon wanted to argue that you basically always did what you wanted, his opinion be damned but...that wasn't really true was it? You didn't make a fuss about the face masks, you were always careful to not just go grabbing at him, and even if it was with dramatics, you respected his space. At least he hadn't seen you attempt to get a pin board into his home office. He couldn't really remember him ever having to tell you that he needed or wanted those things. You just...seemed to pick up on it. And when you had told him something you didn't like he ignored it. Not maliciously but...roads to hell and good intentions as they said.

It was his turn to sigh, in defeat, shoulders slumping as he accepted the fact that he had messed up. Without much fanfare he turned to leave the gym, firmly ignoring Soap's confused shouts to wait and Goggles' 'you're welcome' that floated to him. He had an apology to give.

Simon didn't know how to give an apology. Sure he had heard that the usual was chocolates and a bouquet of roses, but that was typically for someone you were in a relationship with. What did one get their technical wife but really more a roommate person as a way to say 'I'm sorry'? He could go with chocolates, but he knew that you tried not to over indulge in them since it messed with your sugar levels, and roses seemed to romantic. He stood in the card aisle at the shops looking at the wide selection without really liking any of them. They were either too sappy or too impersonal, or just stupid.

With a rising sense of frustration Simon grabbed the first apology card that had caught his eye and made his way over to the hot food section. Fuck it, you were saying you wanted a bird the other night. Chicken could be a decent apology gift.

When you got home, you weren't as angry as you had been when starting the day. Honestly you kind of felt stupid. Most girls seemed to kill to have a man that could pick them up willynilly, you were just...an outlier. When you had asked a coworker for advice she had told you you were being dramatic and that if you weren't going to appreciate Simon she would. You didn't think Simon was into the geriatric type but you had told her you'd pass along the message at least. So apparently you were a dramatic outlier that needed to apologize. Great.

It seemed that Simon had gotten home before you, and wasn't expecting you back so soon given how he froze up at the kitchen table, shoulders hunched as he had his back to you. Might as well get it over with.

"Hey Simon I-"

"Wait."

You weren't expecting Simon to interrupt you while you were trying to say I'm sorry, neither were you expecting him to turn around and step away, revealing an entire rotisserie chicken and a card.

"You got chicken?"

"As a sorry."

"A sorry?"

You looked from the chicken to Simon, who somehow looked both stoic and sheepish at the same time. It was probably how he stuffed his hands into his pockets, like he didn't know what to do with them.

"Yeah. 'm sorry. Shouldn't have ignored what you told me."

Oh. That was...unexpected. You had anticipated having to apologize and pretend like the entire situation hadn't happened. You didn't think he'd apologize first, or at all. You both stood in awkward silence as you tried to think of what to do next. Should you still apologize? Just accept it and still pretend nothing happened?

Before your brain could make a choice, your stomach did it for you, grumbling loudly as the scent of the cooked meat wafted to you. You could feel yourself flush as Simon huffed in what was probably amusement, turning to grab what you were hoping were plates. There was a chicken to eat after all.

"Thanks. And...I'm sorry too. For just yelling at you...and making you sleep on the couch."

Simon seemed to shrug off your apology, handing you two plates and sets of silverware before digging around in the freezer for some sort of steam bag to throw into the microwave.

"I've slept in worse places."

"Still we have an agreement."

"Hn."

You figured that was the end of your rivetingly awkward conversation as you worked on carving the bird into portions to eat and then store away. You didn't mind the silence as the two of you set up dinner together and started to dig in, though it did catch you off guard when Simon decided to have a different one.

"Is it okay for emergencies?"

You looked up from phone, blinking owlishly as you tried to understand what he was saying.

"Is what okay?"

"Picking you up? It's okay during emergencies ya?"

Was Simon planning on burning down your house anytime soon? Before you could question him on it though, an idea struck you. He was trying to ask what the boundary was, so he wouldn't break it again. You tried to ignore the warmth that bloomed in your chest.

"Yeah, it's okay for emergencies."

"Good."

You nodded, going back to your phone to wonder why the hell your friend still hadn't responded to your messages.

"And Thimble?"

Once again you looked up at Simon to see him looking back at you seriously.

"Yeah?"

"You're not too heavy."

You wanted to argue differently, but before you could he cut you off.

"Not for me at least."

You had to look away, feeling a blush climb your cheeks.

"Thanks Simon."

"Hn."

Edit;

Why wasn't Soap really talking in the gym scene? Because I imagine Goggles said something kind of out of pocket that left him reeling for a minute. She is no better than a man some days and I love her for it.

Also this isn't my favorite piece but I wanted to introduce Goggles with her calling the boys out for being dumb, because that is just so her.

As always I hope you enjoyed it and feel free to drop an ask about anything.

[neverpathia]

you, my good sir, are a gem 💞💞💞 love all your stuff 🩷 any thoughts on how a smittunist meeting/conversation would go if they meet on or after happily ever after?

WAHOO and i know this probably isn't exactly a writing request but here's a funny thing, i actually kind of had a scenario like this in mind, and i was kind of thinking about writing it out and posting it when this ask came in! so i might as well just kill two birds with one stone (heh) and answer this request while writing out that excerpt here mwahah

sigh. have i said that romance wasn't really my thing? perhaps fortunately for you all, I may have lied.

so this came out a little more shippy than intended, and it's a bit long so I'm sorry if it gets boring, and it's kinda ooc but it is what it is I guess

===== ===== ===== =====

What had he done wrong?

What had he done wrong? What had he done wrong?

What had he done wrong, what had he done wrong, what had he done wrong what-had-he-done-wrong what-had-he-done-wrong? The finest garments a Princess could ever have been clad in. The most lavish settings a Princess could ever have stepped into. The best meals, the best games, the best of everything that she could ever have asked for. It was perfect. All of it ought to be perfect.

The Smitten had given her everything, but for that, he had been reduced to nothing.

Less than nothing.

Because 'nothing' at least required a 'something' to define it, and she was supposed to be his 'something'. Once upon a time, she had been his 'everything', and she would have remained so for all of eternity. It was their happily ever after. Everything would have been bliss. Perfection. The last chapter of their story; the closure they had been offered once and for all.

But there was the Princess, and there was the rest of them—the rest of him—dancing under the starlit sky he had shunned so. Dirt beneath their feet, grass-blades scraping the skin of their legs.

And here he was, trapped in the cabin. The torches no longer burned and only the dark was left. He, too, was the dark now. He was one with the bleak nothingness inside, left to rot away as they pranced and laughed.

They all no longer required him. Perhaps they never had in the first place.

So he watched them dance as he faded, because it was the only thing left to do. Their movements were graceful, elegant, and so natural. There was something about it that his 'grand paradise' had so plainly lacked. He couldn't comprehend it. It lay beyond raw passion, beyond what he thought was-

"May I have this dance?"

Something, someone had entered the cabin. Someone familiar. Like that other heroic voice, or like the Smitten himself; he was a semi-corporeal shadowy echo floating just as he did. He seemed to know him, though he didn't recall meeting him. This one was wily and devious. He shouldn't have liked him.

Yet he felt inexplicably drawn to him, like they were meant to be one. He could tell that he had been a piece of the Decider, the Hero. They both had. And the Smitten had felt the same pull at the banquets and games, but it had been resisted for all their sakes. How had it not been enough? How had it not been enough?

"Why have you come?" The Smitten's voice, once reserved only for the Princess's ears, came out far too hoarse. "Leave me be. Allow me to decay in solitude."

The other one, the Opportunist, cocked his head. "Hm, no, I don't think so."

Before the Smitten could respond, the Opportunist grabbed his hand and yanked him back onto the grand carpets. He pushed him—pulled him—twirled him around—

"Begone." The Smitten, weakened as he was, could only manage a low angry murmur. "I did this. It was I who failed to cover every eventuality. And she is unhappy. I made her unhappy. I...made...her...unhappy."

"Yes, that's true," said the Opportunist, but he continued with the dance.

Here they were, cavorting about a hollow mimicry of a palace, when at least one of them should have been dancing with the Princess instead. Outside. Where the Smitten had failed to take her; where he could have saved everything.

"So?" Resignation sat heavy, thick and bitter beneath Smitten's tone. He tried to wrench his hands away from his new partner's, but for some reason, he couldn't. "Isn't that what I deserve? Harken, am I not the true villain of this new story? Go forth. Enjoy your happy ending while it lasts."

Opportunist stepped to the side, his fingers still splayed across Smitten's palm as he shrugged with one shoulder. "Well, this ending looks like the Princess and the Decider's. Doesn't have to just be theirs, though. It could be ours too."

"I do not remain one of you any longer," Smitten spat. "For how should I?"

The Opportunist smirked, a horrible mirror of the Smitten's own smile at them from across the table earlier. "But you were! At least I remember you. Besides, this can still be a happy ending for everyone! Including you."

He brought his mouth closer to the Smitten's ear. "Or, forget about you, I'm the one who wants this dance."

Smitten was too tired for rage. "Why?"

"Well, I can't quite put my finger on it myself," Opportunist mused. "But it's like, the Decider and that other one and you and me and the Princess, we're all fragments of the same thing, you know? Except there's two major parts, us and the Princess."

Opportunist paused for a bit, silent in contemplation, but he and Smitten continued to move in tacit harmony.

"There it is," said Opportunist. "Of course I'm drawn to the Princess, we all are. But I feel more drawn to you. Because the Princess and the rest of us, well, the crack between us is too wide and we're too separate. And even if I'd joined their dance, there's still a missing piece somewhere, and I suppose it must be you. But you're a closer thing to me than she is. We fit tighter, better perhaps."

Opportunist bowed forward and Smitten leaned back in response. Their bodies pressed close together: chest against chest, hand clasped in hand, fingers gently intertwining.

"So that's how it is." The Smitten stared into the Opportunist's eyes, but he didn't know how to read them. It all felt so right and it all felt so wrong; it felt so impossible; it felt like something that he should never have been able to feel.

And he couldn't understand it at all.

"How dare you?" Smitten rose, forcing the Opportunist backwards. "How dare you utter such...balderdash?"

"It's just how I felt, since I know you like feelings so much."

"No. This is nonsense! The Princess is the only absolute right. We must be with her, you must be one with her. How could you forgo such a chance? How could you forsake her, how could you choose to stay behind in this wreck and deny your true happy ending, how could you? Do you go against her? Are you mad, are you impertinent? For we have wronged and I may not make right, but you...you. How dare you?"

"How dare me?" This angered the Opportunist. "As if you did anything right! As if you're not the one responsible for her suffering in the first place! We ate and we ate and we ate then we played and we played—do you know how boring it got? How stale? And then it all lost its meaning and everything was just so empty! And you caused it, and you forced her to sit through everything! She was so scared! So before you even think about going all 'oh, how dare you, how dare you,' think about that first."

For a few beats, no one spoke. And still they danced, two shadows, graceful blank silhouettes amidst the vast unlit chambers.

"Alright, I take everything back," said Opportunist. "In the end, you've lost. Look at you. You were so powerful that reality itself bent according to you and your simpy little desires. And now, what are you? An exhausted little thing."

The Opportunist led the dance, steering him this way and that, with but a few flicks of his wrists and turns of his heels. He grinned. "So I'm still a winner, and you're still the loser here."

Smitten glared at him. "Have you no shame?"

"Not one bit, no."

"You have come to gloat, then? To laugh at my fall?"

"Why, yes I have! Can't say I don't enjoy it. See? I've come up on top. Just as I've always wanted."

And the Opportunist did laugh, throwing his head back as he cackled and shook. Amused, he veered aside, dragging the Smitten with him in a circle.

"So that was you," Smitten seethed. "The one who said we could stay in the cabin, she and I. The one who started everything. You caused it. You. You!"

"Yes." Opportunist sighed. "Fine, I admit it. I did something wrong there."

He violently jerked Smitten's arm backwards with his own, as if he wanted to wrench it from its socket.

"But who was the one who ripped our heart out?" demanded Opportunist. "And who made this whole place like this, and did everything he could to keep her unhappy? That definitely wasn't me. No, I think it was—"

"No more, I beseech you." Smitten interrupted. "I..."

He hesitated.

"I did make her unhappy. And right now, she's happier. Without me."

"Of course she is. You brought this loss upon yourself, lover-boy. Now isn't that satisfying."

Smitten didn't speak.

"I do agree with you, to be honest," said Opportunist. "You do deserve this. To fade away alone and unloved."

Smitten looked up at him. "Then why do you still take my hand in yours?"

Opportunist didn't respond either.

And there was another moment of silence. They quietly dared each other to pry apart their hands, to cease this dance, to stop these motions altogether.

But they didn't.

"Something about this still feels whole," said Opportunist. "I'm more complete here. Don't you feel it?"

"I don't know." The Smitten averted his gaze. "Truth be told, I don't know how it's meant to feel. But I think I do."

A few more steps. A few more turns. Pulling together, falling apart, pulling close again.

"This feels more complete," whispered Smitten.

"It does," said Opportunist. "But I still don't like what you did."

"And nor do I," said Smitten. "You vile, scheming wretch."

"You delusional lovesick psycho."

"..."

"...Are you scared to let go too?"

Something grey threatens the edges of their sight. Yet they dance still.

"I am."

Something ancient pulls at them, passes over the walls and floors. Yet they dance still.

"But you know I still can't forgive you, right?"

Something feathered reaches out and away, consuming, morphing, becoming. Yet they dance still.

"I know what I've done. I'm sorry, I truly am."

Something taloned stretches into the long quiet, and a mirror is touched. And the dance ends; still they stand hand in hand.

"I hate you." The Opportunist reaches out and pulls the Smitten into an embrace.

"I hate you." The Smitten reciprocates, resting his head against his shoulder, pulling him in, ever closer.

Shards of broken glass dissipate into oblivion.

[breakfastteatime]

A 'minific' I started is now 10k and nowhere near finished...

🙃

[iridescentoracle]

Hello! I am here to ask about your Dior headcanons re: the political cohesion of Doriath. 👀

Oh man, I didn't expect anyone to actually take me up on that!

(Okay so I got partway into writing this and then realized I should probably note up front that I tend to stick to the Silm (& LOTR/the Hobbit where applicable, but they... aren't, here) as the most authoritative version of canon, and I can get into why and where the nuances/exceptions are there (I do say tend to stick, it's not hard and fast!), but that's mostly a side note here: the point is simply that I don't really factor other drafts or the poetic Leithian into my take on Doriath, Thingol, Dior, etc, just what we're told in the actual Silm. I also read the Silm as an in-universe history text compiled by in-universe scholars, who, being people, are going to have their own biases and blind spots, even when they're doing their best to be accurate!)

So, this is a two-part thing: #1, there's the political cohesion of Doriath before & at the time of Thingol's death, which i talked about in the tags of the post that prompted this ask but is kind of necessary as context for the Dior part to make sense, and #2, there's the actual Dior headcanons. Both of these parts are very long because I've never really seen anyone else suggest any of this stuff and I want to explain where I'm coming from thoroughly enough that it actually makes sense to people who aren't me, but the TL;DRs:

TL;DR 1: I think Doriath was probably a hot mess politically after Thingol died, with tensions between various groups of Sindar and Laiquendi in the leadup to Thingol's death & Melian's departure, and more political tensions afterwards between those who wanted Beren & Lúthien to come be the new rulers, and those who thought they should stay gone, with someone still in Doriath taking over.

TL;DR 2: I think Dior became Eluchil, potentially at the request of some portion of the Iathrim, hoping to help prevent Doriath from devolving into civil war, and saw dealing with the Silmaril-Fëanorioni situation as a lower priority than stabilizing Doriath's internal political situation until it was too late.

1. The political cohesion (or rather, lack thereof) in Doriath prior to Thingol's death

So, okay, the thing about Doriath is that we don't actually have any real idea of like... how much the Iathrim liked being the Iathrim? We're never told about any intra-Iathrim conflict, but a) the Silm was probably compiled mostly by surviving Gondolindrim or their descendants, so they wouldn't know about anything liike that unless surviving Iathrim told them, and after the Second Kinslaying I don't imagine many Iathrim would've been eager to talk about how things had actually been tense/messy/etc when they could remember everything as having been perfect until it was ruined by the Fëanorionrim, and doubly so after the Third Kinslaying, so why would anything like that make it into the Silm?

and b) what we do know about Doriath is that it wasn't really Doriath as we know it until Morgoth came back to Middle-earth, and everything went to hell.

At the start of the first age, you suddenly get Doriath (the fenced land!) being the one protected area of a continent that used to be totally free and open. How many Sindar actually didn't particularly care for Thingol's style of leadership, or simply preferred to live nomadic lives, going basically wherever they pleased, until suddenly that wasn't safe anymore, and you were only guaranteed survival if you were close enough to Menegroth to be within the Girdle when it went up? ditto how many Laiquendi had no interest in swearing loyalty to Thingol right after their own king had just been killed, but again, made it to safety and stayed there over taking their chances on their own in the outside world?

I think it's entirely possible that there were always potential political tensions under the surface in Doriath that just... never got written about, because they never boiled over into actual political conflict, and so it was never the sort of tension that had any bearing on the historical record.

Except then Beren & Lúthien happen to the world, and a few years later the Narn, and in the blink of an eye suddenly the only king Doriath has ever had is dead, and the only queen Doriath has ever had is gone and the Girdle with her—and more than that, the only rulers the Sindar had ever had for three thousand years before Doriath existed.

And where a few years earlier I think the Iathrim would probably have turned pretty universally to Lúthien, now she's abandoned them for her human husband—and while she's my favorite character in the entire legendarium hands-down and I don't blame her, I think that's another place there might have actually been some very mixed feelings among the Iathrim that nobody wanted to admit to later because how could anyone have been upset with Lúthien—and on top of her abandoning them for him, I think it's extremely probable most of Doriath did not actually get over their xenophobia about humans in general or Beren in specific when Thingol did (we know for sure at least some of Doriath didn't, cf. Saeros insulting Túrin's mother & sister to his face), but again, who's going to admit to having had a grudge against the holy couple of Middle-earth after the fact, you know?

Conversely, there could've been a sizeable faction of Sindar who had been totally loyal to Thingol until everything happened with Beren & Lúthien, but who found his actions towards them and/or Finrod to be where they drew the line, and while (unlike B&L themselves) that faction stayed in Doriath, there could've been a new, additional tension on that front.

Finally, for all we know there were multiple factions within the Laiquendi of Doriath, with political tensions stretching back to before their king died, rooted in who-even-knows!

2. Dior

All of that, of course, sets up a very, very messy political situation for Dior to walk into.

The Doriath stuff is arguably more speculation than actual headcanon, but here's where the unambiguous headcanons come in: I don't think "Dior Eluchil set himself to raise anew the glory of the kingdom of Doriath." Obviously that's how it got written down, but bluntly, I can't see Beren and Lúthien having a kid that stupid or, like, power-hungry and arrogant?

What I can see is a situation where the messenger that brought word of Thingol's death and Melian's departure asked Beren & Lúthien to come take over as the new king and queen, we promise we're not mad about you leaving and we won't be xenophobic to your husband anymore we swear it's fine now pretty please, Beren & Lúthien said no, and the messenger either asked Dior as a second choice, or said "okay fine none of that was actually true but Doriath is falling apart and we need a leader ASAP and there's about eight different contenders* (mostly kinsmen of Thingol or Laiquendi) being backed by various factions and it's going to devolve into civil war any minute so if you care at all—" and Dior said "would I do?"

(* Ask me about my Galadriel headcanon)

I don't think Dior necessarily wanted to be king of Doriath, and I don't think he saw the throne as his birthright or anything like that; I don't think anyone involved, from Thingol to Lúthien to Dior himself, ever considered the possibility of Thingol dying and needing an heir! I think it's possible he was asked, or at most that he offered, and either way, I think he saw becoming king as taking on a responsibility for the sake of others.

(Which, like, "well here's a potentially impossible task that I'm going to take up even though probably no one thinks I'm actually capable of it, but it's my duty to help others as best I can" sure does sound to me like an attitude one might develop when raised by Lúthien "I kicked Sauron's ass cast a sleep spell on Morgoth and persuaded the Valar to find a loophole in the fabric of reality" Tinuviel and Beren "I stayed by my father's side as an outlaw to give my mother time to lead the rest of our people away hopefully to safety knowing I would never see her or any of them again (and then spent several years being a giant thorn in Morgoth's side for good measure)" Barahirion, where "apparently my grandpa I may or may not have ever met died, guess that makes me the king of a place i may or may not have ever been" does... not.)

I also think he either took on the epithet Eluchil, or was given it by whichever factions of the Iathrim accepted him as king, when he actually became king. Obviously he's going to be referred to as Dior Eluchil even before that in retrospect because that's how he's thought of later, but that doesn't mean it was actually a name he always had, you know?

The final thing is, I think if Dior essentially walked into a political situation five seconds from devolving into civil war, it makes his inaction regarding the Silmaril prior to the Second Kinslaying make more sense: the Fëanorioni have been sitting around doing nothing about the Silmaril in Doriath / with Beren & Lúthien this whole time, the letter saying "hey that's our Silmaril give it back now" is probably just a formality, and Dior's only been ruling for a couple years, there's still plenty of people dubious about whether he should be king at all, he might well be subject to at least some of whatever xenophobia remains about humans in Doriath, and in general all the work he's done on stabilizing the kingdom will absolutely come undone again if he screws up; he's trying to keep a kingdom from falling apart, the Silmaril thing can wait.

Of course, it wasn't a formality, and it couldn't wait, but why would Dior have known that?

[stardust-swan]

Does anyone remember that one genre of YA books that were aimed at and about teen girls, but the protagonists would all be depressed and have some kind of substance abuse issue and would talk candidly about sex and fixate on boys and have friends they didn't really like that much (shopping was also a staple of this genre) and just generally come across more like 20 somethings at a party college than 15 year olds who just started their sophomore year feeling sad bc their summer holiday romance just fizzled out

[tvrningout]

THE DANCING DRUID | BALDUR'S GATE 3 AU

you remember now. foraging for herbs, goblins swarming you, a painful blow to your skull, and then... nothing. how is it you came to be aboard a nautiloid?

you are more concerned about the tadpole in your head than how it got there. you are more curious how you are not a splatter of viscera upon the beach. who cares how it happened? you have no idea where you are and ache all over. ► could the goblins have something to do with it?

you have never known goblins to align themselves with illithids, but you suppose there is a first time for everything. no matter your theories, the pressing matter of your tadpole hangs over your head; you need to find a healer. soon.

born to a drow mother and human father, chiyo grew up in a small village in the wilds of faerun. she felt more at home among the flora than people who eyed her warily, though, often exploring the forest, marking paths to pretty fields and little hideaways. it seemed to come natural to chiyo, like she belonged among the bubbling brooks and whispering leaves. it felt natural.

noticing her affinity for nature, her father taught her how to harness its magic and how to honor and serve silvanus; her mother, too, taught her the teachings of eilistraee, the goddess who had wished for the drow to return to the surface as well as the deity she had once served as a cleric. the young half-drow sometimes doubted that the gods would truly watch over someone so insignificant, but she learned and worshipped them nonetheless.

there came a day when her father decided it was time that they return to the circle he left long ago. his attempts to create one of his own had been unsuccessful over the years, and chiyo could learn from the druids there, find a community that she would never find in the village they currently lived in. so they left for the emerald grove, and there they have stayed.

additional notes:

chiyo is a druid of the circle of the land, focusing more on magic that manipulates the elements than wild shaping; eilistraee also plays a part in her magic/combat, making her partial to blades and allowing her to use spellsong to heal and buff/debuff those around her. she may wield moonfire as well, though this spell is mainly intended to provide light rather than having any combat use.

she and her family have lived in the emerald grove for the past 8 years, making chiyo 28 in this verse. she's familiar with the druids and tieflings, most likely on good terms with most of them, but i won't assume close friendships unless plotted/given the okay!

she still has similar issues to her original verses, such as struggling to make real connections and opening herself up and being vulnerable. even so, she makes the decision to continue travelling with her companions not only because it's the right thing to do and her fate hangs in the balance, but because she grows attached to them.

i'm writing chiyo as " tav, " but i don't mind one bit writing her as a companion -- basically if you want your muse to be the group's leader, just let me know <3

i won't be using icons for this verse, but i'll have a screenshot of chiyo's appearance below!

i'm sure i'll add more here as things come to mind!

[sschmendrick]

I kinda miss hanging out with old people. All my friends used to be old people.

But the older I grow, and the more I'm expected to behave well like a normal adult, the harder I find it to keep those links. I'm lost between trying to stick to a script I don't know the words of to have a proper normal and interesting relationship for them, and allowing myself to screw up a little, be boring, be interested in stuff they aren't, having opinions they don't agree with (for silly stuff like music, though yk me), not be cool. Cause the latter stresses me out. Cause I see no reason for people to want to be friends with me if not that.

[paintedpawz]

Finally found the art program for me it seems, even though Krita gave me some troubles at first, I got comfortable pretty quickly once I worked out the tools. :D I’ve been wanting to practice with reference images, as well as it helps cement my fursona’s design!  Still might tweak the colors to be a little more pleasing to the eyes.  Even than, Pig looks amazing in digital art now that I got a better grasp on their design! 

Anyway, Pigment is happy because they woke up and remembered it’s pride the 1st!!! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Reference was this meme~

[springcatalyst]

🖊 for any milo and/or reiji details they fascinate me ^-^

YES thank u they live in my brain

Let me go on a tangent before I even get to what this ask actually is cause why wouldn’t I- Milo and Reiji are interesting characters to compare to each other, because despite their entwined storylines, I don’t draw a lot of connections between them as they were designed.  Characters that never interact are fun to draw conclusions with because it’s more obscure out-of-universe things:  Julian and Milo are so different but they follow very similar paths and come from very similar places.  Milo and Brooke (actually they do interact but only like, once) both deal with the results of a corrupted worldview that once questioned, can’t be ignored once again.  Reiji and Diana share an inherently wary, bleak outlook on how the world functions as a result of their own experiences.  And characters that do interact but were designed that way are... designed that way.  Julian and Liliana are the same stuff poured into different molds, impossibly similar and impossibly different, and that drives everything about their relationship- they’re foils.  Diana and Julian start at the same place in the same situation, (for different reasons), and end up wildly different people in opposite directions- they are diverging paths evidenced by truth or lies. 

But Milo and Reiji aren’t connected by anything inherent or anything unchangeable.  Their meeting in the first place is mostly chance and a little bit of give and take of compassion.  They stick together because the alternative is being alone in a world that’s so much bigger than both of them, so much older, and just a little bit more broken.  Their relationship is a choice in a way that really isn’t the case for a lot of other characters. 

And I mean, they do have parallels, but they seem different somehow, because they actually apply in-universe.  They reflect off each other.  They both leave something behind that they wish they could get back: but while Reiji’s was taken from him by circumstance and chance, Milo’s was a culmination of something grown that eventually he had to choose to abandon, though if there was any other way, he would have taken it.  (He tried, before.  It didn’t work.) 

But now they’re both missing something, and with it, their place.  Reiji doesn’t know where he belongs and the truth is that he doesn’t belong anywhere.  He can’t return to the one place he did- (it wasn’t a place, but a people.  They’re long gone, even as they live) -and now he searches aimlessly for someplace he can return to.  He doesn’t find one.  Milo loses everything he’s ever known when he walks away, and even as he makes the decision to, it feels like the admission of some crime (it looks that way to them, and he knows it).  He longs for the community he lost, but even if he gets something close to it, it’s wrong, because it isn’t them, and because the reason he left still follows him. 

They’re both ghosts wandering a vast expanse of unknown.  There is exploration in it- Milo especially does genuinely love the places he passes through, the people he meets briefly, the idiosyncrasies of each town, city, village.  Reiji less so- he’s only ever known the wandering, so it isn’t as special to him.  He’s always looking for something that will change, but even so, traveling with Milo forces him to see things he wouldn’t otherwise. 

The difference between them is that Milo stops being a ghost.  As time goes on, less and less is searching and more and more is exploring.  More is fixed than is broken.  But the opposite is true for Reiji.  As he finds nothing it feels more and more like he is one of very, very few.  That he has found no place to exist because there is no place for him, for those like him.  Reiji is looking for answers in an environment that buried most of them, in a world that hunts the rest.  And it becomes this obsession- a thousand whys. 

Why didn’t his flock look for him?  Why did he even survive?  Why is he hunted?  Why did it start and why won’t it change?  Why is the world sitting on the ashes of an older one?  Why are people broken by something they don’t remember?  Why does every place he goes scream that there used to be more?  Why are his people a part of it?  Why are they here?  Why do they occupy a world that is so clearly not made for them?  Why does he not know where they are made for? 

Reiji asks a thousand whys and they can all be summarized by one what: What happened?

Milo and Reiji cross incomprehensible distances and in the time that takes, a lot changes.  Milo goes from being a ghost of who he was and who he should be to being alive in a way he wasn’t before, genuine in a way he didn’t allow.  Milo looks for an answer in a different way than Reiji, because he is looking for certainty.  He wants someone to tell him, with no room for error, what is true and what is corrupt.  He wants surety and permanence in a way that just doesn’t exist, and so instead must choose which side he’s on- he must decide what to believe, because nobody can tell him black and white.  With that choice becomes an acknowledgement that the world isn’t as simple as good and evil, and the two can very much coexist, that perfect and unredeemable don’t really exist, not here, anyway.  He’s allowed to just be.  Reiji, though, doesn’t get the opportunity to make that choice, to take that answer.  He isn’t looking for the answer to a moral question or a cosmic should.  He is looking for a reason, which is an order of magnitude more impossible to find.  He looks to the past for why and the nature of time is that he keeps getting further and further from it.  He finds very little, which only makes him look harder, which makes it worse when he finds even less.  He starts down an impossible spiral that he can’t get out of until he finds what he wants, but what he wants just doesn’t exist in the way he needs. 

[rubberbandballqueen]

just talked to my sister abt an issue i had w/smth she did just like i would w/anyone else n for some reason it felt so strange. like, being whiny and accusatory to your siblings when they do something you don't like is so normal. i did it for like twenty years, even after i stopped doing it to people outside the family.

it just feels so weird to just be like, "hey. i appreciate that you decluttered the bathroom n stuff, but i think you threw away my pen cleaning tools. can you tell me next time you declutter one of my spaces so that i can help instead?" like.

???

[hazbinbabbling4ever]

amazon marketing is so good at marketing itself as very pro lgbt+ but only if it means spoiling the series to people (see good omens and the leaked "every" spoiler*), but when it comes to actually marketing the single lgbt+ serie? I've never seen either good omens or hazbin hotel on the front page.

HELL YESSSSSS! (I am a bit salty that you don't see it in their Amazon Originals section on the "front page", but whatever)