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megamindsupremacy · 1 year

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Star Wars Fic Recs (Part 6)

And we’ll be together by punsbulletsandpointythings

Kix never wanted to be a part of the Resistance -

An echo in the force (a whisper in a cave) by muerarashaye

Jedi Knight Feemor is on Toprawa, having just finished a mission with the Antarian Rangers before heading back to Coruscant for the first time in years. He has a busted arm from his mission, but only fractures and some strained tendons, nothing crazy, and spends the next day on paperwork and a healing trance. Nothing unusual, in the life of a Watchman.

The next morning, his arm is worse than when he went to bed. His mission reports are entirely unsubmitted. No drafts exist. The fruit he ate yesterday is still in the bowl. What. The. Fuck.

Lightbearer by esama

After his Master's death Obi-Wan Falls. Anakin picks up the pieces. -

Composing hallelujah by mirandatam

Shmi Skywalker from eight different perspectives in the days leading up to A New Hope. Some things change, and others do not.

“You do have a habit of getting into trouble, don’t you,” the woman says after K-2 takes out the last of the stormtroopers.

“Who are you?” Jyn finally demands.

The woman raises an eyebrow. “That’s a rather rude way of putting it,” she says. “But then, I’ve been rather rude myself, haven’t I?” She nods to Jyn, something that may have been half a bow and may have just been a nod. “My name is Shmi.”

(Prior knowledge of the AU not really necessary.)

Twin suns by SWModdy

Desperate and alone, Obi-Wan Kenobi pours his ability into a ancient and forbidden technique that borders the Dark. He unsticks himself from the timeline and is reborn as Ben Skywalker, younger twin of Anakin Skywalker. With only faint memories of the future and an uncanny ability that even the Jedi do not understand to see the future, Ben navigates his brother, peace, love and war while trying to make a life again. -

Veiled in Light by esama In which Obi-Wan Kenobi dies at the age of thirteen to save Master Qui-Gon Jinn's life and Ben Kenobi still manages to find a way to cause problems on purpose.

I don’t want you to be at peace (I want you to fight) by sealure

He doesn't get to do this. He doesn't get to come back just to leave again. Because Ahsoka Tano has been alone for seventeen years and he does not get to do this. She will not let him. After almost two decades of running, hiding, grieving, fighting, she's finally found her Master again. He's back in the Light, and there is very little she will not do to keep him there. -

Frame thy fearful symmetry by asparagus_writes

Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Fives, and Echo get captured, but the enemy has plans to make this a different kind of imprisonment. Unfortunately for them, and also Anakin, their plan goes awry.

Or, the Separatists learn that injecting the Chosen One with a Force-suppressing drug has unpleasant and dangerous side effects.

Fire to ash, present to past (who knows for tomorrow?) by blueberrywizard

"For the longest time nobody really knew what happened to Obi-Wan Kenobi. One day, shortly before his fifteenth birthday, there was an anomaly in the Force. Not a grand one, no. It was more of a deep, mournful sigh, heard only by few."

Obi-Wan Kenobi is a survivor. And the Force loves him, even if he doesn't know why.

[or: Obi-Wan is fifteen again, things are different, people are confused, but maybe there's something good at the end of the path]

Order by autonomaisa09

Fox saves Luke from what he thinks is an assassination attempt by someone with a very familiar face.

#mads posts #fic recs #fic rec list #star wars fic recs #star wars fic rec list

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mandaloriandy · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne Characters: Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Background & Cameo Characters Additional Tags: Take me instead, Misunderstandings, This was going to be whump but instead it's basically comedy, Magic, Unconventional Families Summary:

When Grayson and his Father are fighting, they're incapable of agreeing on anything. Including, for example, whether or not Damian should be allowed to patrol on school nights.

It's when they're getting along that he most often finds himself stuck in the Manor overnight while all his family goes out to fight crime. When they're both insistent on nonsense such as a good night's sleep and healthy work-life balance, he has to use every last bit of his Mother's and Father's training to gain his freedom.

#dc #batfam #andy original

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histrionic-dragon · 2 years

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Weekend Reading Recs

Not Marvel this time! And just one story this week--except it’s also sixteen. It’s a series: the Jedi Shmi series by MirandaTam. I’ve read almost all of it in the past week.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/480208

The basic, initial premise is that Shmi leaves Tatooine as well as Anakin, and because she is also basically Chosen One material except for being thirtyish, she becomes a Padawan too--largely in part because she is thirtyish, she’s an adult who has a full and nuanced understanding of the world, and she makes a good argument to the Jedi Council that attachment can also lead to compassion as well as suffering.

She becomes Yoda’s Padawan.

In that basic premise, and in a few moments early in the series, it can feel maybe a little cliche/Mary Sue-ish if you want to read it critically--“she comes out of nowhere, picks up meditation and mental shielding without being taught, disrupts the Council, and becomes Yoda’s Padawan just because she’s so shiny and awesome?”--but it’s honestly less cliche and Mary Sue-ish than, well, Anakin in The Phantom Menace. And she’s already being written as an interesting and complex adult, talking to Qui-Gon as a peer and giving advice to Obi-Wan. She’s got unintentional Force mastery in some ways already, which plays into it too.

The way she thinks of that use of the Force ties in with some of my favorite stuff about this series, which is Tatooine slave culture and legends, the knowledge of the sandstorms and suns, how to hide while staying true to yourself. There is a lot of that and it’s great.

Then we get into Beru (as in Aunt Beru), who is now Jango Fett’s protege, and her adopted brothers the clones....

Oh, and Anakin does make good on that line that Phantom Menace threw in there and then didn’t follow up on, where he dreamed that he’d come back to Tatooine and free all the slaves. It’s more complicated than that, and involves Beru and Ahsoka, but yeah.

Seriously, it’s so good. Very insightful comments on self-knowledge and duty and action that are applicable to spirituality and to activism; great pacing; good character voices; funny at times and very exciting at others.

#Star Wars #Weekend Reading Recs #Shmi Skywalker #Jedi Shmi #Star Wars fanfic #clones #Tatooine #Mandalorian politics #great OCs #just read these

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 4 months

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Lonely night

by MirandaTam Sometimes the most dangerous part of patrolling Gotham is trying to get home. Words: 3017, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Whump, Broken Bones, Tim Drake is Robin, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, mostly hurt but you KNOW this boy is getting smothered in comfort, the minute Dick finds out about this whole mess via https://ift.tt/7wPVzSH

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

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approximateknowledge · 4 months

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4 and 17 for the ask game!

^for 4: rarepair; rose<>grand highblood (kurloz) works *so damn well actually?!*

and for 17:

^i don't even normally ship these idiots flush-ways (they're moirails in canon imo), but this fic is just so fucking good? and fun? and cute? very warm blanket

(sao brainrot is real im powerless to stop it they give me the happy chemicals)

#ask game #fic asks

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thefoundationproject · 3 years

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Fox is actually very gentle with cadets and shinies and other kids, isn't he? I bet that's part of what attracted Ponds to him, even if Ponds didn't realize it at the time. Seeing him work with some CT cadets in a training exercise, maybe? (sorry I keep sending asks and comments and things, I'm in a bit of a star wars hyperfocus mode lately)

He is most definitely. Even adult vode, like the CG troopers? He’s extraordinarily patient. To the point where Guard Command sometimes get annoyed like you would punt me out a door for that and of course Fox would go ‘sure, but you won’t karking break from that’. I’m sure that’s one of the things Ponds found incredibly attractive but who even knows what goes on in Ponds’ head. I’m sure it was a whole mash of things: his strength, patience (when he feels like), his whole entire Foxishness. Ponds has been gone of Fox for a looooooooong long time...

#mirandatam

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suzukiblu · 3 years

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I was just rereading "rumor has it" and my brain is insisting – iroh did have that affair with ursa, but it was *after* zuko was born. He knows full well that zuko is not his son. However, the timing is just ambiguous enough that he's not quite sure about azula...

Hahaha oh God, can you imagine how mad Azula and Zuko would BOTH be?? Can you IMAGINE.

Azula would burn down the worrrrrrld.

#rintalk #mirandatam

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lumateranlibrarian · 3 years

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A fusion between the Soft Wars universe by @thefoundationproject and the Jedi Shmi AU by @mirandatam.

In which Rex adopts a commander, and Lock is introduced to his similarly-ranked brothers. Sometimes recovery is time and distance. Sometimes recovery is the Shebse you meet along the way.

Behold in all its unbeta-ed, OOC glory, except for Cody, who I maintain I got spot-on.

I absolutely, wholeheartedly recommend both parent series!! Soft Wars is the full-fluff delight we need in these trying times, and I catch something new and stealthily plot-relevant each time I reread the Jedi Shmi AU. I’m so invested, you guys have no idea.

#lock deserves nice things #instead he got squad shebs #my fic #my stuff #thefoundationproject #mirandatam #Soft Wars #Jedi Shmi AU #star wars #the clone wars #tcw

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notbecauseofvictories · 4 years

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Have you read the Goblin Emperor by katharine addison?

I have! It’s been a while but I ended up really loving Goblin Emperor---despite some of the hurdles it threw in my path. (I have an awful memory for names, which is why reading Tolstoy was hard and why Addison proffering a fake dictionary’s worth of titles made sinking into the world so difficult.)

I chalk my eventual enjoyment up to the genius of having Maia as a narrator and lens. As a character, Maia is so incredibly and swiftly endearing; after just a few pages I trusted him to be clever and kind and solidly trustworthy, to let him guide me as reader through the world in which he’d found himself. I think it’s the key to the whole book, because if you don't care about Maia and how Maia is thinking and what Maia is feeling then it is a slow slog through fake administrative and political minutiae. But I did and do and so it was a pleasure to sit beside this nervous, over-thoughtful, fundamentally honest man as he navigated all the intricacies and strangeness of his ascension.

Also, a dryly and slyly funny book. You have to pay attention to really notice it, but there’s such a wealth of irony there if you’re willing to be patient.

#from the bookshelf #mirandatam #goblin emperor

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gallusrostromegalus · 4 years

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I am so bewildered by the actions of the previous owners of your house - from what I can piece together from the bits and pieces you've mentioned about them, it seems like they were just... very very confused about what any object or appliance is actually supposed to be used for??

Oh what’s happened is that it’s a townhouse, which sort of invite this kind of befuckenry. It’s expirienced the typical townhouse/joined house lifespan:

Developer, having reccieved some sort of government grant to build low-income family housing, builds a buttload of town houses as cheaply as possible, namely with cheap materials, about 10% smaller than you’d normally make the features of a house and with pretty much no long-term planning

Before the economy was completely fucked, young people would buy houses like this, live in them for a couple years to build up thier credit score/make enough mortgage payments to get a decent down payment built up, then sell it to buy a For Real House

Some of thes owners will engage in Construction projects to boost the value of the townhouse. Some of them are good (Bless whatever former owner put granite down on the countertops) most suck (whoever cut the unecessary door between my bedroom and the house’s only bathroom, the cask of water heater, and whoever srewed a tv into the chimney)

time, entropy and HOA laziness happens to the surrounding area, leading to For Serious problems that will eventually lead to the neighborhood being bulldozed right as it’s most vulnerable population can finally afford it.

Currently I’m in the early phases of stage 3- the house is sound, overall. The walls and floors are level and the pipes and ductwork all work and the wiring is definitely up to code, but I’ve got some... weird aesthetic bits in the house and the HOA is five years behind fixing some stuff on the property, while Also threatening to fine me if I go to fix it myself. Getting a house without an HOA is like finding a fucking Unicorn.

#Housing #the garden of earthly HOA violations #this is not great but still so much better than renting #mirandatam

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lichlover · 4 years

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Okay so this a balance headcanon, and it is technically one I saw in a text post somewhere on tumblr that has been lost to the scroll of my dashboard months and months ago, but. The concept that the reason Barry was on the starblaster in the first place... was because he was some kinda undercover death cultist trying to kickstart the apocalypse... but then it happened and he was like "wait shit this actually sucks" and then has to figure out what to do

please consider donating to my ko-fi!

This was how it was written: Sildar Hallwinter would end the world.

Before his departure, they’d etched his name into the first of the sacred texts; his true name, five syllables destined to strike terror into the hearts of all living beings and their menial existences. It would all perish in the Apocalypse, of course. Everything would. But he and his fellows would ascend in death, as would every record that burned in the Great Blaze of the end times, and the universe would know their history. The true history. The history he would go down in as the Catalyst for the End of All Things, the Second Revelation, the Midnight Prophet for the Last Downfall of Mankind.

The gnome in front of him peered over the angular frames of his spectacles and said, “Barry Bluejeans?”

Sildar Hallwinter had also lost a bet.

But it was no matter, for there was no meager chronicle that would remember him as Barold J. Bluejeans, chief science officer of the IPRE Starblaster. He would be survived only by the destruction set to ravage their world in a matter of months, a Dawning so terrible that it would leave nothing of civilization in its wake. No one would know the name Barry Bluejeans. Everyone would know the name Sildar Hallwinter, and the thought made his stomach knot with such anticipation that he had to collect himself before he could respond.

“That’s me,” he said, and grinned a different man’s grin at the gnome—Captain Davenport of the IPRE, unknowing Chariot to the Catalyst for the End of All Things, the Second Revelation, the Midnight Prophet for the Last Downfall of Mankind. “Reporting for duty.”

Sildar was well accustomed to the dank, ash-streaked tunnels of the Fellowship’s headquarters beneath Ascendant’s Peak, but the IPRE headquarters were sleek and warm, drawing him in with rounded walls and high, arching ceilings. Everywhere he looked, another enormous set of windows opened to the landscape below, as of yet untouched by the Cataclysm Foretold. He wasn’t used to this much natural light, and he certainly wasn’t used to people smiling and waving as they passed. “Another poor soul for the Big One, Dav?” someone called, and the captain waved them off affably.

For an organization completely aware of the end times, and completely unaware of the fact that he, Sildar, would be responsible for their failure, they were all terribly… cheery.

“We’ve already gathered the other crew members,” said the captain, when they came to a halt in front of a nondescript door. “They’re just, uh, through here. We’ll start our first briefing in the next—next half hour, but for now, feel free to socialize. G-Get to know them. We’ll call you when we’re ready.”

“Thanks,” said Sildar, and the captain mumbled something under his breath. “Uh, what was that?”

“Oh,” said the captain. “Nothing.” He turned, and it was only then that Sildar’s brain registered the words; it had sounded almost like good luck.

No matter. Sildar opened the door.

“Incoming!”

Sildar yelped—actually yelped—and ducked aside just as a chair flew over his head and exploded against the wall. A shower of wooden fragments and very magical sparks hit the ground in front of him, and he sputtered, wordless, on the precipice of reaching for his own wand—was this an ambush? Had they discovered the truth of his presence already?

“Oh, shit,” somebody said, and a silhouette appeared through the smoke and magical residue. Sildar caught his breath. Perhaps he was dead, then; perhaps one of the wooden shards had caught him through the heart, and the Avatar of Renewal through Annihilation had come to meet him on the threshold of the afterlife. She looked like divinity, at any rate: tall and elegant, with waves of hair that glittered like finely spun gold and eyes that blazed with the last vestiges of power. Eyes that settled on him, and softened instantly. No, Sildar thought. She couldn’t possibly be the Avatar of Renewal, because she looked kind.

“Shit,” said the divine being again. Her ears twitched downward with concern—an elf, then. “Lucky break, babe. You okay?”

Sildar blinked, and found himself at a loss for words.

“Leave it to you to fuckin’ scare the shit outta the newcomer!” A voice like hers rose through the smoke, and as it cleared, Sildar made out four other bodies, all draped in the ostentatious red of the IPRE and squinting into the gloom. The one who had spoken, another willowy elf with even longer golden locks, lifted a hand in the air and snapped his fingers, and all the smoke dissipated at once. “You had to launch it at the fuckin’ wall, Mags!”

His companion, a human who stood taller than everyone else in the room and looked battle-scarred to the bone despite his youth, gestured indignantly at the aftermath. “But did you see how fucking awesome that was? And that was a whole science experiment! Setup—uh, hypothesis, trials, conclusion?”

“Which is?” The elf unspooled two letters into a long, drawn-out drawl.

“That this room was totally used for magic shit! And now we can do whatever we want in here!”

“Um,” came another voice from the window, and Sildar looked over to see a dark young woman with a head of platinum-bright hair, gazing nervously at the set of admittedly impressive scorch marks over his head. “I think if anything, that proves we shouldn’t do what we want in here.”

“Agree to disagree,” said “Mags,” with undue confidence.

“That’s—but that’s not what science is—”

The final figure in the room, a portly dwarf with flowers woven into his beard, shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Look at the impression you just made,” he said. “Going around, trying to kill people you just met—what kind of monsters do something like that?”

The divine being made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh and pushed a few loose strands of hair off her face. “You must be the chief science officer,” she said, and stuck out a hand. “Sorry for the accidental attempted murder. I’m Lup.”

Lup.

“I’m,” said Sildar. “Uh.”

This time she really did laugh—a lyrical, full-bodied sound that he felt deep in his chest. “Tell me we didn’t just knock your name outta your head.”

“Oh, no, it’s, uh—” Lup. She looked at him with a smile so resplendent he had to catch his breath all over again. What did she know of Sildar Hallwinter, the Catalyst for the End of All Things, the Second Revelation, the Midnight Prophet for the Last Downfall of Mankind? What did she know of anything beyond all the light she cast in every direction?

“I’m, uh, Barry,” he said. “Barry J. Bluejeans.”

Here are some things Sildar Hallwinter learns about Barry J. Bluejeans:

He has a penchant for getting into character. Maybe that’s more Sildar than Barry, but there’s something so intoxicating about the drama of it all, especially when no one else knows he’s playing a role. Barry is a bit of a thespian, if he does say so himself.

That said, he’s sort of awkward. More of Sildar’s influence. When you’ve spent your whole life preparing to fulfill your divine purpose in the End of All Things, it’s a little hard to adjust to things like game night and brunch.

He’s smart. Really smart. The Fellowship hadn’t really encouraged science—everything else came second to the teachings of the Apocalypse—but not only is Barry-slash-Sildar naturally inclined for it, he actually enjoys it.

He can’t swim. Sildar can, and rather enjoys it, but it’s a little bit of flavor text he can’t resist.

He’s not half bad at making friends.

The crew of the Starblaster were, of course, a means to an end, and he would develop no meaningful relationship with any of them beyond what was necessary to keep up appearances. That was his mandate, at least. But it was hard. Much harder than he’d expected, really. And despite himself, he—Barry—found it all to easy to laugh at the dwarf Merle’s gods-awful jokes and stay up late to hear Captain Davenport recount tales of grandeur. He let himself be roped into more magic-powered “experiments” (in the loosest sense of the word) with the human fighter, Magnus, who actually seemed to enjoy death-defying stunts with the zeal of someone from the Fellowship. He got to know the soft-spoken but brilliant archivist, Lucretia, and her remarkably meticulous transcriptions. On one particularly reckless night, he joined the long-haired elf Taako on a quest to fill a particularly uppity supervisor’s pockets full of pudding.

And as the Appointed Hour approached, Barry found himself spending late nights in the IPRE labs with Lup, testing and recording speculations on arcane theory and downing enough coffee to drive them to hysterics by dawn. They were all a little nervous, a little sad, a little desperate to sort their affairs before takeoff, but Lup tackled new problems with the kind of determination that demanded solutions. She was the most ingenious person Barry had ever met. And when she sat back from an arcane reaction gone wrong, her hairline blackened with soot and grinning like a caffeine-tripped maniac, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

This was how it was until the Apocalypse arrived.

Barry woke the morning of with a planet-shattering hangover.

He crawled to the mirror and squinted blearily into the glass; thanks to the IPRE’s constant offerings of complimentary coffee and cake and Taako’s singlehanded banquets, he’d put on weight over the last several months, and he’d started to love the gentle resilience his body had gained. Sildar was clean-shaven and angular, but Barry was soft and stubbly. A few nights before, Lup’s gaze had caught on his chin, and she’d told him how nice he looked with a five o’clock shadow.

He’d thought she was joking, but that was just how she was—kind.

He went to his closet and started to mull over which shirt to wear.

The day was dark and still, the sky an unbroken slate grey, and it was just what the sacred texts had imagined: not a living thing stirred for miles beyond the horizon. Even the grass beneath Barry’s feet, as he followed Davenport to the Starblaster’s gangway, had turned an off-color, metallic shade. They said their goodbyes to the Institute, and to the enormous crowd at starboard, and in the eerie light they all looked like corpses risen from the grave. There was something hanging over their heads that felt nothing like the terrible glory the Fellowship had promised; instead it was unsettled, and sickly, and wrong.

Barry swallowed the knot gathering rapidly in his throat and followed his crew up the gangway. There was but one thing left for him to do now—him, Sildar Hallwinter, the Catalyst for the End of All Things, the Second Revelation, the Midnight Prophet for the Last Downfall of Mankind. And then the Hour would be upon them at last.

He left the others on the bridge and walked to the Bond Engine.

The explosives tucked inside his robe were light, and branded with the sigil of the Fellowship, although no one would be able to tell in the ensuing destruction. It was certain to be localized, of course; they were meant to damage the engine and nothing more. He could never deprive himself—or anyone else, for that matter—the opportunity to witness the Terror as it began its First Assault on the world of the living. No one knew quite what it would look like, or how it would feel, but the Fellowship had promised a beautiful ascendancy for all its members. And now Sildar would seal his fate. He would seal everyone’s fate.

“Barold!”

Sildar fumbled an explosive, and it was almost the last thing he ever did. He whirled around, and there was Taako, waving him over from the bottom of the staircase. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” said Barry, faintly. “Why?”

“Cap’n’port wants everybody on the bridge for the launch.” He flapped his arm at the bridge, looming above them against a wall of indiscernible storm clouds. “C’mon!”

“Uh,” Barry said. Suddenly the explosives weighed too heavily in his robe. “In a sec!”

“He means now, Barry! This storm ain’t lookin’ too good!”

No, no, no. Not yet.

But I don’t want—

What does it matter what you want?

Sildar Hallwinter gripped the hem of his pocket.

And Barry Bluejeans whispered a disarming spell, followed by a shrinking charm. Three marbles branded with the sigil of the High Fellowship of the Great Prophecy for the First Revelation rattled in his pocket as he jogged toward Taako and the bridge.

They escaped by the skin of their teeth. Sildar Hallwinter watched his world consumed by a force so uncaring, so unfeeling, that it couldn’t possibly be the Herald of Rebirth for All Things. He watched it rip everything apart—the IPRE headquarters where he’d met his crew, the ice cream parlor he’d braved with Magnus and Lucretia, the farmer’s market where Taako had taught him the difference between parsley and basil, the enormous lake Davenport had taken them sailing on for a weekend, the small garden Merle had kept just outside their dorms.

The horizon, where he’d watched the sun set with Lup.

In the space between planes, Sildar Hallwinter was unmade. And when the threads of his body settled back into place, he caught his breath and thought, Never again.

This was how it was written: Barry J. Bluejeans would save the world.

#mirandatam #ask #the adventure zone #taz balance #ipre #barry bluejeans #fic #mine #GUESS WHO TRIPPED AND WROTE 2.2K #THANKS FOR THIS TRULY INCREDIBLE PROMPT

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mccoyquialisms · 4 years

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fic series: Jedi Shmi AU Series by MirandaTam (@mirandatam)

“What will you be, then?” Zannah asks.

It feels strange when Shmi speaks, as if it’s not quite her speaking, as if she’s not really speaking at all but echoing– “The helping hand,” she says. “The path-walker, she who rusts the chains. I will be erosion, and the flowing river, wearing away slowly but surely, until not only the one but the many are freed. I will be patience.”

#star wars #shmi skywalker #star wars au #jedi shmi skywalker #I'M....OBSESSED #I've re-read this like.......over 10 times it's kind of embarrassing #anyway this is my favorite star wars au and you all NEED to know about it #fic rec #fic series*#fanfic #mine #*#mirandatam

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absynthe--minded · 4 years

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37 with Celegorm and Celebrimbor, or 6 with Curufin and Aredhel?

(Consider #6 to be something of an AU - a ‘what if’ scenario, if Blessed Hands had gone slightly differently. Prompt me?)

37.

“Lie to me then.”

“All right,” Tyelkormo said, hopping up onto the table and fixing Tyelperinquar with a self-satisfied smirk. “Your father isn’t a murderer, and neither am I, and we’re all one happy family here in the happiest underground city on the hither shores.” When his nephew glared at him, he laughed. “You asked for a lie. I just bothered to make it a good one.”

Another glare, before Tyelperinquar turned his attention back to his hammer and chisel and the curling wood sconce he was carving.

“What,” Tyelkormo asked, “was that not good enough for you? Did you actually believe any of that horseshit?”

“Leave me alone, would you?”

“Why? You’re better company than your father, who insists I’m the cause of all his woes.”

“Even your dog thinks you’re a horrible person now,” Tyelperinquar muttered, driving the chisel deep into the wood with a heavy blow to its end. “Can’t you figure it out? We don’t want you here.”

“No, Tyelpë, you don’t want me here,” Tyelkormo said, bitterness creeping into his tone. “You’re the only one who hasn’t accepted that we’re damned.”

“I never took your Eru-forsaken Oath, did I?” the other nér asked. “It’s not me who’s damned, and if I’m lucky, it never will be.”

~*~

“You have to leave right now.”

“Oh, trust me,” Írissë said, “I know.” She glanced nervously over her shoulder, as if she expected someone else to appear out of the woods at any moment. She drew her cloak tight about her shoulders, and looked far more vulnerable than Curufinwë had ever known her to be before. “I only - I have to know the truth, Curvo, and I hope that you’ll at least be honest with me.”

“I’ll try,” he said, and he meant it. She unsettled him, in ways he was wholly unfamiliar with. None of her familiar bravado was present, and instead the nís before him looked like she might snap in half if she spoke too forcefully.

“Did - did Tyelkormo kill my brother?”

“What?” he asked, astonished. Of all the things she might have asked him, this was not what he anticipated.

“I - I said what I said. Findekáno has vanished. Did - do you think Tyelko might have - ?”

“Oh,” Curufinwë answered, all the air leaving his lungs at once. The ground rose and fell beneath him like waves. “I - you…”

“Be honest with me, if you know something,” she said. “Atya is frantic, though he won’t say it. After Arakáno died - !”

“Arakáno is dead?!”

“Slain by orcs, when we arrived.”

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked back tears that he could barely see in the moonlight. “You mean that, don’t you.”

“I do.”

“I don’t want to think it was him. I don’t. But he fled into the woods, and - !”

“And Tyelko spends every waking moment in them, I know.”

Írissë nodded. She looked as if she might collapse.

“I have to know,” she said. “If - if he killed Finno, I can’t - !”

“He didn’t,” Curufinwë answered. “At least, that’s my best guess.”

“What?” There was hope in her face suddenly - real hope, unlike anything he’d seen since before the Darkening. “You’re sure?”

“If he’d killed Findekáno, do you think he’d shut up about it for a moment?”

She did collapse then, clinging to her cloak.

“You’re right,” she said. “You’re right. I - he’s alive, then. He must be. But where did he go?”

#replies #mirandatam #silmarillion #ask meme #absynthe’s fanfiction

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