#silvered mirrors

[aran-morinorea]

cat's eyes, torment Nelyo but he's young and freaked out and also a cat shifter lmao

Once he is bonded – if his omega allows it, of course – he will be able to move more freely. Even if he is not sent out alone, he will probably accompany his spouses on their own errands, at least sometimes. If he understands correctly. And then, the way everyone seems to assume there’s nothing between his ears may be an advantage. He has a good deadpan. If he is thought of as a part of the backdrop, rather than a person who might be listening, people will not watch their mouths around him. It could be useful.

He drops his head into his hands, laughing at himself without humor. Here he is, thinking as though he needs to make plans, when he knows perfectly well that planning is not something anyone will ever expect of him again.

It doesn’t matter. He will – make it work, and it will give Mother what she needs to keep his brothers safe. That is what matters.

[aran-morinorea]

two incoming, here is the first wheee: Cat's-Eyes in Silvered Mirrors

By the second silver-day in Tirion, Russandol is seriously reconsidering his life choices. Everyone here acts as though their gender is the most important part of their personality, and he doesn’t understand it. He cannot go anywhere unaccompanied. It’s not a terrible loss to stay in the guest-room, really, since it isn’t as though anyone will so much as speak to him out there, and it’s difficult to appreciate the sights when he feels like he’s being stared at all the time. There are just so many people.

[aran-morinorea]

And lastly some Cat’s eyes in silvered mirrors please :)

On the trip, Makalaurë had confessed to him, half-guilty, that he was looking forward to experiencing the city. Of course he knew that being swept up in Grandmother’s schemes was an unhappy occasion, really, and he was glad not to have been sent there alone to apprentice and been told half his life that their parents were mad, but – Tirion! He couldn’t refuse the chance to see that shining city, the true crown jewel of their people, of their family. Even Father had never spoken poorly of the aesthetics, only the company. Yet now Makalaurë is looking at Russandol bewildered, and plainly they are thinking the same thing: why is there nowhere to climb? Do city people just spend all their time two-legged?

Apparently so.

[aran-morinorea]

also Silvered Mirrors :)

Once or twice, Russandol tries to participate in the conversation, but all the city people stare at him like he’s stripped naked and started yodeling, so he stops.

They are settled in comfortable quarters embedded deep in the dizzying maze of the palace. It is all very… clean, and strangely flat. They have three separate bedrooms, and it takes all three of them together to convince their attendants to wait outside the main door, rather than in the sitting room which connects them.

[aran-morinorea]

Oooo let hear some Madonna!(Cats eyes please~~)

The three of them meet the High Queen, resplendent in silk and silver. Even in his own hall, he is veiled entirely. His expressions are just barely visible through the shifting fabric, when the light hits it at a certain angle. He speaks to Makalaurë with affection, and asks after his studies. He greets Mother as a beloved daughter-in-law, and asks after her work. He looks at Russandol for a moment, and smiles indulgently, and moves on.

[aran-morinorea]

Cats eyes please?? <3

… Russandol has been categorically forbidden from worrying about how well he and Carnistir are doing managing the little ones. He is having mixed success in obeying this injunction, but Father is there, and if he needs backup he can call in his in-laws. Whether he will even if he needs to is a separate question, but--

He's not worrying about it.

[aran-morinorea]

and cat's eyes?

Thirteen days – six silver and seven golden – before the wedding, Russandol and his mother arrive in Tirion. Makalaurë has come with them, but their father hasn’t; he refuses to go anywhere near the place, and would cause a diplomatic disaster if he did. Tyelkormo is also, theoretically, old enough for a court occasion, but he has no better temperament or inclination for such things than Father does.

[aran-morinorea]

WIP WEDNESDAY TUESDAY

Slimmed-down post/rules, but originally taken from kedreeva (and directly taken from suzukiblu)

It’s WIP Wednesday on a Tuesday! It's time for everyone's favorite show, "Dubcon At Best!"

Here’s how it works:

I will post the file names of five WIPs, and will also post a snippet of new content from one of them to get the ball rolling.

Send me an ask with the name of one of the listed WIPs and I will write you a minimum of three sentences in that WIP in response!

Multiple (separate) asks are fine ^-^

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

WIP names:

With Tar-Telepta, Aran Morinórea (coruling Mordor for fun and aesthetics; silvergifting; on ao3 here):

Annatar’s Shit Paradigms (catastrophic consent-related miscommunication)

Without Tar-Telepta:

Non-Euclidean Nan Elmoth (Maeglin mind controlling Glorfindel for fun and aesthetics; part 2, First Meetings; the boys get to Gondolin)

The Worst Finrod (Finrod lives but thats worse; finrod/curufin + finrod/celegorm bad style)

Cat's-Eyes in Silvered Mirrors (role reversal of @lissomlace's Gilded Silks and Linens; doing madonna/whore shit to alphas in the Years of the Trees; o!Fingon/b!Finrod/a!Maedhros)

Mallachel (accidental time travel with Nargothrond Celebrimbor and melted Sauron; silvergifting; on ao3 here)

snippet from Cat's Eyes in Silvered Mirrors:

“Oh, shit," Russo breathes. "He’d get himself killed.”

Surprisingly vehement, Mother says, “No, Maitimo. I never want you to think like that. It would not be his fault. Those people may blame alphas for their own actions, might act like one can be responsible for the hurt others do them, but they are wrong.”

“Fine, then.” That feels like splitting hairs, a bit. What matters is, “The city would kill him.”

After a moment, she nods.

Russandol tries to think. “What of the chance,” he asks, “that agreeing to this would make him push harder for the rest of us to become more… integrated with high society, rather than backing off?”

Mother takes the time to think about it, which Russandol appreciates. “It might raise his hopes,” she says slowly, “but it would also give us leverage with which to crush them. You can prove to him that your father is raising his children well. Also, your presence in the capital, able to write to us, would let us better understand – better prepare for – whatever is going on over there.”

That does make a certain amount of sense. He’s not entirely convinced of leaving Makalaurë in charge of the pack of feral idiots, but who knows, maybe responsibility will be good for him. He hums, thinking, and then asks, “And who is my unfortunate suitor?”

“Findekáno Nolofinwion,” Mother answers, shrugging. “I don’t know anything more about him.”

“Nolofinwion?” Russandol has never heard anyone except Father talk about the Crown Prince, and neither of them had even presented yet the last time they saw each other. Knowing the stories are very likely biased and definitely outdated does little to make him feel better about the prospect of mating his half-uncle’s kid, though.

Mother knows what he’s thinking. Grimacing, she says, “Yes. If I understand correctly, it will mean that your children will be much further up the line of succession than otherwise. The king may expect that to be an enticement for your father.”

The thought of having children of his own shocks him more than it should. He doesn’t know how to feel about it. Instead of addressing that any further, he says, “He literally birthed Father, I don’t know how he seems to know nothing about him.” He certainly can’t imagine Mother thinking something equally stupid about him.