#'oh they were right to do the second and third kinslayings!! they were stolen from :(((((((' never mind how they didn't try to raise

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

the way fandom woobification of the fëanorians + the victim-blaming of their victims has turned them into damn near my least favorite characters in the silm when they used to be my favorite... sure is something

[magpiecaranthir]

In the Tinwe captured early verse, her not feeling well before the second kinslaying so her and Caranthir staying back and both of them living instead of Caranthir dying.

Oh god yes. I want Caranthir to survive so badly bc tinwe deserves good things after going through so much shit.

On the other hand, here is a little draft I wrote when I couldnt sleep a few nights back lol. Like what would happen if he did not survive for whatever reason :)

Ranyatinwë dismounted. Her mount pawned the ground and she took some steps towards the camp.

Upon her and her brothers' arrival, the guards stood at attention, hands at their weapons and ready for attack.

She gave them a bored look. "You could not even draw your sword before I have you choking on your own blood," she said icily. "Where is the white-livered coward that led you here?"

She was met with silence.

Scoffing she took a few more steps forward.

The flap of a tent opened and out walked Arafinwe and Eonwe who had been in deep discussion about how to progress from this moment henceforth.

Arafinwe stopped when he saw Ranyatinwe, armed and armoured. "What a lovely surprise," he said mildly.

She looked at him. "I would rather hear it from someone whose family was not at the forefront of saying I would not see my majority and my masteries being a waste of resources because I would walk into Lórien before long."

Her eyes fell to Eonwe. She held out a hand. "The Silmarilli, if you please."

The maia looked at her. "As known to your kin, your right to the Silmarilli is void. They shall go to the West now from whence their light came."

"I have suffered for these jewels for five hundred and seventy years at the very hands and whims of your brethren while you brought your master tea and bread. Only to then lose my twin to the svum of doriath, too. To those who kissed an ainu's feet. Your kin did this. You cannot claim innocence either. Do you sleep well knowing you could have prevented it? Or do you wonder how much you could get away with? With being Manwë's herald I wager you could take a whip to my back like Sauron has done often and none would bat an eye."

Eönwe's face twisted into one of wrath and the air around them seemed to crackle with tension.

Behind them, her horse snuffed and threw its head.

She gave the maia a bored look. "You need to look like a Valarauka to scare me. Try again, perhaps with a flaming whip. Having had to fight them for entertainment leaves you quite devoid of respect for the likes of the Ainu."

She wiggled her fingers. "The Silmarilli. I will not ask a third time, seeing as you will never give me the third Silmaril either."

Upon being met with stoic silence, she giggled. "Very well. We shall be going. Would you like the twerps' heads on one pike or on separate ones?"

That recieved a reaction.

The peredhil gasped and squeaked "what" where they were seated on their own mounts beside Maedhros and Maglor.

Several guards gripped their weapons and Eonwe's face turned more wrathful.

"You will not harm them."

Ranyatinwe giggled. "The only reason I have not killed them and finally ended the Line of the egoistic manics Lúthien and Beren is that they were counted amongst children. As of a few months ago, they are counted amongst the adults. I do not murder children, but I murder adults. You will be finding their remains somewhere."

She turned and walked back to her mount.

"No," said Eonwë.

Stopping, she looked over her shoulder. "I will be getting the Silmarilli, then," she said boredly. "My fathers stolen jewels in exchange for the stolen boys. Until then they are ours to keep and mine to kill."