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pacifymebby · 1 year ago

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t r o u b l e // chapter six

A peaky blinders modern au balletcore story

Chapter List

Sonya

I lay awake listening to the quiet which remained after Ada had soothed little Karl and set him down to sleep. I knew she wouldn't be sleeping, I knew she'd be somewhere in her wing of the house, growing more agitated by the second. Sitting with her rage and stewing. She would feel just as we did, caged. Helpless to do anything and yet desperate to get as far away from this place as she could. From the evil world our brothers moved in.

I'd been trying not to think about what I would have been doing had I been at home in the flat I shared with Sylvie. It was 4:30am and I'd have been in the shower, fighting off sleep, thinking about the short tube journey into school. Rerunning the steps I'd been trying my best to get to know so well that I no longer had to think. Only had to relax into them and move as if strings were tied to my head, my wrists and my feet.

.I'd been trying not to ask what was going to happen when I didn't show for class, when I didn't show for my rehearsals later that day, but it was difficult not to because in that moment I felt like my whole life was caught on a precipice. Tommy was about to push me off.

In the end I gave up trying to sleep.

The sun was rising somewhere beyond the peaks and my body clock was so atuned to early rising that I saw no point in trying to change in now.

The house was silent, the family finally settled. Whatever disputes had been quietly raging all night were waiting now for the morning when Tommy and Ada would no doubt clash again.

It was much bigger than I'd noticed the night before when John had brought us straight to Tommy's study and then lead us straight to our room, but now that I was treading lightfoot down the hallways slender carpet past numerous doors I was beginning to realise that my brother was far richer than even I could have imagined. It was no secret of course, I'd always known that our family were much better off than we'd been when we were living in that tiny flat in poverty stricken watery lane. It had been obvious that my brothers had social climbed further than any of us could imagine when their names began to circulate the tabloids. When people had started filming Sylvie and I every time my brothers schemes made the news.

But this was a different kind of wealth.

Our "cottage" conversion in the country was palacial and beneath the quaint thatched roof there was money in every vintage church pew, painting and statue that lined the hall.

I trailed my fingers down the banister as I descended the stairs taking each step at a time, still a little sleepy and now hazy in awe of the house I found myself in, knowing that it belonged tp our family. My brothers had been born in a caravan on some trashed car park, but now they owned houses like this and I understood why it was known as Shelby Manor.

I wasn't really looking for anything in particular, simply hoping to get to know my new "home" whilst there was nobody else around. Whilst it felt empty and I had free reign over the halls, rooms and hopefully, the little nooks and hideyholes I would be able to escape to later when everyone else was at one anothers throats.

So, when I slipped through another doorway to find a darker, thinner hallway, the floor of which was made of stone rather than the polished hardwood in the majority of the house, my curiosity was piqued. Not least by the cool draft which hot hit my cheeks gently, it had that earthy damp smell that reminded me of exploring woodland with my sister when we were smaller. So I stepped through the door, gasping though I should have expected how the stone was cold against my bare feet.

It was dark but not pitch black, small fire safety lights making a path along the cieling that I could follow, one hand always trailing the cool stone wall. It felt as though I had stumbled across a secret passage in an old mannor house, the kind of tunnel that should lead out to Narnia or somewhere similar.

I wouldn't have been completely surprised if it had been a secret passageway, an escape tunnel that lead out of the house. That was the kind of thing our Tommy was probably into these days. Still, if it was supposed to be secret it wasn't exactly well hidden, the door left open as if it had wanted to be found.

It didn't occur to me that it had been left open on purpose, though had I though perhaps had I known my brother a little better I'd have worked that out when I reached the exit. A door which opened out into an overgrown garden, long dry grass grown up to my waist, the pollen brushing off on my pyjama shorts as I stepped outside.

The ground was dry and crumbly and as i stepped I felt pieces of snapped grass between my toes. But I wasn't the first to walk through the field that summer because there was a well trodden path already there for me to follow and as I did I realised that I wasn't in anybodys garden at all.

I was at the edge of the manor grounds, where the river which ran the perimeter of the Shelby land opened out into the mouth of a lake which stretched wide and early morning orange sparkling in the sunrise.

I remembered my brother telling me about it once, in one of our brief conversations. Not long after he'd bought the old farmhouse and begun converting it. He'd told me he was going to clear the lake for me so that I could go swimming in it like the lake our mother had taken us to when we were tiny children and she was still alive.

I couldn't help but smile as I lowered myself to crouch on the bank and peer down at the water curiously. He'd done as he'd promised. Perhaps the only promise he'd ever made to me that he'd kept. The water was clean and clear but for the reeds which broke the surface and whispered all wind in the willows peaceful. Daydreamy and alluring.

And so I couldn't resist. Slipping out of my tshirt and shorts into only my underwear, shuffling along and then down the little slope to dip my feet and ankles into the cool water. And it was cold, not icy but cool enough to shiver up my spine and draw a little gasp from me when the water lapped up around my waist. Still it was a good kind of shiver, a good kind of cold and, as I pushed off away from the bank I felt my body cut through the water gracefully, the water swallowing me up to my neck, my legs moving slowly as I kicked and swam smoothly. As I swam I felt the tension of the night before ease a little, washed away by the cool water and the sunlight which dappled and glimmered in warm shades.

I cut a slow moving stroke through the middle of the lake and when I was out far enough away from the bank that I felt a pleasant sense of isolation, I turned onto my back and let myself float, looking up at the clouds in the whispy sky. It was then that I let myself close my eyes, a soft smile on my lips as the water held me and I felt, for the first time in a little while, truly at peace. Truly free. And even though I knew that freedom and peace couldn't last long at all, I was happy to hold onto it and treasure it then for the little time I had been given.

That was until I heard movement somewhere on the bank behind me. My ears prickled at the sound of a foot scuffing at the side of a rock. Shoes being kicked off. The clunk of something heavy hitting the floor.

I jumped, startled, spinning round with a snap, my eyes wide when I saw a lad, shirtless, standing at the edge of the bank, apparently oblivious to me.

At least he had been, and I'd have preferred it to stay that way, until my startled splash had drawn his attention to me.

Now he stood watching me, just far enough that I couldn't read his expression, couldn't make out the colour of his eyes or their truthfulness.

I hovered in the water, a little shaken. Remembering why my brother had brought us back to the manor in the firstplace. Remembering that the outside world was dangerous now, that strangers were enemies as far as anyone sensible was concerned.

So i watched him cautiously and when he raised his hand in a slow wave I didn't return it.

And when he called out across the water to me I didn't reply straight away.

"Hello?" he called out to me, his hand still hovering by his dark curls.

I didn't call back, watching him hesitantly because although he didn't seem hostile he wasn't wearing a peaky cap and I didn't recognise him as anyone Tommy kept close.

And when I didn't respond he lowered his hand and without any warning at all he launched himself into the water in an elegant dive, his body swallowed whole by the water, the white splash frothing and bubbling as he disappeared below the surface.

I froze. Watching the bubbles as he cut through the water and burst through the surface. His slender frame cutting towards me at a much faster speed than I could have managed. Even if I was a quick swimmer, he moved like a fish, his body lithe but strong and powerful and I knew that if he was intent on catching up to me he would.

So i remained still, knowing that if something happened to me out here my brothers would only be angry I'd been out here on my own. That even Ada and Sylvie would want to know why the hell I hadn't put up a fight.

But when he slowed and stopped, treading water about a meter from me he was smirking, the kind of boyish smile worn by a harmless teenager.

"I don't think you heard me before..." he said, his cocky smirk getting under my skin a little as he trod water before me, his eyes flickering over my face and my shoulders, the little of me above water level. "I said hello."

When still I didn't say a word, only held his gaze coldly, stubborn not to show my nerves, he spoke again, still trying to be cheeky, still with a confidence I was sure he didn't deserve. "You're in my lake you know..." he added a little quieter, his smirk undeterred by my unamused pout.

"You're not a Shelby," I said as coldly as I could, my words causing a soft chuckle to ripple from him though I could see in his eyes that I'd caught him off guard.

"So?"

"So its not your lake." I said swimming backwards towards the edge of the lake, watching him watching me. I wasn't rushing, I wasn't "fleeing" but I was pushing quickly through the water, my heart beginning to race when he swam to catch up.

"You seem pretty sure about that for a lass who's never set foot on this riverbank before today..." he called after me, stopping at the bank a second after I did with a smile that would have been contagious had I not been so determined to be as Sylvie would have been had she been caught out like this.

When still I didn't relent he shook his head, half a laugh down towards the water as he leant on the grassy bank with his elbows. He ran his hand through his wet hair and left it sticking up a little scruffy, droplets trailing down his arm and splashing off the water onto me. "What if I told you I had Thomas Shelbys blessing?" he asked, teasing me his eyes twinkling with sarcasm, "would that put your conscience at ease miss?"

The whole time he'd been talking I'd been trying to place his accent. Almost Irish but not quite, familiar to me but only distantly. A part of my past hardly recognisable now.

"You're gypsy..."

"Don't think you're allowed to call me that anymore lass, ain't the 1920s anymore now is it..." he grinned, a caught out grin, a slight pinkish hue in his cheeks, "an I'd think you'd be a wee but more concerned about that an all if you're who I think you are..."

"Gypsy, traveller, romani... Its all the same to me," I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could, knowing that if Ada or Aunt Pol had heard me they'd be furious. That even Tommy and my brothers who still used that word whenever they wanted to put someone else in their place, would have scorned to hear me say that.

"Well," he said, lowering his voice a little, still softly spoken, still teasing, "well now I know you're lying to me Miss Shelby..." he said leaning in a little closer, knowing eyes glowing so that although he didn't look humbled, still looked as though he believed himself to have the upper hand - and he did have the upper hand - he looked a little softer. Enough to ease my fears a little. The knowledge that we were more alike than I'd anticipated putting me at ease, because there wasn't a travelling family in the whole of the midlands who didn't answer to my brother these days.

"You know I'm a Shelby?" I asked edging towards the grass myself about to push myself up onto the bank until I remembered that I was only in my underwear, that my pyjama shorts and tshirt had been abandoned somewhere the other side of the lake.

When he laughed I couldn't tell if he was teasing still or really just laughing at me. My apparent naivety.

"Aye little lass, reckon I know which Shelby you are an all..."

I held his gaze despite myself then, doing my best to remain cold and stubborn, doing my best not to reveal how vulnerable I felt. But my cheeks were heating up, an indignant blush revealing me completely.

"You can't possibly, we've never met."

"You're Sonya," he shrugged pushing himself up onto the verge, looking down at me, his legs still in the water, kicking them gently too relaxed for someone who should have been at least a little wary of a Shelby girl. Then again, he knew exactly which Shelby girl he was talking to, and if there was a Shelby lass not worth fearing I knew it was me.

"Eh don't look so sad," he flashed me another smile, one which riled my temper because I didn't like being teased by strangers who should have feared me. I wasn't used to it either.

In London people had feared me for a collection of reasons, some for my family, most for mt reputation. I was one of, if not the, most talented ballerina of my age. One not to be sniffed at. Someone to gaze at in awe. To be grateful to have met.

"That was just a lucky guess..." I said eyeing him suspiciously.

"Was it yeah?"

"Yes." I said finally, narrowing my eyes at him before backing away, "so, you know who my brother is, close your eyes if you know whats good for you."

I wasn't expecting him to do as I'd said but he did, quickly too. His hand shot up to cover his eyes and he made a point of turning away, laughing at me with a smile that lingered.

"Well I'll be seein yous Sonya," he said his voice light as ever, still teasing, still laughing. Too comfortable. Almost infuriating me so that I couldn't reply, could only hurry back to the trodden in path I'd followed, grabbing my clothes and scarpering as if it really had been me trespassing after all.

Next Chapter

#Trouble #peaky blinders imagines #bonnie gold x reader #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders fanfiction

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child-of-hurin · 7 years ago

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PLEASE TELL ME MORE ABOUT THIS DARK AU

Took me ten thousand years to reply to this because I wanted to DRAW THINGS about it and I didn’t!!! But I’m in a dark au mood tonite so I typed out my ideas for the

Dark Narn AU

Motivation: I wanted Túrin and Nienor to get buddy buddy with Gothmog and Glaurung…. Literally my motivation for this lmao sorry I just. Monster buddies. It all was inspired by [this drawing] of @nyolofinwe’s where for a split second I thought Túrin was cuddling Gothmog (actually it’s Túrin killing Morgoth lmao!!! Im a dumbass. No regrets tho).

Disclaimer:

1. UGLY things here, it’s fine if you hate it, also you might block “dark narn au” in advance if you want;

2. Also it is my headcanon and understanding that there were mortal slaves in Angband as well as elves.

What I came up with was:

When Húrin and Huor are cornered by orcs in Brethil, they are in a bad spot for pick up, so Húrin stays behind to hold the orcs while Huor runs up the hill. Huor would never have left his brother behind, but it’s a mess and he doesn’t realize what happened until he’s being carried away and screaming his lungs out for Húrin, who’s captured by orcs and taken captive to Angband.

There he undergoes some brainwashing by Melkor, who, true to the essence of the Narn, sees he can profit more from corruption than from killing this agent. By this point Húrin is a teen and hasn’t met Turgon yet, so he breaks eventually and becomes Melkor’s champion.

We have Húrin, and now we need Morwen. To keep the chronology, I prefer having her be captured during a raid on Emeldir’s group of refugees; that can also have Rian either being captured as well, or escaping on and following canon and marrying Huor, which I prefer for this AU (also casts a shadow on them as… replacements for the true heir, sort of! Both having dear family members captured by Morgoth). Either after brainwashing is complete, or during it, she is given to Húrin: a true prize, the heir of the House of Bëor, etc. Túrin is born in 464.

Lalaith is born two years later, which is a weird year because that’s when B and L steal one of Melkor’s silm iirc! Angband has never been more somber, but there is talk of hope among the slaves, of which Morwen hears some, as well as the name of Beren her kinsmen. Húrin, who has developed genuine affection and trust in her, mentions in bed at some point that Beren was killed by carcharoth and that despite the loss of the Silmaril, Melkor is somewhat satisfied that the whole ordeal ended up dividing the kingdoms further apart, and confides in her about some of the plans for the following war (Unnumbered Tears).

The very next day, Morwen kills Lalaith. She knows how other female thralls fare and she knows that as soon as Húrin is dead Melkor would have no more use for them. Better dead than a thrall.

This sends Húrin into a rage out of despair bc he really dotes on Lalaith no matter the AU, and it also hits Túrin pretty hard, he adored his sister. Melkor ofc enjoys the opportunity to turn Húrin even more towards him, and encourages him to get another child from Morwen to make up for the one he lost. I think Morwen was about to end her own life too, or maybe end Túrin’s, but they caught her before she did any more.

In this AU Nienor is conceived (at least) nine months before the Unnumbered and not nine months later. During all the pregnancy she is watched, to make sure she won’t cause an abortion. Morwen names her Nienor, lamentation, and instead of offended, Húrin laughs and says it’s an appropriate name for a warrior that shall bring woe to her foes, who will lament upon seeing her. Morwen is forbid to be alone with Nienor and they are closely watched; as a result, they aren’t very close in this hc, as opposed to canon.

Both Túrin and Nienor have strong mommy issues. Túrin visits Morwen and they have a very similar temper. Nienor loves Túrin but confronts him when she learns he visits Morwen; also I think she sees Morwen in Túrin a little, too, because they’re so similar.

I like the idea of Húrin heading the fight against mortals and him and Huor meeting on the battlefield, and killing each other.

Túrin is crazy about Nienor, though you wouldn’t guess it by looking. There’s a lot of sexual tension that they probably don’t even realize they have. When they’re together there’s a feeling like there isn’t space for anyone else - though Morwen is an always felt presence an the only crack in their bond. Túrin is stoic and reserved and his canon obsession with fighting Melkor is changed into a type of family pride. Right now I think he’s really mad that Dor-Lómin was given to the Easterlings and he thinks a great victory might convince Morgoth to give those lands back to him and Nienor? Though I also like the idea of him snooping around and trying to find Nargothrond or Doriath.

In this AU Túrin (and Húrin before he dies) is buddies with Gothmog who is sort of a mentor to him, and Nienor has a great friendship with Glaurung, whom she rides on sometimes, maybe into battle.

I had considered the idea of either Túrin or Nienor meeting Gwindor by accident on the woods and goading him and fooling him, following him until they got the path to Nargothrond, while the other sibling followed them from afar. One sibling goes into the town and the other comes with the army down on them, no need for bridges I guess. Or the bridge can be deliberate sabotage. Since I like Nienor riding Glaurung, it can be Túrin who goes in, as in canon - OTOH idk how good Túrin can be with deception no matter the AU, so maybe it is Nienor, though, really, is she any better? Also would she have a voice in council? Maybe if she got Gwindor’s ear somehow… idk, thoughts

Finduilas is captured and not killed, though I’m not sure how much better this is. Maybe both Túrin and Nienor take her for consort in an incesty-non-incesty weird triangle dance.

I haven’t thought ahead of this yet, that’s all I have! They need to have a cool and tragic ending, though I’m still unsure how. I feel like they need to fall with Brethil, but then I’m unsure what happens. Also I really don’t want Túrin and Nienor to have a falling out, it’s not my thing. I feel like they need to die together.

Things to consider:

Tuor and Aerin as kin who are held captive. Do T and N know they exist and are there? If they do, how do they react?

Morwen + other mortal thralls, or maybe Morwen + having ELVISH thralls to serve her, which Melkor does to show Húrin how much he honors him bla bla

Húrin and Gothmog banter, Gothmog warming up to the mortal once he sees him being an absolute savage in battle

Gurthang???? I mean, we NEED it. Also something for Nienor!! Maeglin fans will kill me but uuuhhh imagine if the twins had anglachel and anguirel… #goals

Beleg?? Mablung?? Everyone else?

#the children of húrin #húrin #nienor #morwen #túrin #vardasvapors #dark narn au

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ddagent · 2 years ago

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Any AU just make it horny lol

November Promptathon | I love prompts; prompt me all the things!

This was meant to be 250 words of crack. Its over a 1000 of UST.

“Ambassador Mollari, you were supposed to meet Ambassador Delenn and myself in chambers an hour ago.”

Londo waved a hand in John’s direction; his beady gaze fixated upon the stage and the blonde dancer removing the first of several layers of clothing. “My dear Captain Sheridan, do not concern yourself with such things. Delenn will surely wait.”

John sighed. “Not today, Londo.”

The look on Ambassador Mollari’s face as Delenn took the empty seat beside him was a picture to behold. John wished he could take a pic of it and send it to G’Kar. Not that Delenn’s face was much better: when he’d informed the Minbari Ambassador that Londo was at the Dark Star, she had insisted on accompanying him to best aid negotiations between the Narn and the Centauri. Perhaps she’d thought it was just another Human bar. Perhaps she had just wanted to spend time with him (a thought John desperately hoped was true). Either way, the representative to Minbar was currently sandwiched between Londo and himself in a strip club, her hooded visage betraying her beautifully green eyes blown wide.

Continue Reading at AO3

#john x delenn #babylon 5 #b5fic #dd: prompts #ship: john x delenn

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redbootsindoriath · 4 years ago

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So I drew this before I read Narn i Chîn Húrin and it was for an AU where Gurthang started talking much earlier in the story, specifically in Nargothrond, and it was like a totally normal thing for Túrin to have his sword just start trash talking him at any given moment.

Turns out that was canon. “...and often that blade leapt in his hand of its own lust, and it is said that at times it spake dark words to him.” Yeah that’s in Nargothrond. At times, plural. Gurthang apparently talked more than just that one time, so now this joke is practically canon, I don’t make the rules.

Transcription:

[Gurthang:] “Wow, you kinda dominated the conversation in the council back there, didn’t you?” [Túrin:] “That’s enough of your lip. I have enough to think about as it is without you disrespecting me.” [Gurthang:] “Disrespect, huh? That’s pretty bold words coming from you. Do you even remember who actually rules Nargothrond?” [Túrin:] “Okay you know what? What if you just shut up? I know you don’t know what that means but you should try it sometime.” [Túrin:] “...... I said it first. ........ No, you.” [Elf 1:] “You know, sometimes I worry about Mormegil.” [Elf 2:] “Who doesn’t?”

#anglachel/gurthang #túrin #the man the myth the legends #three shinies #everyone deserved better except mîm #my trash #is this actually funny or am i just tired #i'm sorry professor tolkien #past tarva speaks #/end classification tags #aaaand just like that we're back to the regular queue #children of húrin stuff again for you today of course #by the way #there are a zillion WONDERFUL details in the narn #i am SO glad i finally was able to read it #i'd been looking for it for like three years

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kareenvorbarra · 3 years ago

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could I ask about when winter comes without a spring and the turin and tuor AU?

(by the way I love your Narn/Silm commentary and writing, you have such great ideas!)

-@outofangband

Thanks! Both the stories you picked are Narn related, actually :) I'll talk about them in separate posts because the excerpts I'm posting are fairly long, and I want all the commentary to be above the read more.

When Winter Comes Without a Spring is a rewrite of a fic that I posted ages and ages ago and then took down because my Aerin headcanons changed so drastically that I felt like I had to redo it completely. Juliana did draw some art back in the day based on the old version of the fic, which you can find here.

The story is about one of the times Aerin visited Morwen after the conquest of Dor-lomin. It's pretty early in the Narn timeline (Nienor's about three years old), and it's just a quiet missing scene with the three of them interacting. Aerin and Morwen discuss Aerin's situation and her marriage to Brodda. Morwen tries to talk Aerin out of coming to visit because she's putting herself in danger, but Aerin is too stubborn to be convinced, and she knows that Morwen's household would be much worse off without the little she can provide.

Honestly this is one I really should have finished - it's almost done, I've said pretty much all I wanted to say, I just haven't been able to end it.

The first 500 words or so are included below:

The sound of footsteps approaching the door made Morwen abandon the shirt she was mending. She gathered up Niënor and set her on a bed in one of the back rooms, with her favorite rag doll to keep her quiet. Then she grabbed the old axe that hung on the wall in the kitchen. It was ill-suited for anything other than chopping wood, but Brodda’s men had taken everything else that resembled a weapon.

Someone tapped quietly on the door: three knocks, a pause, and then three more. With a small sigh of relief, Morwen returned the axe to the wall and went to answer it. She hadn’t really expected anybody else - if the Incomers meant to capture her they would have done it long ago - but there was no point in taking chances.

Aerin slipped inside as soon as the door had opened far enough to admit her. She wore a dark shawl over her head, concealing her shining hair, and carried a large cloth-covered basket.

“Ragnir let me in at the gate,” she said, embracing Morwen briefly by way of greeting. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. Brodda keeps me at his side when he is at home, but this morning he rode north to report to Lorgan.”

She handed Morwen the basket. “Flour, dried meat, and some vegetables. I even managed to put by a jar of jam.”

“You are not to take any unnecessary risks,” Morwen told her sternly. “It’s bad enough that you come out here at all. If they catch you...”

“They’ll take me back to the hall, and when Brodda returns they’ll report to him and he will beat me,” Aerin said matter-of-factly, slipping off her shawl and hanging it over the back of a chair. “Nothing I haven’t borne before.”

Morwen pressed her lips together in disapproval, but said nothing. As much as she hated letting the girl put herself in danger on their account, the five people that remained in Húrin’s once-great household would not survive without Aerin’s help. The adults made sure that little Niënor never went hungry, giving up food of their own if they had to, but even that would become more difficult as Niënor grew.

She heard soft footfalls behind her, and a small blonde child appeared in the doorway of the next room, clutching her doll. The lure of Aerin’s familiar voice had drawn Niënor out of hiding despite her mother’s orders, and as soon as she saw their visitor, her face broke into a smile.

“Aerin!” she shrieked, dropping the doll and rushing forward on her short legs, holding out her arms to be picked up. Laughing, the young woman swooped down on Niënor and hoisted her up to rest on her hip.

#aerin #morwen #nienor #meme response #my fic #silmarillion

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oakwyrm · 6 years ago

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Wing AU ft. a more-human Narn AU as well because why not.

This is for day two of polyamuary2019 over on @polyshipprompts

[Image description: A digital drawing of Narn, Colvin, and Kyr from Thrilling Intent. Narn is drawn as a dark-skinned human with dreadlocks and only one arm instead of in their canon design. They also have folded bug-like wings, while Colvin sports wings resembling a barn owl and Kyr a magpie. Colvin is pulling the other two in with his wings while Narn has their hand on Colvin's head.]

#polyamuary2019 #Thrilling Intent #kyrvin #nolvin #Kyr Fiore #Athos Colvin Jun #Narn #ti narn #artists on tumblr #digital art #oak's art #Colvin draws Strong datemates like a magnet you will not convince me otherwise

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thalions-reference-collection · 3 years ago

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things that remind me of the headcanons dark fic I write on @outofangband as well as just general associations with Silm/Narn

Some partial nudity and injuries in the Angband tags

storylines/verses

chained and set in slow torment: hurin in angband canon verse

cut your hand as willingly: morwen in hithlum post Nirnaeth

another one of us was found dead: morwen in hithlum pre nirnaeth (extra warning for past child abuse)

to melko’s power and pleasure: tulkas and melkor’s rivalry largely pre melkor’s first imprisonment

for nigh a year they dwelt: dark gondolin au (extra warning for child abuse)

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outofangband · 2 years ago

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Ok I apologize in advance for this ramble because it is primarily about Morwen and Niënor with just some about Tuor and a lot about my fixation with well, you know, that aspect of Morwen’s life and reputation

Mentions of implied abuse ahead (under a cut just because it gets long though)

I’ve always found it very alarming that Lorgan, after failing to get Niënor, has her cousin of the same age who looks so much like her

I also wonder a lot how Morwen found this out, perhaps from Aerin although it might have been sent as a direct threat or demand in which case of course it failed.

(Incidentally I am legally obligated to wonder what Lorgan thought of Morwen herself. I remember joking with @elwing about his getting a terrified report from his men that they couldn’t ransack Morwen’s house because she’s so scary or, as is more likely, hearing another excuse about it.

As I said before, he clearly failed in threatening her with Niënor as she just…left. Unless of course that was the objective, to drive her out for good which I suppose would also make sense)

I had the thought that Tuor only knew of Morwen vaguely from his captors (or other slaves) and would have been disappointed to learn that she didn’t actually have any otherworldly powers (I doubt he heard of her often and when he did it might not have been by name and he might not have known of their kinship at all. Just that there was a woman who had been married to the last Hadorian lord, the thrall-folk as they’re now called, who was feared and hated and who they called a witch or, as we know, Witchwife or elf-friend) (link for my own organization)

Lorgan my beloathed..

something to explore in dark aus, I suppose

I know the BoLT version of the Narn doesn’t have him in it, only Brodda with a different backstory but my BoLT inspired version of him is that he was originally from Hithlum but left for a few decades and fell into league with Melkor (which as I say there is less problematic in the meta sense but potentially even more disturbing on other levels)

I have a post about the BoLT differences later but I won’t derail your post further op! I’m so sorry for this ramble

Is it canon Lorgan wanted Niënor? Do you know where it says?

No, it is not Canon. It is one of the early versions of the stories.

#the silmarillion #Niënor #Tuor #Lorgan #Morwen #the children of húrin #musing and meta #cw abuse #the hidden hours #word ran among them

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ncfan-1 · 8 years ago

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2016 Fic Retrospective

Well, this was the year that fun forgot, but I did manage to do something.

Total Number of Completed Stories: 54. 53 of them are done, and 1 is still ongoing.

Total Word Count: 300, 285.

Fandoms Written In: Natsume Yuujinchou, Star Wars, Star Wars: Shattered Empire, Lolita, Silmarillion, Chronicles of Narnia, Star Wars: KOTOR II, Naruto, The Mariner’s Wife (This doesn’t really fit with the Silmarillion or Lord of the Rings, so I’ll give it its own category), Lord of the Rings, The Children of Húrin, Howl’s Moving Castle, Berserk, Umineko no naku koro ni.

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted? I actually wrote about as much as I expected to this year, even if I had a hard time summoning the energy to write after July.

What’s your own favorite story of the year? And just as with last year, I really wrote too much to just pick one, so how about a top five?

1. Stands Between: I loved writing this one so much. Writing fix-it fic for the Narn was so cathartic.

2. Who is the third?: Even if it’s not really canon-compliant anymore, I still liked writing this one.

3. the pebble said to the mountain: I’d had this fic idea in my mind for a little over a year before I actually got it written. I just wanted to write Jiraiya-Ame Trio fic focusing on food, and the story grew in the telling.

4. what night lays bare: This was the fic I wrote to get back in the groove of writing Silm fics. I’ve shipped one-sided Finrod/Andreth for a while, and this was the first time I actually wrote for that.

5. Light in Shadow: Fíriel of Númenor is one of those characters who didn’t make it into the final draft of the Akallabêth. I tweaked her age; whereas in the version of the Akallabêth where she appears, she seems to be around Isildur’s age, here she is a young child in the last years of Númenor. I’d never actually seen fic of her before (though it looks like a couple more have been written since I wrote this piece), and it was fun writing about her.

Did you take any writing risks this year? Honestly, unless you can call writing fics about minor characters very few people care about ‘risks’, not really.

Do you have any fanfic or ofic goals for the New Year? Well, asides from finishing the fic I’m working on right now (which I had intended to finish before 2016 was over, but demoralization happened and I’m writing at a crawl), I’ve got a Rogue One fic idea for exploring Jyn’s time with Saw. I’ve also an idea for a series of AU ficlets for the Silmarillion, which I’m not sure are going to gain traction very much since they involve a pairing you don’t see pretty much anywhere.

My best story of this year: It’s hard to say. Maybe The Human Condition, since I probably put the most work into it of any of them.

My most popular story of this year: Different Placements, which was surprising, seeing as I didn’t expect it to get that much attention.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe: I was kind of sad that Subversion and Light in Shadow didn’t get more attention. There’s so little Inzilbêth fic on AO3 that I’d thought the former would get more attention than it did.

Most fun story to write: liminal space. I really liked giving all those really viscerally unattractive setting details.

Story with the single sexiest moment: Once again, may I refer you to the fact that I am an awkward ace?

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: Stands Between changed the way I look at Maeglin, once I realized he was basically the Túrin to Turgon’s Orodreth.

Hardest story to write: Sacred Ground, probably. Don’t get me wrong; I’d been wanting to write more Arien/Elenwë fic for a while, and like the pebble said to the mountain, I’d had this idea in my head for a long time. But I’d imagined things going a bit further between the two of them, and while I can imagine sex, I sort of freeze up as regards to actually writing it, even in non-explicit terms. (The only reason I managed to write oblique sex in thing of darkness is because it was so alien to the human experience of sex).

Biggest Disappointment: Forgotten didn’t come out nearly as well as I would have liked. I don’t know, maybe it’s because Faniel only shows up in early versions of the Silm and we know pretty much nothing about her, but I couldn’t get a firm grasp on her character.

Biggest Surprise: working to fit the mold. One-sided Kyrie/Asumu hate-shipping is… not a thing I ever expected to write before 2016. Hell, it’s not a thing I ever expected to write before December of 2016. Hate-shipping in general is not usually my cup of tea. Like, at all. But I wrote it, and I think I might write it again in the future. And maybe it won’t be one-sided next time, either!

#Fanfic #Writing #Fic retrospective

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outofangband · 2 years ago

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very informal thoughts on the more mundane villains I write (Avranc, Brodda and Lorgan)

mentions of bad stuff from canon ahead

anon who wanted to see this, I hope you do! I’m also going to go back to it tomorrow and finish any edits and additions as I can’t from mobile right now...

third and last time I’m reposting this. apparently Tumblr is once again doing the thing where it doesn’t let you edit things under a cut on mobile

Avranc

mundane evil at its finest. Bureaucratic, petty, and callous. Depraved indifference is the term I used in my recent meta about The Wanderings of Húrin and it’s the most accurate thing I can say about him. He’s well aware that he’s living in a nigh apocalyptic world and he’ll mistreat or even kill anyone he thinks has earned it.

His cruelty towards completely traumatized Húrin and callousness about Morwen’s death was surprisingly disturbing to me when I first read The Wanderings and it’s stuck with me ever since

Brodda:

I really hate this man! I’m not normal about it, either. If you’ve ever mentioned disliking him even in tags or comments you might have dealt with my overexcited responses. Sorry in advance/in retrospect. It will probably happen again.

Technically in my published stories he’s only in a few but he features heavily in unpublished stories of mine too. The scene where Morwen scares him away by looking is simultaneously one of the scariest and most amusing scenes in the entire book for me.

In one of those published stories Aerin says that his best quality is his long periods of absence and the kindest thing he does is ignoring her. That’s the highest character endorsement you’ll get from a reliable source. The previous batch of Aerin headcanons and the next one has some less than fun facts about him.

What to say about him? He’s a mid level commander and violent sadist who accuses women of witchcraft. He often ignores Aerin because he gets bored of being cruel to the same people, hence her glowing character endorsement (my sarcasm as well as hers). He’s way too obsessed with his own dagger (hence the title of the story) He’s mostly fun to write when he’s getting stabbed by Morwen with it and the art I have of it is the best thing ever. Earlier last year I thought my dark!Finarfin was the worst character I’d write but I think even he isn’t as bad, if only because dark Arafinwë has more self awareness. The BoLT version is interesting too because it puts his actions in an even more disturbing light when he’s acting against his own people. I tend to use a combination that has him originally from Hithlum but having left a couple decades before the start of the Narn. I have...thoughts about this including one of the most disturbing things I think I have ever come up with regarding Dagor Bragollach.

Anyways he’s an awful person and needs to stay away from Aerin and Morwen and just about everyone else on the planet. Currently I’m playing with an idea for a wip where Morwen does convince Aerin to flee to Hareth in Brethil and then finds herself accused of causing her vanishment by sinister means.

But I had to work out his character so much for Cut Your Hand As Willingly (semi published, it has its own tag which I’ll put on this post) that I’m not sure I could face writing him again.

Lorgan: Any visuals I have of him are based on the description of the governor from The Magnus Archives episode Foundations. He’s notable to me mainly for being the guy who Húrin yells at in The Wanderings. Well, one of them. I guess that story does have more than one instance of Húrin yelling at people. He also apparently considered abducting Niënor. I don’t know exactly what version this was in, I actually thought I invented that in my brain but then two people completely unrelated posted about it so it’s somewhere in HoME. I have a post about it here. It’s kind of pathetic that he failed in this despite the family being actually cursed. Always a possibility for further exploration in dark aus He doesn’t appear in many of my stories except as a background character.

I don’t like him much either but it’s also interesting to imagine versions where he was originally of Húrin’s people too.

#the silmarillion #the children of húrin #the wanderings of Húrin #morwen #aerin #musing and meta #word ran among them #cw abuse #cut your hand as willingly

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