#Feanor is always a challenge to write

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine your feanorian family meeting your baby for the first time

Imagine your feanorian family meeting your baby for the first time

Requested by Anon

Hello!! I hope you're having a great day, it's my first time requesting so I'm a little nervous lol I was wondering if you could write a "sequel" of that headcanon about being Nerdanel adopted child, so basically the reader marries and is pregnant, and when the family meets the baby (a tiny baby boy) they learn he ends up looking very much like Fëanor just pure fluff and comedy

(Author's note: I changed it just a bit because I got another request like this. Also because I do not see the possibility reader's son looking like Feanor when reader is adopted, but I did make reader's son mimic Feanor. )

Warnings: pregnancy, Feanor being a bit worried, childbirth, and fluff, and a bit of comedy.

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- After courting, which eventually led to marriage, you and Melo decided to start your own family. It had been challenging as Melo had to adapt to a new life as part of your family, but he managed, and you two moved into a spacious house not too far from your family and his mother.

- With extra rooms and being financially well-off, you considered having children. You two talked about having kids before, and now that you were in a position to raise a child, you brought it up to Melo again. He was delighted by the idea of having your own little one running around, so you took time off from your jobs and started trying. 

- After some time, you finally got pregnant.

- You shared the news with your family, who were happy and eager to have a new member in the family. Melo’s mother was also thrilled by the news. 

- Your pregnancy had its challenges, many times you got afraid that something was wrong with your little one, but with Melo by your side and your family supporting you through – all went well and the day finally arrived when your water broke and you welcomed your little boy to the world. 

- Your labor was a rough one, but your son was born healthy and you made it through without heavy effects on your health. 

- Melo cried when he held your son. He did not mind watching over your child while you took your hard-earned rest.

- As you wanted to keep the moment to yourself, you did not immediately invite your family to meet your son. They respected your decision, especially when you assured them that the labor went well and that you were fine. They patiently waited as you rested and when you were well enough to walk again, you brought your son to meet them with Melo. 

- Your parents and Melo’s mother were thrilled to meet their grandson. Your brothers were curious and gentle when holding their new nephew. Your uncles and cousins sent gifts and congratulations when they heard the news, happy that your labor went well and that your son was born healthy. 

- Your father kept asking if you suffered any lingering effects from the labor, and it took a lot of assurance that you were right. You knew from your mother that he had always been wary when it came to childbirth, due to the death of his mother, so you did not feel overwhelmed by his worry. 

- The meeting went well, although, one funny thing that happened was that your son seemed to take a keen liking to his grandfather, radiating the same energy and mimicking his judgmental expression when something silly happened. 

- This earned some chuckles and jokes about how your son was becoming like mini Feanor.

- You and Melo stayed with your family for a few days, trying to gain new bearings with your son now as your responsibility and learning to take care of him with your parents as your guide. 

- It was challenging, but your parents and Melo’s mother were good teachers. The gifts from your cousins and other necessary items provided by your parents also eased your start to parenthood and you and Melo finally felt ready to do it yourselves. 

- You returned to your own house and began the next chapter of your life with your son as part of your small family. 

- Thanks to the things you learned from your family, raising your son was not a difficult task, and every day became a cherished memory. 

- Occasionally, when you and Melo wanted a break or have some alone time, you would call in your family to babysit your son. The twins and Celegorm really wanted to be the fun uncles, so they were always up for the task. With them, your son was never bored. Sometimes, you leave your son with your parents who were always delighted to spend time with their grandson. 

- Your life was good, and as your son grew older, you began thinking about giving him siblings to play with. However, you were not keen on reliving the experience of labor, so you considered following in your mother’s footsteps by giving your son siblings through adoption. Melo supported the idea, so later, you adopted two children into your family. 

[balrogballs]

For the I wish you would write meme, I wish you would write Feanor at the moment before he makes the oath or speech! You’re so good at cinematic scenes, I would love to see this

ok this one was a CHALLENGE because Fëanor is one of those characters I’m terrified to write, simply because he is just THAT incredibly multifaceted so I love and hate you for suggesting this! have done my best:

It is not the theft, but the emptiness after. It had torn something loose in him to see Finwe sprawled across the marble threshold like a bolt rattled free, a hinge twisted just so. And it is this rupture, really, his father wrenched out like an unready tooth, that makes it so that Fëanor’s thoughts no longer aligned neatly but veered off-course, colliding like beaten oxen. Vendettas hawk their wares louder than reason in his mind, drown out caution and mercy. Nothing, Fëanor. Loss and theft and extraction and greed and there will be nothing left! Nothing!

He can feel the war build inside him, troops gathering in an instant, not a slow boil but a sublimation. He can feel the weight of Finwe’s bones shifting beneath the skin, as if they’re growing heavier in death, filling with stone. Formenos closes in, the world reduced to his father’s sunken chest and slackened jaw, instruments of his former booming laugh now trapped in the body’s collapsed architecture. Horror struck, he pushes Finwe off his lap and stands. His father’s weight still presses on his thighs, as heavy as ever.

The dead weigh no more than a grain of sand. They are vessels emptied of purpose. He knows this. Fëanor has always known this. But still, his Atya feels unbearably heavy, bearing down on him like a fallen tree, roots wrapping around his ribs. His mind twists in on itself, then begins a slow unravelling: what if this weight isn’t his body? What if it is mine? Loss and theft! What if I am the one crumbling under the weight of what I had him guard? Who next? How many holes will I carry? My boys? My seven boys? Loss and theft and extraction and greed! How much would they weigh, seven boys at once?

His knees buckle at the thought and he moves to catch himself, only to slip on the slick, bloodstained marble stairs, crash to the ground. Fëanor looks up at his bootprint in his father’s blood. Something within him gives way.

[autumnshighlady]

A Lesson in Language

Fëanor x female!reader

part of The Professor Series

summary: challenging your linguistics professor is your favourite past time, until he decides it's time for you to face consequences for it

warnings: smut, power dynamic, daddy kink (only a little bit at the end), rough oral sex (m receiving), hate sex, roughness, Fëanor is a raging asshole

word count: 4.4k

request: Professor Feanor x reader? With fiery smut and snarky student reader ;) I was thinking something like he’s a linguistics prof (since he did come up with a new system of writing) and he teaches this one course that reader needs to graduate but she’s annoyed that he teaches it’s either his way or nothing at all so she argues with him all the time in office hours for her marks and etc?

So since we seem to be imagining everybody as a professor: Feanor. He'd be mean, and condescending, and the gods may help you if you're not good in his class (wth is he even teaching, he's good at everything💀) But if you're his best student, and a bright mind beyond class assignments? You'll want the gods to help you for wholly different reasons.

a/n: Fëanor is a massive douche in this fic ladies pls never let a man treat u like this lmao

series playlist on Spotify here

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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You rolled your eyes as you doodled in the margins of your notebook, trying to ignore Professor Fëanor’s arrogant voice echoing in the classroom. He was droning on about pragmatics, a topic you had mastered last year already. You hated this class – it was tedious at best, and like watching paint dry at its worst. The only reason you were begrudgingly taking it was because it was your last requirement for graduation, as the class involved drawing up your own research study instead of a final exam. Everyone who was in this class took it for one of two reasons – either they were the same as you and just needed it for graduation, or they were lovestruck morons enamoured with the professor.

Admittedly, he was an attractive male. His long, raven-black hair suited his sharp face, with grey blue eyes that surveyed the class like a hawk, picking on daydreaming students to answer difficult questions. He was always impeccably dressed, and spoke with more confidence than anyone you had ever met. Yet he was arrogant and stubborn, insisting his way was the only way to learn linguistics. He spoke to his students as if they were dumb, incapable of being anywhere near his level of knowledge. And it irritated you beyond belief.

You were well known amongst your peers for getting into arguments with the professor. Dr. Fëanor had a nasty temper that frightened most, but amused you. You were the only student who didn’t hesitate to challenge him and stick up for yourself when he decided he wanted to bully his students. You were confident in your linguistic skill set, marching to his office to argue your grades whenever he gave you a shitty mark. You could tell it infuriated him, how his best student didn’t kiss his ass like he had clearly expected you to.

“Am I interrupting your artistic time, (Y/N)?” Dr. Fëanor’s bored voice sounded a few feet away from you, snapping you back to reality. You looked up, and he was standing in front of your table, glaring down at you. The students beside you shrank back, afraid to be caught up in the professor’s wrath. But you didn’t back down, only sighing and looking up to meet his gaze.

“What was that, sir?” You asked, widening your eyes and faking innocence knowing damn well it would piss him off further.

“You haven’t been paying attention to a single thing I’ve said all week.” He snorted. “How you are my top student is beyond me, with such a short attention span.”

“I’ve been paying attention, sir.” You lied, bringing your elbows to rest on the table. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then you won’t mind a little pop quiz, just for you?”

You shrugged. “Fire away.”

“What are the three airstream mechanisms in phonetics?” His shoulders were tense, a sign of his visible annoyance towards you.

Your answer rolled off your tongue. “Pulmonic, glottalic, velaric.”

“Define a morpheme.”

“The smallest meaningful unit of language. It must have a meaning of its own, either lexical or a grammatical function, and it must be minimal, not containing any smaller units that have meanings of their own.”

“And what are the four maxims of conversation?”

“Quality, quantity, relation and manner.” You smiled, watching your professor’s face get redder as you answered his questions easily.

“Name the distinctive linguistic properties of Quenya that make it differ from Sindarin.” Dr. Fëanor smirked, cocking his head arrogantly. You knew he would ask this question, it was too predictable. He was the master of Quenya, having played a huge role in the development of the language and construction of the Tengwar alphabet. 

But as usual, he underestimated you. You took a breath, pretending to think for a moment before lifting your chin and meeting his gaze once again. “Where do I begin?” You said confidently. “Quenya is a more complex agglutinative language that strings morphemes together into long words using an inflectional system with a flexible syntax, while Sindarin has a much easier to follow language structure. Quenya uses 5 tenses to conjugate, Sindarin has 6 and words often begin with vowels whereas in Quenya, they typically end in vowels. They both use the structures SVO and OVS structures, but Sindarin uses VS and VO, although it lacks the OSV structure that Quenya has. Additionally, Quenya adopted case endings for nouns in nominative and genitive cases, using the dual plural to represent plural form since it lacks a definite article to mark the regular plural. Would you like me to go on, sir?”

The entire class was utterly silent. No one dared breathe in the moments following your monologue as you waited for your professor to reply. You expected him to yell at you, maybe throw a manuscript at your head. But he didn’t move. It began to make you uneasy, and you noticed a strange look cross his face for a half second before he finally spoke. 

“I’ve heard more than enough from you for one class.” Fëanor’s voice was leathally calm, sending goosebumps up your arm. “Keep your mouth shut for the remainder of the lecture, and pay attention.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up your pen and sitting back in your chair as the professor continued his lecture. You crossed your legs, making your skirt hike up on your thighs, but you were too annoyed to fix it. Your professor was an arrogant bastard who couldn’t comprehend that not everyone around him was as dumb as rocks. But your skin flushed as you drifted off into one of your many daydream scenarios of Fëanor bending you over his desk and taking his anger out on you. You just knew he was rough and dominant in bed, having fantasised about being on the receiving end of that fire within him.

Your daydreaming was cut short as the professor began distributing last week’s quizzes back to the students. He didn’t acknowledge your presence as he ungracefully dropped yours in front of you. You noticed quickly a note was attached to it, that read:

Be in my office at 5pm tonight. We need to have a talk about your attitude.

You sucked in a breath. This was new. Not once had he invited you to his office – you were there of your own volition often enough to challenge him about your marks. You wouldn’t be surprised if he put up a sign on his door barring you specifically from entering. You knew he hated your visits to his office, so why invite you now? Talks with your professor about your attitude were done in public, specifically to try and humiliate you. 

You folded up the note and slid it into your pocket, nervousness beginning to churn in your gut. Was he going to fail you out of spite? You’d be unable to complete your degree if he did that. While Fëanor was an arrogant asshole, you didn’t think he was cruel. Or at least you hoped so.

Tears began to well in your eyes as the possibility of failing dawned on you. Perhaps there were consequences to mouthing off to your professor after all. 

*******************

A few hours later, you knocked at the elaborate wooden door to Fëanor’s office, then wiped your face one last time. You had spent an hour in the bathroom attempting to fix your makeup and conceal the evidence of your tears and failing, miserably. Your mascara was wet, giving you more of a smokey eye look than you had intended. Your smudged face was a stark contrast with your perfectly put together outfit – a short brown pencil skirt and tall boots, paired with a tight fitting, slightly cropped t-shirt. You felt ridiculous now, going to your professor’s office like this, but you had no other choice.

“Come in. And close the door behind you.” His deep voice echoed from inside the office, and you pushed the heavy door open. His office was its usual organised mess, manuscripts and books everywhere, laid out across every sitting space available save for the single chair in front of his desk. The room glowed orange from the roaring fireplace off to the side, making it look more like an ancient cave than an office.

You carefully walked over to the chair in front of the desk, clasping your hands in front of you.

“Sit.” Fëanor ordered, finally glancing up at you when you hesitated. “Unless you prefer to kneel on the floor?”

Your face burned bright red as you scrambled into the chair, ignoring the way his insinuation made your thighs tingle with need. He ignored you for a few minutes, continuing whatever he was translating on his desk. You shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do. None of your interactions had ever been like this – quiet, suspenseful, behind closed doors. No, it was always bickering arguments that turned heads in the hallways. Something was different about him.

“Do you know why I really called you in here today?” He asked, still not looking up. His long hair was tied back, except for a few loose strands that hung around his face as he wrote.

“To fail me.” You said quietly.

He barked a heartless laugh. “Gods, no. Failing you would mean I’d have to endure a whole extra semester of your arrogant attitude. I refuse to put myself through that.”

You felt all nervousness fade away, quickly replaced by that hot anger only he seemed to be able to get out of you. “I’m arrogant?” You snapped. “Take a look in the mirror.”

Fëanor’s writing ceased, and his grey blue eyes met yours and narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard what I said.” You fired back, unable to stop the words from coming out of your mouth. “You’re the arrogant one here, sir. You try to belittle me every time I prove myself to be smart because you can’t imagine that everyone around you isn’t a complete imbecile.”

You expected the male to snap back, to call you an idiot and ask how dare you say these things to him. Truthfully, you couldn’t believe you were saying these things either. All your arguments had been about the material so far, veiled insults hidden beneath your words. Never were you this open, this bold, about how you felt. 

“Anything else?” He said in a bored manner.

“Yeah, you’re a real prick.” You continued your angry rambling, sick of being looked down on by this male. “You know as well as I do that I’m your best student, yet you treat me like the problem kid at the back of the class. It’s ridiculous, and the only reason you do it is to feel better about yourself. Am I wrong, sir?”

A long pause followed, and you swallowed a lump in your throat. If you weren’t going to fail before, you definitely were now. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You simply sat there, eyes locked with your ill-tempered linguistics professor. After a few minutes, you couldn’t take it anymore, averting your gaze to inspect a loose thread on your skirt.

“Do you know why I’m such an arrogant… prick, did you say?” He stood up, walking around to the front of his desk and leaning against it, crossing his large arms. “Because I’ve earned it. I invented the Tengwar script and am the most knowledgeable person on the Quenya language there is. I have created and invented things that nobody else has, and nobody will ever come close to achieving what I have achieved. I have earned my arrogance, you have not. You’re just a little girl who’s in way over her head.”

You saw red, angrily pushing back the chair as you stood up to challenge him . Fëanor was a good foot taller than you, making you strain your neck to meet his gaze. “Call me a little girl one more time, I fucking dare you.” You hissed.

“Or what?” He smirked. “You’ll cry? Just like you did before you came in here?”

Your jaw went slack, “Wha–”

Fëanor scoffed, pleased with himself. “Oh, please, don’t even try. It was written all over your pretty face. I like it covered in tears, by the way. It’s a good look on you.”

WIthout thinking, your hand reached up and connected with his face, a dull slap echoing throughout the office. “Fuck you.” You spat, turning to storm out before you could face the consequences of hitting your professor.

But Fëanor was faster, his large hand firmly clasping around the hand you just slapped him with and yanking you back around to face him. His other hand grabbed your other wrist, and no matter how much you squirmed against it he didn’t budge. His eyes were dark as he pulled your hands up and across each other, pushing them into your chest as he stepped even closer to you. 

“You wish.” He purred mockingly. “Isn’t that right? Is that not one of the reasons why your attention drifts off in class? Because you’re fantasising about being bent over my desk and fucked until you can’t remember your own name?”

“You think way too highly of yourself–” You tried to defend yourself, but he cut you off as if you hadn’t even said anything.

“You think I’m blind? That I don’t notice how you always wear those revealing outfits on the days you have my class. Don’t play dumb, it’s not a good look on you.”

You thrashed in his grip, ignoring the effect his words had on you. “Let me go right now you self righteous, narcissistic–”

“Kneel.”

That made you freeze. “Excuse me?”

“You really need to learn how to shut up.” Feanor growled. “And that’s what I’m going to do. I’ve had enough of that mouth of yours, it’s time to make it useful for once. Now kneel.”

You were utterly dumbstruck, unable to do anything as your professor gave you a shove, making you fall to your knees on the ground in front of him. The wooden floor made your joints ache, but you knew better than to protest.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Fëanor began, the sound of his belt unbuckling distinct in the background. “Do you think you can follow simple instructions for once?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, throat dry with anticipation for what was about to happen.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He paused his movements, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at his towering form. “I’m going to stuff that smart mouth of yours with my cock, and you’re going to take it like the desperate little slut I know you are. If you please me enough, I will bend you over this desk and fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow. And you’ll have learned your lesson to keep your mouth shut when I tell you to, understood? Is that simple enough for you to understand?”

“Yes, sir.” You repeated, trying to keep the shake out of your voice. Your core throbbed at his words, exactly as dominant as you imagined him to be.

Fëanor finally unzipped his trousers, letting them fall to his feet along with his boxers, revealing the thickest cock you had ever seen. Your jaw dropped, but you didn’t even care that you had just boosted his ego. All you could think about was how it would possibly fit.

“What’s the matter?” He mocked. “Too big for you? Scared you won’t be able to take it? You’ll be able to take it because I’ve told you so. Now open.”

You parted your lips, letting your professor slide his cock between them. You sucked on the tip, earning a groan of pleasure from the male above. Forcing your jaw to relax, you took him deeper, aching with the stretch.

Without warning, Fëanor impatiently grabbed the back of your head and pushed you down further. Tears blotted your face as you gagged around him, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked him. Clearly, he wasn’t concerned with having you come up for air, forcing you to breathe through your nose.

He set a rough pace, guiding your head up and down his cock as far as it would go without making you gag too much. Your mascara began to run down your face, and you made sure to keep eye contact with him despite the strain on your throat.

“There’s a good little slut,” Fëanor growled, tightening his grip on your hair as he thrusted faster. “I told you you looked better with tears running down your face.”

You couldn’t protest with his cock around your mouth, so you only whimpered, focusing on taking him deeper. You sucked hard with each stroke, letting your tongue run along the vein underneath his shaft as you bobbed your head. Your professor moaned shamelessly above you, a sound that set your nerves alight.

Mindlessly, your hand wandered between your legs, attempting to relieve some of the pressure building there. Your fingers hadn’t even grazed your panties when Fëanor halted his movements, holding your head down at the base of his cock. 

“Don’t even think of touching yourself.” He hissed angrily. “I didn’t give you permission to do so. Try it again, and I won’t let you cum. Got it?”

You nodded around the base of his cock, whimpering. Your jaw was in agony, stretched to the max to accommodate his length. When he finally moved your head once again, you doubled your efforts, determined to make your arrogant professor fall apart. You sat on your hands for good measure, trying to avoid the temptation to ignore his orders altogether.

Fëanor began thrusting his hips to meet your mouth a few minutes later, his pretty eyes screwing shut as he tilted his head back. “Fucking swallow every last drop.” He grunted between thrusts, his grip on your scalp tightening right before his cock twitched in your mouth. He came with a loud groan, shooting spurts of warm liquid down your throat. You kept bobbing your head, sucking up every last drop and letting it slide down your throat. He panted, hips sputtering as you sucked him dry before finally pulling your lips off him. Your jaw ached like never before, but you were strangely proud of yourself. The image of your high strung professor climaxing into your mouth would be forever burned into your mind.

“Looks like you’ve earned your reward after all.” Fëanor grabbed you by your shoulders and hoisted you up onto his desk with impressive strength. You didn’t have time to ask if you should move the papers on his desk before his mouth crashed into yours. His lips were hot and dominating, overwhelming your senses. You barely had time to kiss him back before he was pulling away, attaching his lips to your neck and biting down, making you cry out. He sucked and bit every inch of your throat in a manner you knew would leave dark bruises the next day, undoubtedly an intentional choice on his part.

You felt your shirt being yanked up, Fëanor quickly pulling it over your head along and ripping your bra off then tossing both items somewhere behind him. His calloused hands eagerly grabbed your breasts, squeezing hard. You squirmed under his touch, wanting to get away from the harshness of it but also needing more somehow. Fëanor’s mouth assaulted your breasts, biting the soft flesh firmly before taking your nipple in his teeth and flicking the bud with his tongue.

“Oh, fuck.” You couldn’t help but moan, tilting your head back.

“You like this?” Fëanor teased, lifting his mouth from your breast momentarily before hovering over the other one. “You like it when I’m rough, treating you like a dirty little whore? Leaving marks all over your body so you know that you’re my property, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir!” You cried out as he sucked at your other breast. It was overwhelming, his hands were everywhere except where you needed them most.

As if he read your mind, Fëanor pulled away, ripping his shirt over his head to reveal the most sculpted abs you’d ever seen. The bastard stood there for a moment, proudly watching you admire his form. Gods above, you’d never be able to focus in class again after seeing his muscles.

He reached down and roughly tugged your skirt and panties down, exposing your glistening cunt. Fëanor plunged a finger into you without warning, pressing a thumb to your clit and making you see stars. His mouth found your neck again as you squirmed under his touch, a hand reaching around your back and pressing you into his frame.

“You’re a fucking mess,” He growled into your neck, adding in a second finger and stretching your hole. “All for me, isn’t that right? I’m going to break you, my dear. Break you into a thousand pieces and put you back together so I can do it all over again and make you mine.”

You whined, feeling your muscles clench around him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You were approaching your orgasm faster than you ever had in your life. “I’m close…” You mumbled through shallow breaths, legs beginning to twitch.

He smirked. “I know.” Was all he said before roughly pulling his fingers away, right before you could make the final stretch towards the edge.

“What the hell!” You exclaimed, angry. Before you could cuss him out, his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

“What did I tell you about keeping that pretty mouth shut?” Fëanor growled. “I would threaten to stuff it with my cock again, but you’d probably enjoy that too much. Guess I’m just going to have to fuck you so hard you scream and lose your voice.”

He roughly turned you around, pushing you by your neck so you were stomach first down on the desk with your feet still on the floor. You breathed heavily, grasping the edge with your fingertips as Fëanor lined his cock up to your entrance. You forced your body to relax, knowing it was going to hurt at first.

His hands found your hips and he slammed into you, almost knocking the wind right out of your lungs. You barely had time to catch your breath and acknowledge the stinging stretch between your legs before he pulled out and did it again, setting a brutal pace. You began to scream, fully screaming in pleasure and pain as Fëanor pounded into you relentlessly. You couldn’t even think straight, all logical thoughts about there possibly being people in the hallway that could hear you as you cried out over and over again.

Fëanor’s grip on your hips was almost bone shattering, his thick cock slamming into your g-spot faster than anyone had ever fucked you. He was right, your entire body would be sore tomorrow. In fact, you’d be lucky if you were able to walk to class. Fëanor’s thrusts were so powerful, you were sure he was going to split you in half.

And you fucking loved it.

You loved being bent over your professor’s desk, unable to think about anything else aside from how hard he was fucking you. The male you had had verbal sparring matches with for weeks was taking his frustration out on you, and you loved it. You enjoyed being at his mercy, feeling things nobody else had been able to make you feel.

Fëanor grunted, reaching one hand down and rubbing your clit. “You cum when I say you cum, got it?”

You nodded, whimpering as you felt your body try and pick up where it left off. You begged it to keep your orgasm at bay, knowing Fëanor would be less than happy if you came without his permission. So you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to think about anything else.

He thrusted into you for what seemed like hours, to the point where your legs had gone almost numb. You were a sobbing mess, fighting to stop yourself from climaxing all over his cock. The papers on his desk were stained with your tears, and your determination to not beg him for anything snapped.

“Please let me cum.” You sobbed pathetically.

Fëanor only increased his pace on your clit, smirking as he pounded you. “Aw, are you crying again? Poor little thing is so desperate to cum for daddy, isn’t she?”

Daddy. Your brain went haywire. Normally, you were not into the whole daddy kink, but the way Fëanor said it changed something in you. You whined, nodding. At this point, you’d say whatever to get him to let you cum. “Please, daddy, I need to cum,” You cried, body shaking. “I’ll do anything you want, please just let me finish.”

Fëanor groaned behind you, his cock twitching inside of you, evidence of his pleasure with your response. “That was pathetic,” He grunted. “But I’ll let it slide. Cum for me, slut. Cum now.”

Your body let go before he finished his sentence, the dam that had been holding your orgasm back bursting, letting the climax wash over your body. You cried out, voice breaking with hoarseness as your legs twitched violently, your grip on the desk and Fëanor’s hand on your hip being the only thing keeping you from sliding onto the floor.

The world spun around you, and at one point you were pretty sure you lost consciousness. As you came down from your high, Fëanor moaned loudly, pulling out and stroking his cock while jutting his hips forward. Thick spurts of cum landed on your back mixing with the sheen of sweat already there. His loud groan echoed throughout the office as you panted, your entire body feeling both completely wrecked and on cloud nine at the same time.

You tried to speak, but no words came out. Your vocal cords were shot, jaw aching with every movement. You didn’t even hear Fëanor retreat, but he returned with a towel, gently wiping the seed off your skin. You wanted to thank him, but couldn’t. In fact, you weren’t sure if you could even move. 

Fëanor chuckled, bundling up your clothes and setting them beside you. He placed a glass of water to your lips, tilting it back and letting you eagerly drink it up. “You’re excused from Thursday’s lesson,” He said smugly. “Only because I know you won’t be able to get out of bed to get to class. Let this be your lesson learned not to question me, or call me an arrogant prick. Got it?”

You nodded weakly, defenceless, and knowing your linguistics class with Dr. Fëanor would never be the same.

[zealouswerewolfcollector]

My 2023 Fic List

I posted 78,856 words this year! It might not seem much, but it's a record for me. So here's the list of my 2023 works sorted by date.

Four Ficlets

Written for the SWG server's instadrabbling challenge - Elwing and Idril's First Meeting (124 words, G), Elwing and the Silmaril (76 words, T), Gil-galad and Cirdan Clean Up After the Kinslaying (228 words, T), Ancalagon's Death (106 words, G)

Gifts and Favors and a Trip (3560 words, M, Maedhros/Fingon)

My 2023 entry for My Slashy Valentine. A bit of angst, a bit of sexual tension, lots of fluff and a great deal of pining. Idiots to lovers.

Angsty Ficlet (792 words, G, Maedhros & Maglor)

Maedhros wakes up in the middle of the night, panicking for reasons unknown to himself. Maglor helps. An angsty ficlet with a little twist in the end.

Alone in the Unknown (4752 words, T, Maedhros & Maglor)

The latest part of my canon divergence AU. Maglor and Maedhros wander all alone - Maedhros nearly catatonic and Maglor trying in vain to reach him. The angstiest thing I've ever written.

Helcaraxë Cannibalism Ficlet (500 words, T, warning for cannibalism and character death)

Fingon doesn't want his body to be consumed after his death.

Maiar Hate This Simple Trick (2234 words, T, background Celebrimbor/Narvi and Galadriel/Celeborn)

My entry for Tolkien Remix 2023 is based on @elentarial's Desperation and Defeat. A series of letters between the main figures of the Second Age, trying to solve the mystery of Annatar running away from Eregion. Humor.

Proxy (5912 words, E, Maedhros/Fingon, Maedhros/Maglor, warning for dubious consent and unhealthy relationships)

Maedhros's love for Maglor is unrequited, but luckily for Maedhros, Fingon is hopelessly in love with him and somewhat resembles Maglor. A terrible love triangle between three terrible people. A deviation from my usual themes and characterization (and ratings), but the prompt in the kinkmeme spoke to me. I wrote almost 6k in a couple of days, which is a rarity for me.

Orodreth's Letter to Fingon (307 words, G)

Orodreth does everything he can to eviscerate Fingon in his letter of refusal concerning the Union of Maedhros.

Maedhros and Fingon Talk Cannibalism (247 words, T, warning for cannibalism and self-cannibalism mentions)

Another cannibalism snippet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Maedhros and Fingon share their experiences with the subject in a light-hearted tone a little inappropriate for the discussion.

Lady Makalaurë Fëanáriel Dying of Poison, Late Second Age, Artist Unknown (8671 words, T, past fem!Maglor/Maglor's wife, warning for death and suicide mentions)

One of my two fics for TRSB 2023. Based on @independence1776's edit. In her space wanderings, fem!Maglor comes across a planet and finds out things that force her to return to Eldarin civilization. I always wanted to write a sci-fi AU, and I'm really glad I got to do it.

Now a Quill, Now a Sword (11817 words, T, Maedhros/Fingon, warning for character death and implied suicide)

My second TRSB fic, written in collaboration with @melestasflight. See their beautiful art here. It's a canon-compliant fic (with a bit of post-canon at the end) that tells the story of Maedhros and Fingon's relationship from the beginning to the end.

Two Ficlets

In this one (735 words, T), Fingolfin and Fingon discuss if Maedhros can be trusted. In it's companion (1082 words, T), Fingon and Maedhros talk about the same subject.

The Hunters (2016 words, E, fem!Maedhros/Aredhel)

Another kinkmeme fill. Baby's first PWP. (Proxy doesn't count. It has a plot and I tried to make the sex horrible.) Aredhel and Maedhros - two princesses of the House of Finwë - are cousins with benefits. I really enjoyed writing it, but I don't know if it's any good because I haven't reread it since posting.

Kaleidoscope (1436 words, M, Fingon/Sons of Feanor - all of them but not at the same time except Amrod and Amras)

Inspired by @melestasflight and @polutrope's The Seven Trials of Fingon the Valiant but darker in tone. Fingon sleeps with all of the sons of Fëanor. Why? Who knows? Up to interpretation. The fic doesn't make much sense, but I still like it and I'm really glad I wrote it. The third kinkememe fill.

That's all for last year. In general, I'm more happy than not with my writing. Hopefully, it will continue this year.

Thanks to every single person who's read, liked, reblogged, left kudos and comments on my fics. You make me want to keep writing.

[laisrinel]

Masterlist

Silmarillion Fandom Events 2024

I'm always sad when I discover a public event too late, or during it without time to participate in. So, I decided to make (firstly for myself) a masterlist of the events in the Silmarillion fandom for this year (I can't do all Tolkien's fandom, sorry). All events are linked (naming the author if the account is not focused on this specific event).

If you have more infos or more events I didn't include, please tell me, I'll add them !

Inspired by Tolkien Fandom Event Calendar by arofili (2023)

> Masterlist 2024 updated < (for reblogs) Last update : 15 december 2024

> Masterlist for Silmarillion Fandom Events 2025 <

Disclaimer : I only tag NSFW or 18+ those which are clearly indicated like this. For further informations go check everyone for more triggers warning.

January

♣ Screw Yule (1 january - 20 january) : NSFW tolkien smut content

♣ January Trope roulette by fellowshipofthefics (1 january - 31 january) : writing content

♣ Looking back by teitho (1 january - 29 february) : past memories content

♣ Resolution by silmarillionwritersguild (15 january - 15 february) : prompts writings content not done in 2023

+ running along : Understory, Teitho, My Slashy Valentine, lotr Secret Santa

February

♣ Valentine event by thelien-art (1 february - 14 february) : DTIYS

♣ Femslash February by tolkienpinupcalendar (1 february - 29 february) : ship f/f content

♣ Sweet and spicy Bingo by fellowshipofthefics (1 february - 29 february) : writing content

♣ Side ship by teitho (1 february - 31 march) : background character ship content

♣ Meet & Greet by silmarillionwritersguild (15 february - 15 march) : interactive prompts writings content

♣ Maedhrosmaglorweek (18 february - 24 february) : Maedhros and Maglor content

♣ Back to middle earth month (24 february - 30 april) : diverse content events in Arda

+ running along : Teitho, Resolution, My Slashy Valentine

March

♣ Luck of the draw by fellowshipofthefics (1 march - 31 march) : writing content

♣ March-of-the-noldor (1 march - 31 march) : crossing of Helcaraxë content

♣ Rare pair bingo by tolkienpinupcalendar (1 march - 30 april) : rare ship content

♣ AU by teitho (1 march - 30 april) : Alternate universe content

♣ Manweweek (11 march - 17 march) : Manwë

♣ It comes in Threes by silmarillionwritersguild (15 march - 15 april) : prompts writings content

♣ Candcweek(link deleted) by curufiin (17 march - 24 march) : Celegorm and Curufin content

♣ Tolkienekphrasisweek (17 march - 17 june) : ekphrasis/diverse content

♣ Tolkienrsb (17 march - 30 september) : collaboration between artists and writers. Reveal in september.

♣ DTIYS by naarisz (18 march - 30 may ?) : DTIYS

♣ Feanorianweek (25 march - 31 march) : Feanor's family content

+ running along : Teitho, Meet & Greet, Back to Middle Earth Month

April

♣ AO3 tags and tropes by fellowshipofthefics (1 april - 30 april) : writing content

♣ Prompt quotes by teitho (6 april - 31 may) : prompt based content

♣ Focus on Friendship and family by spring-into-arda (8 april - 30 june) : relationship's chains of characters content

♣ Silmarillionepistolary (15 april - 20 april) : Silmarillion story as letters

♣ Tengwar challenge by silmarillionwritersguild (15 april - 15 mai) : writing prompts content based on tengwar

♣ Feast of horns (16 april - 22 april) : NSFW sexual characters meetings during an event

♣ Glorfindelweek (29 april - 5 may) : Glorfindel content

+ running along : It comes in threes, Teitho, Rare pair bingo, Tolkienekphrasisweek, Tolkienrsb, DTIYS, Back to Middle Earth Month

May

♣ Modern AU May by fellowshipofthefics (1 may - 30 may) : writing content

♣ Monster fucker May by tolkienpinupcalendar (1 may - 31 may) : NSFW fuck (<litterally) with monster content

♣ Joker by teitho (3 may - 30 june) : past challenges based content

♣ Angbangweek (6 may - 12 may) : ship Morgoth/Sauron content

♣ Crossroads of a fallen king by silmarillionwritersguild (15 mai - 15 june) : crossover based writing content

+ running along : Tengwar challenge, Teitho, Tolkienekphrasisweek, Tolkienrsb, Focus on friendship and Family

June

♣ Gentle June by tolkienpinupcalendar (1 june - 30 june) : NSFW writing smut content.

♣ Happy Pride Bingo by fellowshipofthefics (1 june - 30 june) : writing content

♣ Mentor Prompt by teitho (1 june - 31 july) : mentor based content

♣ Scribbles & Drabbles (1 june - 29 november) : exchange content

♣ Russingon-week (10 june - 16 june) : ship Maedhros/Fingon content

♣ Funky 70s by silmarillionwritersguild (15 june - 15 july) : writing prompts based content

+ running along : Crossroads of a fallen king, Joker, Tolkienekphrasisweek, Tolkienrsb, Focus on friendship and Family

July

♣ All tied up by tolkienpinupcalendar (1 july - 31 july) : NSFW writing smut content

♣ Summer stories by fellowshipofthefics (1 july - 30 july) : writing content

♣ Elrondweek (10 july - 16 july) : Elrond content

♣ Bollywood by silmarillionwritersguild (15 july - 15 august) : writing based content on Bollywood

♣ Tolkien pinup calendar by tolkienpinupcalendar (23 july - december) : commissions to illustrate a tolkien calendar

♣ Tolkienofcolourweek (29 july - 5 august) : Tolkien of colour content

♣ DTIYS by thelien-art (31 july - no end) : multiple drawings on lotr, silmarillion, bg3 and elden ring

+ running along : Tolkienrsb, Scribbles & Drabbles, Mentor prompt

August

♣ AU-gust mashup by fellowshipofthefics (1 august - 31 august) : writing content

♣ Underrated Characters by doodle-pops (1 august - 31 august) : writing content on a list of underrated characters

♣ Do you remember by teitho (1 august - 30 september) : memory based content

♣ Innumerable Stars (4 august - 20 october) : character based gift exchange

♣ Silvergiftingweek (5 august - 11 august) : ship Celebrimbor/Sauron content

♣ Eonweweek (12 august - 18 august) : Eonwë content

♣ Kings and Queens by silmarillionwritersguild (15 august - 15 september) : writing prompts content based on legendarium kings and queens

♣ Tolkienocweek (25 august - 31 august) : original character content

+ running along : Tolkienrsb, Scribbles & Drabbles, Innumerable Stars, Bollywood, DTIYS, tolkien pinup calendar

September

♣ A prompt a day by silmkinkmeme (1 september - 30 september) : NSFW writing kink prompt content every day

♣ Fotfictember by fellowshipofthefics (1 september - 30 september) : writing content

♣ Ainurweek (1 september - 9 september) : Ainur content

♣ Delay by teitho (1 september - 31 october) : delayed characters content

♣ Sindarweek (4 september - 10 september) : Sindar content

♣ Idiomatic by silmarillionwritersguild (15 september - 15 october) : writing prompts based content

♣ Imladrisweek (16 september - 22 september) : imladris based content

♣ Aspecardaweek (23 september - 29 september) : aspectral characters based content

♣ Silmsmutweek (30 september - 6 october) : NSFW writings sexually explicit

♣ Silmsmutexchange (30 september - 6 december) : NSFW exchange gifts (writings/arts) of sexually explicit content

+ running along : Tolkienrsb, Scribbles & Drabbles, Innumerable Stars, DTIYS, tolkien pinup calendar

October

♣ Dwarrowtober by mrkida-art (1 october - 31 october) : dwarves content

♣ Trick or Treat by fellowshipofthefics (1 october - 31 october) : writing content

♣ Halloween event by thelien-art (1 october - 31 october)

♣ Tolkientober by mgcoco (1 october - 31 october) : a draw a day content

♣ Legacy by teitho (1 october - 30 november) : friendship based content

♣ Morgoth-into-the-void-week (2 october - 8 october) : Void and occupants related content

♣ Tolkien dwarf week by a-grump-of-dwarves (7 october - 13 october) : dwarves based content

♣ Luthienweek (14 october - 20 october) : tale of Beren and luthien related content.

♣ Halfelvenweek (14 october - 20 october) : half elven content

♣ Orctober by silmarillionwritersguild (15 october - 15 november) : writing prompts based content

♣ Tolkienlatamandcaribbeanweek (21 october - 27 october) : latino and caribbean content

♣ Tolkien Horror Week (27 october - 2 november) : horrors in Arda content

+ running along : Scribbles & Drabbles, Innumerable Stars, DTIYS, tolkien pinup calendar, silmsmutexchange

November

♣ Lotr Secret Santa (1 november - 31 december) : exchange gifted content

♣ Healing by teitho (1 november - 31 december) : friendship based content

♣ White Oliphaunt (1 november - 31 december) : exchanging humorous gift content

♣ Nolofinweanweek cancelled (3 november - 9 november) : Fingolfin's family content. Nolofinwean-appreciation is dedicated to reblog the content nonetheless

♣ Potluck Bingo by silmarillionwritersguild (15 november - 15 january) : writing prompts based content

+ running along : Scribbles & Drabbles, DTIYS, tolkien pinup calendar, silmsmutexchange

December

♣ Disember by filiswingman (1 december - 31 december) : Dis content because she's worth it

♣ My slashy Valentine (7 december - 14 february) : NSFW slashy smut content

♣ Tolkien meta week by silmarillionwritersguild (8 december - 14 december) : meta content

+ running along : Lotr Secret Santa, DTIYS, tolkien pinup calendar

[kisses-in-the-void]

I think the reason I feel a bit uncomfortable with the widely accepted headcanon of "slutty Mairon" — not the interpretation where he uses his charm to manipulate others while remaining unaffected and pragmatic about it (which actually doesn’t go against his canon personality), but the one where he’s genuinely just into being slutty and "succumbs to his lust" — is that I can’t help but feel it stems from fans imagining him as a "twink/submissive/bottom."

And I really wonder — would this still be the case if, years ago, some big-name artist had decided to depict him as a more masculine man? And if that version had taken off and inspired others — like how Phobs’ design started the ginger Mairon trend? Because you don’t see Melkor being headcanoned as "a slut", even though, as I’ve already said, he’s the one who canonically lusted after several characters.

The whole theme of "seduction to the dark side" — which can easily be interpreted in a more suggestive way, if you want — was also originally his thing. Not just with Mairon, but with many, many Maiar. In the "Tale of Adanel", he literally seduced the entire human race, convincing them to bow before him and worship him, which led Eru to shorten their lifespans (which were originally meant to be longer). In "Morgoth’s Ring", this is even directly compared to what Sauron later did in Numenor , except what Melkor accomplished was far more impressive, because once again, we’re talking about the entire human race, not just one island. And during his time in Valinor, he managed to deceive the Noldor with his knowledge and lies right under the Valar’s noses. Even Feanor, who hated him, was indirectly affected — and we all know the consequences of his fall.

And maybe Melkor wasn’t always successful with his "seductions", but neither was Mairon — many Elves didn’t trust his Annatar persona, and not all Numenoreans joined the Melkor cult. In many ways, Mairon parallels Melkor’s actions, and his fate was similar. Both relied on lies, on exploiting the weak spots of their victims, on promising to fulfill their deepest desires if they only believed in them. And both were eventually stripped of their "fair forms" as a consequence of their crimes.

So what’s the difference between the two, when both characters are described as "seducers", yet only one gets labeled as "slutty", while Melkor is reduced to "a stupid angry brute" — even though we know he could be incredibly patient and cunning? Is it just because Melkor is seen as "the manly dominant man" and Mairon as "the submissive, seductive woman"?

I remember seeing people say they hate when Melkor bottoms in fanfics because it would be OOC, but I’ve never seen anyone have a problem with bottom!Mairon. Again, I’m convinced that if more artists had drawn Melkor as a thin twink from the start, most fans wouldn’t bat an eye at him bottoming. And they’d probably be calling him a lovely, submissive malewife to his buff, muscular smith-husband Mairon, who patiently takes care of his bratty master 😂

(But just to be clear, I’m not saying this to paint myself as wise and superior, while accusing everyone else of being stupid. I know I’ve been affected by that mindset to some degree too — I also tend to write Melkor as a top. Which is exactly why one of my personal challenges is to write angbang smut with him bottoming next time, lol)

I know the “slutty Mairon” take is super popular in fanon, but honestly, it never made much sense to me. This is a guy who sees himself as some untouchable god, someone you’re not allowed to name, let alone touching. He aims to keep himself abstract because he is a god. Personally, I prefer the version where he’s unattainable, sophisticated, and saves all his charm and seduction for the kings he needs to manipulate—because it’s business, not pleasure.

He’s a disaster-slutty-lover for Celebrimbor and Melkor specificall, but for everyone else? Forget it.

[eccentricmya]

For the writing thing, could you write about Feanor and Miriel in Mandos please?

"Ammë."

"So you remember me," Míriel remarked from the doorway to where Fëanor's spirit rested in the Halls.

Fëanor turned, the warmth of his fire moving closer to Míriel. "How can I ever forget the greatest injustice done against me?"

Míriel lowered her eyes, "I am sorry, onya. There are no words that can convey the depth of my regret."

"Is that so, Ammë?" Fëanor asked bitterly. "What are you apologising for? Leaving me or for what came after?"

"All of it," Míriel stated.

Fëanor shook his head, "It seemed like you left and the world turned against me. From my own Atar to the ones we all called guardians. I became a problem to them. An issue to be solved. Like I was something to be managed and not a person - a child! - to be loved and valued like everyone else."

"That is not true," Míriel said, stepping forward towards her son. "Your Atar loves you, Fëanáro."

"Does he?" Fëanor argued. "Or is that his guilt that manifests as a need to prove his love for me?" 

"Do not mistake his expression of love as a show of pity," Míriel answered sagely. "He has always loved you. And the Valar-"

"The Valar despise me," he interrupted. "They would treat me worse than Moringotto. Even he was given a second chance yet here I am, bound to these Halls until the world is remade. I am to pay for the mistakes they made. For their mistaken mercy to their brother, for the greed they all had for my Silmarils, for their refusal to aid us!" He laughed then, as one whose every thread of sanity had snapped and what was left behind was an unhinged shell of an elf. "Ah, but that is what my life has always been about, is it not? You left and I grew up motherless. Atar remarried and I was deemed marred. He fathered other children and my rights were threatened. My own wife stayed back and my sons and I weathered through our fates on our own. The Falmari broke long-held bonds of friendship and I was doomed as a kinslayer. My so-called half brother was untrustworthy and I paid for it with my life. They act and I am punished. Always! Always."

Míriel blinked to clear the whisper of tears that her bodyless spirit conjured. Fëanor was suffering still and she could do nothing. "That may be, Fëanáro. But you weren't blameless either. To heal you must acknowledge your own misdeeds. As I have."

"You think I do not know what I did wrong?" Fëanor questioned, ghostly eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I am aware of what I am and what I am not. Blameless I never claimed to be. But what I want all of you to remember and acknowledge is that I was not born this way, Ammë. I was not born spiteful and angry and bitter at the world. No one is. In this I can understand Moringotto - violence is always a reaction. Yet he used it to conquer and realise his ambitions when they were denied to him, while I used it to fight for what is rightfully mine. What I created with my own hands."

"Oh Fëanáro!" Míriel whispered, hesitatingly raising a hand to cup his cheek. "Melkor has your senses warped. His hold on you is so strong that you cannot see reason. You're right. No one is born with hatred in their hearts. But onya, you never needed to learn it. He pushed you towards this darkness."

Fëanor angrily wrenched away her hand, "This is what I mean! You all would conveniently blame either him or me for all things that go against you. But look inside yourselves. You are just as wrong as I was, as I am. And if you refuse to admit your own faults, then perhaps you commit a graver mistake than I ever did."

A sadness settled on Míriel's face then, as she replied, "I do know that I was wrong. That you, onya, needed me and I did not come back. I will forever regret that. At that time, all I could feel was this bone-deep weariness and nothing else mattered but my yearning for it to end. A sorrow so deep had taken root that I couldn't shake it off. And by the time I did, after long years in these Halls, it was too late. I wish I could've heeded your and Finwë's calls. But I did not. And for that, I am sorry. I wanted to come back to you, but I could not. I've waited for this moment for centuries. Yet now it is here, it feels wrong. The worng place, the wrong time. And I..."

Fëanor averted his face, suspiciously blinking rapidly, melancholy apparent in his voice, "I dreamt of you. Often. In my dreams we would be one happy family - like I saw around me everywhere. Like Atar and Indis and their children were. They became my escape for a long while - my dreams. And when I woke up and was confronted with the cruelty that was my life, I turned to my work. Little did I know that both were a waste of time. My dreams would never be real and my work would never be respected, only coveted. Had you never left, Ammë, I believe the world would have been a very different place today."

"Will you never forgive me for being who I am?" Míriel beseeched, reaching out to turn his face towards her. "Will you not accept my love now, even though it might be too late? Will you punish me for ages to come for a moment of weakness and ailment not of my making?"

"No, I could never," Fëanor choked out, taking her in his arms. "I will not turn away from the one thing that ever had I desired above all else. You have my forgiveness, Ammë, and my love you have always held."

"My Fëanáro," Míriel breathed, clutching him close to her bosom. "Onya. Oh, how I've missed you!"

"And I you."

Pulling away, Míriel once again took hold of his face with her hands, "I promise you, tyenya. I abandoned you once, but never again. Even if I have to wage war on the world myself, but I swear, mercy you shall have. For you are right. The very enemy you died fighting, he too was given a second chance. Yet he had acted solely of his own volition, without any outside influences. But you reacted, onya. And I refuse to let Moringotto's treatment be better than yours."

"It is not mercy for myself that I want. But for my sons," Fëanor said, gaze fixed on the memories of world beyond. "I thought that being bound by the same oath would bring us closer. That having a shared goal would mean they are never left behind. But I have doomed them and that I never wanted. To share in my curse of abandonment, I would never wish it upon my own sons. Yet abandoned they are, by their parents, by the Valar, and by the world too. For who would follow kinslayers bound by an irrevocable oath?"

"They are not abandoned," Míriel asserted with a conviction Fëanor was infamous for. "I am done with waiting for the world to pass me by. You are the Spirit of Fire, onya, but I am the Mother of Fire. And a mother fighting for her child is the deadliest being there is. My fire is no less brighter than yours. If you could wage war on a Vala, than I can too."

"Do not invoke their doom on yourself too, Ammë," Fëanor replied, "There are so few of our family left who do not have a terrible fate awaiting them."

"What could be more terrible than watching my son and his sons wither away in these Halls?" Míriel countered. "I have nothing to lose. Nor do I intend to lose."

"Ammë..."

"I will return, Fëanáro. And so will you to the living world," Míriel vowed, placing a lingering kiss on his formless brow, then left to keep her promises. There would still be a champion for the House of Fëanor in Aman. Because Míriel had never given up on loving her family, just on life. And look what that had wrought. It was time to weave a better story for her family now. No matter how long it took.

[amethysttribble]

Blind to All the Damage Done

@feanorianweek Entry 5: Curufin (Celebrimbor)

Ereinion’s big brother is telling him a story to try and distract him from a lot of things. It works a little.

Six AUs in which Gil-galad was a grandson of Feanor and one where he wasn’t (now on Ao3).

Yesterday, I gave you peredhel angst. Today, Tiny, bby!Gil. Tomorrow? Who knows. In other new, I am addicted to writing Curufin interacting with small children.

Tucked under the covers with the lights dimmed, Ereinion giggled into Celebrimbor’s shirt while his older brother shushed him. It was far past his bedtime, Tyelpe was supposed to take him to his room hours ago. But here they laid, snuggled together, Celebrimbor making shadow puppets on the wall for Ereinion’s amusement.

It was very fun, and very worthwhile mischief, by Ereinon’s estimation, they just had to make sure Atya didn’t hear them.

“And then,” Celebrimbor whispered, entwining his thumbs and spreading his fingers wide, “the Great Eagle flew high, high up to the top of the tallest mountain in the lands.” To Ereinion’s delight, he fluttered his fingers and the Great Eagle upon the wall flapped his wings.

“There, he was met with the Fire Heart, the source of evil which had so vexed and hurt the Elves below. Curled like a serpent upon the tip of the mountain, sat a massive, red dragon!”

Ereinion gasped, as Celebrimbor mimed making a snake, twirling in a circle, and even wiggled his fingers in such a way that it seemed the dragon was breathing fire.

“And evil Fire Heart saw the Great Eagle approach, and he said, ‘Grrraah! Such a puny bird! You think you might challenge me? I will have you for lunch. And all the little Elves will be my dessert.”

“Oh, noooo,” Ereinion drawled, joy rich in his voice as he slinked further under the covers.

Tyelpe was running out of hands now, and the Great Eagle and Fire Heart were simplified so that he could make the two fight. Ereinion did not care. Whatever his big brother made, it was always the most wonderful thing. Maybe, maybe! Ereinion could ask him to make him toys that looked like the Great Evil and Fire Heart. 

That would be grand fun.

“The Great Eagle replied, ‘You have much pride, spawn of Morgoth! And that will be your undoing.’ And said no more. He dove.”

For a time, the Great Eagle and Fire Heart fought, flying into each other, colliding, as Celebrimbor made hushed noises.

“Whoosh! Ah! Boom! Crash!”

Ereinion squealed in delight, kicking his feet excitedly as he watched the story unfold on the wall in great shadows. And then one hand smacked the other, and started to fall.

“Alas!” Celebrimbor cried, “Fire Heart struck a grave blow onto the Great Eagle!”

“Oh no!”

“With his massive teeth he took a big-” Celebrimbor gnashed his teeth together, biting down with a muffled noise, “-bite! The Great Eagle’s feathers came loose in the dragon’s mouth, and he breathed a spit of fire, roasting them.”

Ereinion’s eyes went wide, and he whispered, “Did it smell like chicken?”

Celebrimbor glanced down at him, away from his plummeting hero against the wall, and pressed his lips together tightly, shoulders shaking.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, laughter in his voice, “it smelled like roasted chicken.”

“Woah,” Ereinion said. 

“Woah, indeed. Anyway, and then the Great Eagle, his wings hurt, began to fall. Down, down he careened as the evil Fire Heart cackled for above. ‘What a glorious lunch this will be,’ he chortled. ‘Roast chicken!’”

Ereinion didn’t know whether to giggle or not. He smiled at Tyelpe’s joke, but his chest was starting to hurt and he pulled the covers up tighter against his chin. The Great Eagle was really in trouble now. That was… a little scary. 

He pressed closer against Celebimrbor and muttered, “Is the dragon really going to eat him?”

His brother shrugged carelessly, arranging his fingers into one big bird again.

“If he catches him.”

“Like they caught Amme?” Celebrimbor’s arms dropped. He looked down at him, and for a second, Ereinion feared he was in trouble. Then, Celebrimbor collapsed back against the pillows and wound an arm around him. He pulled him close, and Ereinion wrapped his arms around his big brother’s neck.

“Where did you hear that?” Celebrimbor whispered.

When Ereinion only shrugged, he sighed.

“What happened to Mother was… a freak accident. I don’t want you to worry about it, okay? Don’t think about it too much.”

“But she’s gone,” Ereinion whispered, brows furrowing. No one told him anything. All anyone would say was that Amme was gone. Not coming home. It was only when he listened while people thought he was asleep that he heard anything, and he still didn’t understand.

How could someone just be gone?

But Celebrimbor only said, “Yeah.”

Ereinion made a dissatisfied whine. Celebrimbor ignored him, or at least it felt like he did when he pulled away and sat up. Ereinion looked up at him, pouting as his brother smoothed the hair away from his face slowly.

“Do you want to hear the rest of the story?”

Erienion shrugged.

“I promise it ends well.”

He peeked up at Celebrimbor, gnawing on his lip. “Promise?” he asked, hesitantly.

And Tyelpe smiled.

“Promise.” He reached down and pulled Ereinion, sitting him between his legs, facing the wall. Then Tyelpe brought his hands up again. “Here, let’s try again. Injured, the Great Eagle fell from the sky. Down, down he went, wind rushing past him, until suddenly, he heard a sound. It was bird-song! The song of his mate, singing on the wind, and the sound brought healing words with it. All at once, the Great Eagle was healed! By the love of his love.”

Ereinion let out an awed little, “Oooohh,” turning to look up at Celebrimbor rather than at the wall. His brother didn’t notice.

“With a large push of his wings, he soared through the sky once again.”

The shadow bird mimed flapping and gliding through the air.

“Then, he returned once more to face Fire Heart.” The hands split apart to mime separate entities again. “And when he reached the top, the dragon was distracted. He was so pleased with himself, Fire Heart didn’t see the Great Eagle rise up. He was too busy looking at the village of Elves below.”

Ereinion made a choked little noise, squirming around to hold Celebrimbor around the waist, tucking his face into his shirt. With one eye squinted open, he was the shadow’s move.

“Flying high above the mountain, Fire Heart saw nothing as the Great Eagle streaked up, pointed straight. He only realized his demise was coming when he felt a sharp-” Celebrimbor made a theatrical, choked off noise.

The two puppets smashed together.

“The Great Eagle crashed into Fire Heart’s belly, beak first! And it pierced the soft little spot of flesh under the dragon’s hide. When he pulled away, Fire Heart began to fall.”

Happy with the story again, Ereinion pulled away from Celebrimbor to fully watch him use two hands to make a dragon fall to the ground. 

“Down, down, down he went, just like the Great Eagle before. But this time, nothing happened, and Fire Heart hit the ground. For there was no one who loved him enough to sing him well, and for that he perished. And there was peace in the valley again, for the Elves, and the Great Eagle and his mate.”

“Yeah!” Ereinion cried, not quite as enthusiastic as he was before, but well pleased with his story. Celebrimbor smiled at him, and he smiled back. He was about to ask for another story- perhaps this one, just a little, tiny bit less scary?- when they heard a slow clapping from the doorway.

“Incredible,” Atya said dryly, and he wasn’t smiling, “what a moving tale.”

Ereinion squeaked and quickly hid under the covers, while Celebrimbor yelped, “Father! Uh, we were just-”

“Just about to go to bed? Yes, I think you were.” 

Ereinion held his breath as he heard Atya approach, squeezing his eyes shut in the dark. It didn’t stop Atya from finding him, and he felt the covers get pulled back, then two hands grabbed him around the waist. Ereinion was hauled up and then settled against Atya’s shoulder.

Atya wasn’t even looking at him, instead staring disapprovingly down at Celebrimbor.

“I won’t ask you not to keep him up past bedtime again, because I know that’s a fool’s errand, but I will ask you to think a bit more about indulging him. Can you imagine the fright I got when I went to check on him and found the bed empty?”

Celebrimbor looked very, very upset, and Ereinion squirmed in discomfort at the sight. “It’s not his fault,” he tried to say, but they both ignored him, like they always did when they were talking. Like Ereinion wasn’t even there, even though they only seemed to talk when it was about him.

“I understand, Father,” Celebrimbor muttered. “I’ll- I’ll try to be more circumspect in the future.”

“See that you do,” was all Atya said as he walked out the door, hauling Ereinion with him.

Once they were in the hallway, Ereinion tried again, saying, “It wasn’t his fault.”

Atya was silent for a little while, ignoring him, and that made Ereinion antsy, squirming and kicking in his arms. He wanted to be let down. Atya just held on tighter. Eventually, he sighed.

“Did you enjoy the story your brother told you?” Atya said softly as they walked into Ereinion’s dark, lonely room.

“Yeah,” he said, and decided to leave the part of it being scary out, so that Celebrimbor didn’t get in trouble. Atya hated it whenever Ereinion was scared, it made him upset, and Ereinion hated when he was upset. “I liked it. I liked the puppets.”

Atya gave a hum to show he was listening as he set Ereinion down on his bed and started to tuck him. He did that a lot recently, humming and making noises. Like Uncle Turko. Except Atya used to talk a lot, ‘e-nunce-c-ating’ everything very carefully. Since Amme went away, he didn’t talk as much. He was very tired.

Atya worked a lot these days, but didn’t seem to do very much.

“I liked the eagle and dragon,” Ereinion said, tugging on Atya’s hair until he looked at him. “I want toys like that, can you make me toys like that?”

Atya would make him anything he asked for usually, no matter what Uncle Moryo or Amme said about ‘spoiling’ him. Ereinion had the best toys ever and so many of them, between Atya and Tyelpe. Or, at least, it used to be between them.

“Maybe your brother will, darling,” Atya said, leaning down to kiss Ereinion. “We might ask him in the morning.”

“Won’t you help?” Ereinion whined.

“I’m busy.”

Atya had been very, very busy since Amme died. He didn’t have time for doing anything, like helping with lessons, or telling stories, or bedtime, or the forge. He’d promised Ereinion he would take him to the forge to start learning how to smith, and then Amme left and didn’t come back.

Ereinion hated it. He crossed his arms and pouted. “Busy with what?” he whined.

“I’m going on a trip,” Atya said, and that sent a trill of terror through Ereinion so hard and fast he could scarcely comprehend it. He shot up straight instantly and fisted his hands in Atya’s shirt. His riding shirt.

“When?”

Gently, Atya pushed him back down, and laid down with him. At first, just his torso was on the bed, then his feet, even though boots were not allowed on the furniture. If Atya wasn’t going to mention it, though, then Ereinion wasn’t going to as Atya had started to pet his hair.

The last time Atya had held him like this, he’d thought Ereinion was asleep, and he’d been crying.

“This is why you were supposed to be asleep,” he said, “but I suppose it’s too late now. I ride out in an hour. I only travel to Uncle Kano’s Gap. I will be back soon.”

“But what if you’re not?” Ereinion muttered. Amme said she’d be home for dinner and then she wasn’t. She never would be again. And Ereinion didn’t know what happened, because no one would tell him, but if Amme left and didn’t come back, the same thing could happen to Atya.

Whatever that thing was.

At first, Ereinion thought Atya would lie to him, or not answer, as he always did. But instead, he merely grimaced and said, “If I’m not… if I’m not, then you will have your uncles, and you will have your brother. Celebrimbor will take care of you; he’s a good older brother. And like good brothers, you will always have each other, even if you fight. He’ll protect you, and when you’re older, you’ll protect each other. Understood?”

Gaping slightly, Ereinion nodded. Oh, this felt very solemn and very important. Atya never trusted him with things like this.

“Okay,” he said, and when he gave his ascent, Atya leaned down and kissed him again.

“Good lad,” he said, then stood up. “I love you. I’ll be home soon.”

“I love you, Atya,” Ereinion called at his retreating father’s back. “If you- if it’s hard to get home, I’ll sing and heal you.”

Atya gave him a wane, confused smile as he closed the door, and it didn’t feel like enough. Certainly not a good enough goodbye if… if. Ereinion was alone, now. He only waited until Father’s footsteps were gone to sneak into Celebrimbor’s room.

[arrivisting]

2022 fanfic meme

okay, @undercat-overdog​ tagged me for this, three weeks ago, so naturally I’m showing up at the end of january being like, this is the time for a fanfic wrapped. absolutely.

Word count for the year:  I wrote much more than I posted. Also I have a couple of ao3s! If I only count posted fic in 2022: 60,035. that’s actually a lot more than I would have guessed.

Number of stories posted to Ao3: 10. though I feel like I wrote nothing in 2022! 5 to vauquelin (elftrash), 4 to arriviste, 1 to [redacted]

Pairings written for:

on arriviste: all gen, though one was elrond/celebrian, elros/wife, another technically nerdanel/feanor, another aragorn/arwen.

on vauquelin (elftrash), one was finrod/edrahil, one caranthir/haleth, one fingon/maedhros, two gen (one of them technically celeborn/galadriel).

a big year for gen and canon het. hm! unfortunately I have a lot of truly demented m/m in the pipeline.

Fandoms I wrote for:  everything silm/lotr except [redacted]

Most popular story: a wild surmise (gen, silm. elrond’s ship accidentally finds valinor of the years of the trees rather than valinor of the end of the third age). the unfinishedness of this one haunts me. people were so nice!

Fic I spent the most time on: the fire’s toll (gen, silm. nerdanel, amrod. past nerdanel/feanor) I wrote half of this in 2021 so it feels like cheating to put it in the 2022 list, but honestly: it’s so easy to write the first half of a story. I never have trouble getting started. writing the second half was agony - everything from

They wed in the way Elves had, once, at Cuiviénen: quite alone, out in the wild, with no one to witness but themselves. They had made promises to each other, and to Ilúvatar. They had lain down together under the wheeling stars and neither of them had been capable, then, of imagining a future in which they thought each other less brilliant, less fascinating, less perfect; in which they loved each other less, or in which they parted forever.

I always wonder if people can tell where the join is! I feel like when I stop dead on a story for ages (months... years) it’s horribly obvious exactly where I picked it up again, but I never notice these things myself as a reader. there’s a 3 year pause in the fic I just posted last night. I feel like it’s glaring, but hopefully not.

Fic I spent the least time on: there are a few very slight ficlets on vauquelin. after that, the least time I spent on anything was conversely the longest thing I wrote in 2022, easily sever what never was one (caranthir/haleth, 17k). was written in a hot panic/writing fugue in three days. I was literally writing it up until a minute before posting (challenge deadline). I wrote it in an uber. I wrote it at dinner with friends. I wrote 10k of it in one day.

did I have only three days to write it? no. I had months. I didn’t use them wisely.

Favorite thing I wrote: a wild surmise. I would like it even better if perhaps I had had even one iota of patience and not posted the first chapter and then dipped, but that first chapter was no effort at all. banged it out in an afternoon. it just walked into my head. I will spend tortured months finishing the other two.

I also like next year’s words a lot (gen; elrond/celebrian, elros/wife) because it was a challenge to remix a perfect story and to do it any kind of justice but I think I landed the plane? I’m not much use at tolkien’s languages so I was like D: D: D:

Story I’m most proud of: the fire’s toll. getting it off the wip list after a year+ of being totally stuck was so satisfying. I’m not happy with the balance of it, but I am so happy I finished it.

Funniest: I don’t think I’m very good at humour. I didn’t write anything that light in 2022! dawn song was meant to be terribly light and sweet (finrod/edrahil, the adoption of gildor into the house of finarfin) and I think it is, but it’s not puns puns puns.

Kinkiest: [redacted]

Saddest: hm. this is harder to answer than the funniest one. I usually don’t think what I’ve written is that sad but then people are sometimes like, wow, I was stabbed here. probably the fire’s toll.

Least Popular: a bit of ivory (gen, findis, lalwen).

Most Cringe-Worthy: [redacted]. though everything I write I cringe about. then years later I will reread it and be like ‘this is so good! what a shame I can’t write like that any more.’

Favorite Opening Line(s):

“It’s unbearable,” Curufin said conversationally.

Maedhros glanced at him. There had been no conversation before that remark. Curufin had simply come to stand beside him, leaning back with exaggerated casualness against the same window-frame that Maedhros had selected, sighed, and thus begun.

“The way you stare,” he elaborated. “You look at him like you’re starving and he’s dinner. You look at him like a Man seeing one of the Eldar for the first time. You look at him the way everyone in Tirion used to stare at the Silmarils whenever Father wore them--”

“That’s enough.”

“My point exactly!” said Curufin. “It’s become tediously clear that the staring isn’t ever going to stop. Father and Fingolfin fighting didn’t stop it, though loyalty alone should have been enough to quench it. Twelve years of exile only made it worse. It was too dark to see on the night we swore the Oath, but I would still wager Caranthir anything he wanted to stake that you were making eyes at Fingon across the square nonetheless. Well, Father’s dead. So’s Fingolfin, if you were holding back out of fear of him. Home’s gone, and we can’t go back. What could possibly be standing in your way now but want of courage?”

“My way to,” Maedhros began. Then he stopped, breathed in through his nose, and said, “I’m not in the mood to entertain you trying to be clever, Curufin. Go away, and try not to stab anyone as you move across the room.”  

“You want him,” said Curufin, ignoring him. “If you think you’re being subtle about it, let me assure you that you are not. You have never been subtle. Nor, for that matter, has he. Finrod used to say that it was painful to be in the same room as the two of you. He said sharing the very air felt indecent.”

“I think,” said Maedhros, “that you had better not mention our late cousin to me. Stop this vein of argument and tell me outright what it is you want. You are too much the son of our father to help me to the bed of Fingolfin's son without a better object than my happiness in mind.”

“Oh!” said Curufin. “You are determined to think the worst of me, after Nargothrond. I will not argue with you, though I am sorry that you think so little of me that you will not credit me with a sincere desire for your good.”

This isn’t really an opening line as much as an exchange, but it popped into my head almost full-blown and then I had to figure out a way to finish the ficlet/land the plane.

Favorite Closing Line(s): I didn’t really write any banger endings. I like to end on a knifepoint (to the gut!). I like the way the fire’s toll zooms out and the catalogue of nerdanel’s retrospective takes over.

Top Scenes from Anywhere You Would Choose to Have Illustrated:

from 2022 fic? probably Dor Caranthir from easily sever what never was one. or the ruins of the Haladin steading. Sometimes a story is as much about the settings as the action.

Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to: something I haven’t written really at all yet? Finrod surviving the wolf (serious). Finrod’s very secret diaries spanning the years of the trees to his death (silly). truth serum fingon/maedhros slipped into himring to cause chaos by a thrall (serious).

New things I tried:

Me, 2005-2011: I only write RPF.

Me, 2011-2022: as god is my witness, I will never write RPF again.

Also Me, 2022: 🤡

Fic-writing goals for 2023: oh lord. I don’t want to set the bar too high.

finish a wild surmise.

finish & post the fic known only as ‘the bad fic’.

finish & post the next scion fic, alias ‘the finrod and gil-galad fic’, alias ‘this long abiding’.

write some goddamn porn.

finish and post at least one (1) of the ossified wips in the wip folder: outsider pov/’how like a winter’, or ‘legxit’, or, wow, I don’t even remember how many wips I have on life support

finish a stranger in my bed?

finish and post [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [readacted] [redacted]

[senalishia]

Okay, I finally got Nature of Middle Earth from the library and am giving it a solid read, and I am having more and more THOUGHTS as I go along so probably I should write them down.

SO, Nature of Middle Earth Liveblog!

I'm about a quarter of the way through now so thoughts on previous chapters:

Oh god, JRRT was trying SO HARD to make the math work on Elvish ageing and generations after Cuivienen, bless his heart.

Fortunately he came up with SO MANY different schemes for how Elves age that you can pick whatever sounds good to you! Nothing is canon! Everything is canon! Go nuts! (Personally I'm a fan of where he's like, actually the POINT of Elves is that they have more years of life experience, and dropped the nonsense about like 2000 or even 200 year childhoods)

JRRT, I'm sorry but when you say, Elf women "matured" and got married off earlier than the men, and didn't inherit or pass down authority, and always married out of their own clan into their spouse's, but there was TOTALLY no difference in ability or sexism among Elves, I DO NOT BELIEVE YOU.

Yes! Vindication for the idea that Ingwe, Finwe, and Elwe were young eager hotheads of a younger generation! Really digging the deep dive into the contention between the Avari and the Eldar.

Ooh, thoughts on half-elf maturation

Throughout all these different ideas about ageing of Elves, the things that really seem to stick around are the idea of separate "growth" and "life" years, and having one contiguous time for childbearing even if there is quite a large window of opportunity. Both good and interesting concepts imo.

Chapter XXI: Man, it's kinda depressing that Elves apparently have no joy in the coming of the future? But the slide into decline following a golden age is like THE theme of Tolkien's works, so not entirely surprising.

Chapter XXII: A birth year for Fingon?? (also I like the verbiage "awoke" for being born)

Chapter XXIII: FINGOLFIN'S CHALLENGE TO MORGOTH! IN VERSE!!!! I AM LOSING IT DJSNDJDIDNEJUXIKWMSJ

COME FORTH AND SHOW THY CRAVEN FACE

FINGOLFIN 'THY'S MORGOTH

HE GIVES ZERO FUCKS

I reiterate my assertion that Feanor must have been so proud of him when they met up in Mandos (like five minutes later)

More to come!

[red-riding]

I recently find your blog and it is amazing the headcanons of Thranduil and Legolas with a elf s/o that has curly can you do the same but with Feanor, Maglor and Maedhros?

Thanks for the request, here you go! Hope you like it! Also I expanded your request to all of the house of Feanor so I hope that's okay. 

Do you all like when I do smaller groups of head cannons like two or three characters or larger groups of characters like this post? Please leave your opinion in the comments. 

House Of Feanor with a curly haired S/O

𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓻 

Was immediately drawn to your curly hair when he saw you

he says the swirls in the fires of the forges while he works reminds him of the waves and twists in your curly hair

When starting out to braid your hair, Feanor never asked for help and remained stubborn. He values his pride greatly. 

What you don't know is he asked one of his advisors with curly hair for help on how to braid it, and made them swear to never tell anyone he asked for help. 

If anyone were to insult your hair, Feanor would challenge them to a duel and most defiantly win

𝓝𝓮𝓻𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓵 

Absolutely loves your curly hair and takes great inspiration from it

She has made you sit still for hours on multiple occasions so she could sculpt your luscious curls perfectly in her statues of you

When it comes to braiding your hair amazingly Nerdanel needed no help and instantly could twist your hair into the most complex and regal braids you have ever seen. 

If anyone hurt your feelings by teasing you about your curly hair Nerdanel would glare at them and then lead you away to comfort you

𝓜𝓪𝓮𝓭𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓼 

Finds your curly hair to be amazingly beautiful and one of his favorite things about you

His favorite thing about your curls is how calming it is to fiddle with them while you are cuddled up in his arms 

After going through all the torture he had to endure he finds solace and comfort in the little things and this include playing with and braiding your hair 

He may not be able to do the most complex elven braids to your hair due to only having one hand, he can still twist your hair into braids fit for royalty full of love and care. 

If anyone insulted you about your hair Maedhros would be amazing at comforting you, since he knows how it feels to be made fun of due to his scars. 

𝓜𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓸𝓻  

Much like his mother Maglor takes great inspiration from your hair

Your curly locks have been a motif in many of his songs and poetry 

he often will compare your hair to things of nature, like the roaring waves of the ocean or twisting winds atop a mountain

Maglor loves braiding your hair and never has an issue asking for help on how to braid your curly hair 

When he braids your hair every morning he will always hum a tune as he braids 

If anyone insults your curly hair Maglor would be quick to come to your defense with calm calculated sarcastic words to whoever insulted you. 

𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓻𝓶 

This elf loves your curly hair and how much it represents your free and strong spirt 

Whenever he goes on a hunting trip he will return with flowers he found to braid into your curly locks 

Celegorm will lightly tease you about your curly hair as long as your okay with it

However if anyone else dares to tease you on your curly hair this ellon will be ready to fight on the spot and not even Maedhros can hold him back. 

𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓻 

He loves your curly hair and thinks it is the prettiest hair he has ever seen, however this tsundere would never tell you that

He shows his love for your hair in other ways besides words

He will take great time and pride in braiding your hair and even braiding precious gems into it

if anyone insults your hair Caranthir will break into a yelling fit of curses and insults at whoever insulted you. He is even worse than Celegorm in that even all the brothers working together could not hold him back. 

𝒞𝓊𝓇𝓊𝒻𝒾𝓃

Much like his father, Curufin was immediately drawn to your hair 

He loves how unique it is 

Curufin has spent hours upon hours in the forges making clasps, and beads to braid into your beautiful locks

he even has made you a couple brushes designed specifically for your  curly locks since you tend to brake brushed every couple months (Does anyone else manage to break their brushes with their hair no matter how carful they are, or just me?)

If anyone insults you in front of Curufin he will immediately ask them to leave with a strong glare. 

Sorry I did not write anything for Amrod and Amras, I really tried. I don't know much about their characters and could not find enough information on wikis, if anyone knows of a good character profile for either of these elfs please leave it in the comments. 

[skyeventide]

Okay so for a Tolkien character Míriel and for other fandom I'm vaguely aware you used to write frev things, i THINK. So uhhh Marat. I am so sorry. Yes I chose Marat because his name starts with M also.

okay let's do both starting with miriel

How I feel about this character

I like her! there's a lot of little details about her that are great, and for however much I might mourn that her narrative story is cut so short, there's something I find very interesting in the fact that you can make a very solid argument for post-natal depression as part of her story. she's a pretty harrowing look into matters of mental illness in elves and in valinor as well, as well as one of those mother characters in the legendarium that imo inherit something from Tolkien's own mother (and his mother's death, as well). cool, 10/10, I dig her.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I'm gonna be big boring and say Finwe (and I do actually ship it), but also Indis if you spin it right, and Finwe/Indis/Miriel? the poly three-way is something I would like to read, or even write, but it's hard to do it in a way that I find satisfactory, primarily because some of the pivotal metaphysical conflicts of the laws and customs are centered around them and solving those is harder than simply working through interpersonal relationships. a challenge for another time.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Vaire and Nienna are up there, then if we are counting the obvious familial relationships also Feanor, and the platonic Indis relationship is also interesting.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I'm not sure I have any opinion that can be considered unpopular? I don't think there's any discourse around her that would warrant the definition. I have some strictly in-universe thoughts that I would like to loudly share with people of Arda who seem beyond incapable of letting this woman choose and keep the names she wants and her personhood seemingly co-opted for this and then that; and that's like, beyond the Therinde/Serinde thing, though of course it's related, but I'm referring to the Fíriel name primarily, which? "the one who died"? come tf on guys. but like I said, that's a bone to pick with the elves, not really an opinion per se.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

okay, hear this. she returns to life after Finwe's death, but before the kinslaying at Alqualonde, and leaves Vaire's halls. a story I want to read.

and now Marat under the cut

How I feel about this character

okay I should specify that I never wrote FRev, only read a lot about it, gobbled down other media, and read historical accounts, so it's a little hard to talk about how I feel about Marat as a character while restraining myself from like, tryna distinguish between the historical Marat, the reception of Marat in later literature, and the hmmm propaganda of Marat in his favour or against him. thorny issue. so I'll pick one thing: it's fascinating how the sanctification of Marat specifically happened through the visuals of Jacques Louis-David, whose knowledge of historical sources is ample and evident if you know where to look. I'm talking specifically about the position of his arm in the very famous painting. google any deposition of Christ and you'll see the exact same arm position, sooo how's that for religious symbolism in a secular icon

All the people I ship romantically with this character

uhhh probably Simonne Evrard, his wife. I've seen and read some plays where there's some wild writing of sexual tension via blade-penetration with Charlotte Corday (notable the Marat/Sade by Peter Weiss, no that's not a ship name it's how the play is shortened) but like, I enjoy it solely for how unhinged it is.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

France

My unpopular opinion about this character

the leopard print of his lapels is incredibly fashionable actually. also, he's not always as extreme as some detractors painted him if you go and read his actual positions and their development.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon

heh, good enough health to keep going coulda been cool.

[ambarto]

This might be a weird prompt, but could you please write Fëanor and Beren meeting in the Halls of Mandos, before Luthien retrieves Beren?

Feanor strode through Mandos. Other fear quickly moved out of his way. He was fire, in death as in life, and the other residents of Mandos did not want to find out how colliding with him may feel.

Anger crackled as he made his way through the Halls. Not unusual, Feanor almost always found himself angered since he had died. There was nothing here to do other than thinking, without paper to write his ideas or metal to bend into place. His mind was constantly full of thoughts, of Morgoth and the Silmarils and his sons and the mess Beleriand was. Were there trees in Mandos, surely they would have caught fire by mere proximity with him and his temper.

In truth, Feanor could not quite remember the last time he had not been angry in life either.

He did not pay a thought to all the other dead around him. Not until one failed to get out of the way.

“You seem to be in a hurry, Elf Lord,” the fea said.

A Man. Feanor had not met any in life, but he had seen enough of them in Mandos to recognize the differences between them and Elves. The fear of Men always seemed thin, as if about to dissipate.

Clearly Feanor had ended up crossing through the Halls dedicated to Men while he was deep in his thoughts. No matter. He sidestepped the Man, whose stay here would be brief. Not like Feanor’s.

“What is your name?” the Man called, unexpectedly.

“Feanor, son of Finwe and Miriel,” Feanor replied.

“I see. I thought you may be.”

Feanor turned back to him. “You did?”

“I heard tales that your spirit was as fiery that it burnt your body when you died. I thought them exaggerations, but I see now that it might have indeed been so.”

“I’m surprised a Secondborn knows of me.”

“Beren, son of Barahir is my name. And I could I not? I doubt anyone in Beleriand will ever forget about you so long as your sons roam.”

“Are you familiar with my sons?”

Beren’s figure shimmered. Perhaps he shrugged. It was hard to tell. “Had the wolf not gotten to me first, perhaps it would have been them to send me here.”

“Why?”

“For starters, because they have camped on Morgoth’s doorsetps for centuries and have yet to recover one of the Silmarils, but I and my beloved were easily able of ripping one of out of his crown.”

“You and your- what are you talking about?”

“My beloved. Luthien of Doriath, most beautiful of the people who walk the world,” Beren said, his voice wistful. “My wife, if only briefly. Daughter of Thingol of Doriath. When I asked for her hand, he told me he would only consider allowing it if I brought him a Silmaril from Morgoth’s crown. I did. I don’t believe your sons were pleased.”

“Those stones are not yours to take.”

“You may bring up your concerns with Thingol, if you ever happen across him. He was the one to set the price, not me.”

Thingol. Little more than a name, for Feanor. He had died too soon in Beleriand for Thingol to be a problem, and from what Feanor had heard Thingol had proved himself a significant problem for his sons and all the Noldor. Feanor had had scarce love for him, and now he was told Thingol demanded Silmarils as a price for his daughter.

Thingol would have to hope to stay out of Mandos, or Feanor would have words with him.

“Your sons are certainly loyal,” Beren continued, “but I must say that you could have educated them better.”

“Don’t insult me, Beren son of Barahir. Or them.”

“Is it then a custom for the Noldor to steal women and attempt to force them into an undesired marriage?”

Feanor’s spirit crackled. “What?”

“The light haired one, Celegorm I believe his name is,” Beren said. His voice had been calm, conversational so far, but anger laced it as he spoke of Feanor’s son. “He was quite infatuated with Luthien. He kidnapped her, with the help of Curufin, and tried to force her to marry him. He may have succeeded, had she not escaped him.”

“Lies!”

“What reason would I have to lie to you?” Beren replied. “We are both dead. I will depart this place soon, many times has Mandos already told me that I cannot linger long. I speak nothing but the truth.”

“Do not challenge me, Secondborn,” Feanor snarled, taking one step towards him.

Beren laughed without mirth. “Or what, Feanor the great? I have faced Morgoth and his most foul servants. I have lost my life, and I have lost my love. What would you do to me? Scorch me?”

Feanor turned on his heels, and left. He had no interest in listening to the- the lies of some mortal!

He knew he and his sons were not well liked. Far from it. Many of their actions were called cruel, and Feanor - Feanor was not an idiot. He knew very well not everything that he had done could be called right. Slaying the Teleri in Alqualonde was from a good action, Feanor was well aware of that, regardless of what Mandos seemed to think.

But sometimes, evil is necessary. Sometimes one has to be cruel to reach noble goals. The slaying hadn’t been done for the sake of pain. Feanor had had his father to avenge, and Morgoth to dethrone, and the Silmarils to retake. He had hurt and killed, yes - but he had not done so because he enjoyed it. It would have been much preferable to avoid bloodshed. He could be cruel when he had no other choices, but he would never do cruelty for the sake of cruelty. He would never- steal a woman for his own fancy, or other pointlessly evil actions. And neither would his sons.

...wouldn’t they?

[allthatglittersisnotgoldrush]

Author Interview: Victoryindeath2 (by Mythopoeia

Thank you @abadpoetwithdreams! I hope you don't regret the last question you asked :D

1. You are responsible for creating the characters of Frog and Sticks! What canon Silm event are you most excited to see from their child perspectives?

Soooo many things—but I am interested to see how they will feel when Mae is back on his feet, a warrior more deadly with his left than he even was with his right, the sort of man who can in canon create the Union of Maedhros. The children have seen Maedhros at his lowest, seen him tormented and crushed into the earth in the cruelest of ways. They also saw how he could be his best even when there was no hope or light for him—he protected them and was kind to them and loved them. I am just interested to see how other men’s and women’s opinions might change as Maedhros moves into the next phase of his life, and how the children will, in some ways, always see Maedhros as their Russandol.

Sticks: yeah I knew he was cool before you all realized it

Frog: *drops a rock in Mae’s left hand and curls up in his lap* tell me and my pet rock a story Mae

Mae: I actually have leadership things to do....

Sticks: you owe us for all the stories you didn’t tell us back in the Bad Place

Mae: *tells them a story and Fingon finds the kids sleeping under Mae’s arms twenty minutes later*

(There is also a non-canon event sometime in the future that I want so VERY badly but guess I can’t say because of spoilers *sighs*)

2. We often joke about how this AU is basically our own crazy version of a Silm tv series. What are some of favourite moments in the series so far that stand out to you as particularly cinematic?

There are so many moments, some of the wondrous and stunning variety, and some of the quiet and beautiful....but here are a few that leapt right to my mind:

a. Maedhros and Fingon parting the last time before Feanor divided the families almost forever! Maedhros with his hair in the sunlight on his horse and the line, “see you on the other side, cano!”

b. Gosh DARN it Mae on the cliff, with Morgoth offering him the chance to leap to his death, and he doesn’t take it *cries*

c. FINGON’S CHILD OF THE WOLF MOMENT WHERE HE TAKES MAIRON OUT (ALSO RIGHT BEFORE WHEN MAE GRABS AT HIS ANKLE AND TRIES TO GET FINGON TO SAVE HIMSELF)

d. Maedhros riding into the thrall camp and basically falling into Gwindor and SLINGING AN ARM AROUND HIS NECK YES HUGS ALL AROUND YESSSS

e. Look Ceili fic I know we talk about it all the time but I am here to talk about it again, especially the moment where Mae pulls Caranthir out on the dance floor and then they all dance together and everyone ends up in a pile on the floor except for Mae who just stands over them all laughing I think doubled over and there is so much good energy in that scene I NEED IT ON SCREEN

f. Personally I like to think that Celegorm stalking his way into a club in New York City and beating the living daylights out of Eol was cinematic

g. Maedhros having successfully argued Huan’s way into the journey west, stumbling all tired like up to the stairs, and meeting Nerdanel there, and resting his head on his mom’s neck. The darling tol bby

h. MAE ATTACKING ULFANG FOR THE SAKE OF HIS BROS, GOING FROM DEPRESSED BROKEN BABY WHO HAS LOST ALL HOPE TO DEPRESSED BROKEN BABY WHO HAS LOST ALL HOPE BUT STILL WILL FIGHT FOR HIS BROS

i. Bby Mae lying on Feanor’s chest ;;;;;;;;;;; before Feanor became the worst

j. Can’t even remember what fic it was at this point but there is a dream? Mae has? Of like....the sea and red sun or something? It was a lot

k. There are many many more moments and I am mad that I can’t remember the one that stood out to me recently

l. ..........the whole fic Seven Card Stud

m. MOONLIGHT GUNSLINGER MAE AND HOW HE TOTALLY OUTCLASSED MAIRON

n. Every hug and brotp and found family moment ever. I have addictions and there is never enough of what I want on screen

o. THERE ARE MORE SPECIFIC ONES BUT I HAVE TO STOP AT SOME POINT DON’T I

3. Walk me through what an ideal day would look like for Caranthir?

The MOST ideal day would be Caranthir waking up in his little closet bedroom in Formenos and realizing he just had a horrible nightmare, and also realizing that he still has his mom and ALL of his brothers. And then at the breakfast table Feanor says something like “wow I’ve been stupid in a good many ways, and a rotten dad because of that, good thing I have recognized my flaws and shall now be a better person, also Mae you can stop going to live in the city if you want, just stay here with your brothers. Also you know, Caranthir, even though you’re still my least favorite child, I’m proud of you. And not just because these are the best pancakes I have ever tasted.”

Then Caranthir probably helps his mom in the garden, gets some quality one on one time with Mae when Mae helps him make a pie, Mae reminds him how special and good he thinks Caranthir is, and Celegorm and Curufin ask Caranthir to join them for fishing. Not that Caranthir necessarily wants to do that, but he does want to be asked. Then Amras and Amrod ask him to help them with sums, so that he feels like a helpful big brother, and without being asked, Maglor takes out his fiddle and plays the slow-moving, peaceful song that Caranthir loves and Maglor despises because it is not challenging enough

4. What is a character POV you have not written yet about but would like to?

I would like to write something from Maeglin’s POV—I feel a powerful urge to protect that lost boy. He’s had an odd and often terrifying life and he needs a break. Good grief imagine having a mom like his mom, imagine Morgoth commanding you to call him uncle. Ew. Anyway, he’s exactly the sort of character I usually adopt as my son. An angsty sad boy without much future, who needs LOVE

5. If you could recommend only one fic from each author (including yourself, of course) what would they be?

HOW TO PICK?!

TolkienGirl: wayyyyy too many to really choose from but I have to go back to the beginning and say “news, breaking” because of the way it introduces my Feanorian boys, and also because of Mae wearing a flowered apron one minute and then a half open leather vest the next, with his glorious hair tied back!

Mythopoeia: I feel like I have to say “those gathered beneath” because it was so DEFINITIVE of our favorite Irish family, and also Turgon is a great narrator (but since I always talk about this fic I shall also add another, lesser known perhaps: “save ourselves unaided” because it introduces Haleth and more people need to appreciate Haleth and Mythopoeia’s Haleth is SO GOOD)

Victoryindeath2: “a certain slant of light (where the meanings are)” because it was my first Caranthir fic, and so it holds a special place in my heart

Bonus Q: The Feanorians are now a KPop group. What are their hair colors and roles?

THE WAY I CHOKED ON MY LAUGHTER WHEN I FIRST READ THIS QUESTION

I ALSO GOT WAY TOO CAUGHT UP IN THIS SO IF YOU ARE AN AU READER WHO DOESN’T CARE ABOUT KPOP IN ANY WAY YOU CAN STOP HERE, I WON’T BE MAD. On the other hand I think I have really good answers so maybe you should continue lol

Maedhros: He has to be a coppery red-head, doesn’t he? Maybe something of the red color that you once told me you wanted Heeseung to try. He would make a great leader, but ALSO. Also I think that he has had enough stress in canon in and in our AU, so I really just want to give him the opportunity to be merely the eldest hyung, who everyone goes to for comfort, for hugs and advice, and who supports the leader quietly. He is a good vocalist and can maybe rap in a pinch? but we put so much emphasis on him as a dancer that he HAS to be the dance leader. Obviously. Is widely acknowledged as the visual of the group

Maglor: Longish black hair, maybe midnight blue or deep purple. Has tried several different hairstyles and regretted half of them. He claims a specific aesthetic in hair and dress is necessary for him to compose the group’s songs, and while he gets teased by everyone for this he also writes amazing music so? It works? Is definitely a vocalist. His vlives consist of him playing every instrument known to man, and half the time Mae is sitting in the background listening with an awed expression on his face—till he falls asleep. Maglor can’t decide if he is pleased by this or insulted

Celegorm: Usually rocks blond or silver hair, but one time some fool insulted Amrod’s pink hair and the next thing you know Celegorm had pink hair for three months. Probably disparaged Maglor’s mullet phase but tried it once himself as a penalty for a game in a Run Feanorian episode and kinda thought it wasn’t half bad.

Celegorm is the “I don’t follow what the company says” member, “screw the rules if they aren’t good for my fam.” He is also a sick rapper and his diss tracks and mixtapes are things of beauty. He also clearly frequents the gym and will toss an annoyed member—most likely Maglor, but sometimes Curufin—over his shoulder any chance he can get. Has definitely done pushups with Amrod or Amras on his back. He and Mae swept the ISAC games

Caranthir: Typically goes with brown/black hair, which only throws the fandom into more of an uproar when the rare occasion arises in which he actually dyes it some other color. Probably went mint for a music video and Curufin started calling him mint choco boy, which offends him deeply as he is (sadly) on the side of “mint chocolate ice cream tastes like toothpaste.” He’s a vocalist with a rougher voice that is surprisingly pleasing to listen too.

Speaking of surprises, Caranthir never quite understands his own popularity. He didn’t like to do vlives by himself for ages, until Mae encouraged him to do cooking and baking vlives, and now he does one once a month on a schedule. Fans are putting together a book of his recipes

Curufin: He does intense and striking hairstyles and colors, and is probably the most likely to do black hair streaked through with red, teal, green, gold, white, etc. He claims to be the visual of the group and Mae is the one member who always agrees with him. I’d say he is also a dancer, one almost as good as Mae but with a different style, and he has a quick and sharp rap. He is heavily involved in the production of their songs over time.

Here is the thing though—I think, in this better non-canon non-Gold Rush AU universe, that Curufin could be the leader. See, Feanor is not gonna be the company CEO loll. Fingolfin is. And Fingolfin mentors better than Feanor EVER could. And Curufin is a sharp lad, very smart and crafty, and if he could just be convinced to care about all his brothers/group members like he does about himself and Celegorm in the AU, and if he just has proper guidance, allowing Mae to assist him in struggles, going to him for support, I think he would be an excellent leader

Ambarussa: Amras and Amrod have tried every color and color combination under the SUN, and they often coordinate with each other either to match or complement. Amras sometimes gets tired of this, preferring to stick to the general group color scheme, and when that happens Amrod just says fine be like that and goes off and does his own thing. Sooner or later though, Amras always gives in and joins him once again.

The twins obviously have all their hyungs wrapped around their little fingers, even Maglor who is driven insane by them crashing into his room shrieking and giggling when he is trying to write music or run a very serious vlive. As far as their musical talents go, I love when maknaes are ridiculously well-rounded, and these are Feanorian maknaes, so I’m gonna say they can both dance, sing, and rap. People have placed bets on whether they will grow as tall as Mae (spoilers, they won’t, no one ever will, he’s the tallest in Kpop world)

Huan: is the team mascot, and lives in their large dorm with them because Celegorm said so

Anddd that’s all folks

[notaheronoravillain]

Headcanon for Manwë and his happiness?

-@outofangband

Okay, I will be specific about this topic but here is the summary and conclusion : Basically the Solace and no conflict must be ensured for Manwe to be happy and furthermore, his reputation should be good. If those things are ensured, he is A+okay, cal, reserved and happy in my HC. The detailed version is under there and I devided this since it is very long.

**When you read this, please consider that I am a ‘true neutral’ alignment by some faith of mine and I really try my best not to act upon my emotions in real life but I think I already failed at that when I was writing this. But well I really want you to know that I don’t hate Manwe at all since he is just a character and can’t do no harm to me at all.**

(CW:This thing contains my own lifelong experiences and trauma as an INT- person, when you read ‘the comparison between Manwe and Melkor’, there it is. Please pass it if you are triggered but I can’t explain this properly in short message but : they just tell INT- people to shut up and care for their feelings but they don’t do the same for them. Just demanding them to do so but not giving them in return.) < - Also with a biased view on MBTI stereotypes.

First, I want you to know of my HC for Manwe’s personality to talk about this. Personality takes a big part of the definition of one’s ‘happiness’, so I really needed to tell you this.

I really think Manwe is a stereo typical INFJ so that means he has a big tendency to seek solace and peace. Those people tend to be reaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllly sensitive around there environment surrounding them and I can really tell this since one of my closest friend is an INFJ himself. So, basically he needs solace and peace to be reseved self. Since introverts are said to be ‘tend not to express their thoughts or feelings outwardly’ and most INFJ people tend to wear mask very very skillfully not much people will notice if he is shaken or not, but he himself knows that so he will try hard not to lose himself so he will try hard to keep calm, which can mean, he will ‘moderate’ inhabitants of Valinor.

INFJ traits to wear mast masterfully makes him look like an innocent, calm, kind and fair ruler but in fact, those things are mask after all. Mask can resemble one’s true self for some parts and that can be intended but anyways, I don’t think he is the ‘good’ person to be a king because we all know what he did to Feanor. Even if he couldn’t get an idea to solve the problem, it was his responsibility to make things right not just oversee that and cry over Feanor threatening Fingolfin . < Yes, that is the moment what I thought  Manwe tried really hard to gain his good image over all people and he was afraid of his mask being slipped off. After the first kinslaying, Namo cursed the Noldor who had fled to Endor and I think if Manwe was really the good, kind king as he claimed to be, the curse may have been subtler than it should be.

So, secondly, this is why I think he grew up to be like this in my HC : Since the beginning of the time, his older brother, Melkor made a mass every single time he was with his kin and Manwe, the future king needed to clam down those angered by Melkor (Although I don’t think Melkor is evil and he is just a doomed idealist and just an outcast with a big horn effect on his reputation) so he became really sick and tired of his responsibility by the time when Melkor fell down the both of the lamps and Varda, who really does everything to block in Melkor’s way (I love her so much and you know this) keeps on and do Manwe’s work instead of him and that makes her the most revered of the Valar. The mighty Queen, who is able to do everything for her people. Who chose to be the shield against the threat. Yes, Manwe is the King but I think Valinor is a society with constitutional monarchy. The King is the symbol of Eru’s blessing all over Aman, the true ruler is his consort. And I think that can explain why those people in that world calls for Varda more than Manwe. He may be a good advocate for Eru’s will since he is made to be so but the ‘good’ in Tolkien’s world is just an ideal and I think it is not suitable for the politics. (And sadly, politics needs some necessary evil and I think Varda was really good at sugar-coating that with the Dogma. Which Melkor failed miserably due to his Horn effect of his reputation) By this, he can still take his mantle, and do nothing to trouble himself and his name, the blessed and perfect. If someone does nothing, nothing changes and it is peaceful. They can manage to keep their own good reputation as it always was. So I think that was why Manwe tended not to move by himself if compared to Varda and Melkor. His older brother needed move on just to be a king of his own right so he had to fight the world so he will have a big notoriety over his name and since that one is his bro and they resemble each other in their essence it will be much wiser to be like this. If he makes a move and fails to get a nice result, it will ruin his name because of this and this proved to be somewhat right by the Silmarilli-incident.

For more specific about the comparison between the brothers, I think Melkor, who is an INTP in my HC has realllllly bad social interaction with others since they don't mind what other's feel about their words and tend to speak the 'facts' (*but really, feelings never change all those facts I'm not sorry about this as an INTP_INTJ person and those angered ones never care about the feelings of people who told them the facts which annoys me to hell) And as many younger siblings watch them grow as an outcast because of this, the younger ones tend to have a really good social image. They never do that and 'care' for other's feelings so they all called as the 'good' ones. Some may say that can be a part of the leadership but to be a leader it needs much more than that and also, if someone is a thinker they really tend to think over other’s mechanism over feelings (and if they don’t they are not going to survive at the cold, hard reality. I ensure you this since I am that person.) they know that things by head even if they don’t really understand ‘why the hell are those people are angry over my actions’ but ‘to keep myself in better state, I will just shut up and pretend to understand you.’ (but seriously, those angry reactions makes them confused but no one ever cares for them and just tell they are bad and respect others feeling but they NEVER respect them after all and also their actions are likely to merely hurt just temporary ‘feelings’ not cause some big catastrophe over others’ life but yes the others tend to give them a big PTSD because of this and blame them not to respect them.) <That means, yes Melkor may learn the feelings to survive and if you really need to be a ruler you need to be a good strategist youself even if you have some other ones. So I think Melkor was a more of a suitable king who makes a much better politician and in my HC Varda is the best of these things. (+Also I always thing if Melkor was not brainy one himself, he wouldn’t even manage to survive. He really need to be cunning as hell and is really likely to be a good intellect. Otherwise, he won’t be able to manage all those things even if he have other people -including Mairon and Langon- helping him< For Manwe, he has more supporters than his bro and he has Varda, Yavanna and Aule on his side.) <<He really need to be cunning as hell and is really a good intellect in canon.These thing can be summarized like this : if you have a older sibling who is a thinker and an outcast you learn to have a good social image by not replicate the other one and that maybe considered as a part of the leadership but the leadership is not only defined by that and you need to think very hard to be a good king. (Yes I know that tendency to use feelings over the thinking is never about the intelligence but you will need more of a thinking ability to rule over since the politics are not the game of the good wills but more like the game of the desire and power. Basically the SILM is written by the elves and if there are people, there is politics without doubt. Also religion is likely to linked to the kingship in the old days so those to can’t be separated from each other.)

+I think Manwe somewhat resembles Enlil from Sumerian mythology and that means, Melkor really reminds me of Enki (not as pervy as Enki in my HC but still) and if you know the story of the mythology, you will understand why I told so. Stern rulers really needs lots of unfaltering devotion from his people and that really need a nice image and grand authority over them. Manwe is undoubtedly the sacred and his authority is ensured by Eru himself so it is likely to be easy to maintain if there are just Ainur in Aman, but with elves that was not easy at all. I think Manwe never had expected the challenge after he got his brother under himself and he must be frightened to face the situations so he really wanted to avoid it. I think the biggest reason why Feanor and the Noldor left Aman was this. If he is the King, no matter how he is shocked and can’t think how to make things alright he NEED to be calm and strong as the ruler. There is no consideration for this because that is how the responsibility of the kings work. Noldor can be frustrated of his reaction and they may think he can’t save them from Melkor and the threat of darkness. So some of them chose to find freedom and journeyed through the grinding ice : No one can protect them in Aman and that is the same in Endor, but at least there is a freedom in Endor not like in Aman.

Yes, in conclusion, Manwe will be Happy after all these conflicts are over since there is nothing wrong in Aman but I think that is too fragile to maintain. 

[tolkienrsb]

Hi, TRSB-ers!  This is our last showcase post before reveals (if you think you have been missed out, please double check the previous showcase posts as tagging has been a bit awry thanks to Tumblr being its usual self - if you still can’t find something you submitted for the showcase, contact a mod ASAP).

We’re finishing off with a TRSB stalwart who has supported the event since its inception, the wonderful...

ZHIE

( @z-h-i-e )

I was introduced to Tolkien by my husband (who is also in the fandom and write/arts under the name Smaug) when we first started dating, though someone made a Glorfindel reference prior to that, and, that's a fun name to say, and I remembered the name, so I put it together when he started to read the Hobbit to me on dates we had, and he finished off reading the last chapters of it to me on our honeymoon.  I saw the Rankin and Bass adaptations just before the live action films came out -- and my alpha fandom is ThunderCats, so there is a bit of a connection there.  A mutual friend of ours convinced us to go to the live action Fellowship because he was able to get tickets for $1 each, and after seeing it, the three of us and another friend started playing D&D, and my sister was in love with both Legolas and Boromir, and one brother began to cosplay as Rumil, and my mother would roleplay as Galadriel at family gatherings, and now it's basically a family thing.  No one gets into this family without passing the Tolkien test now. ;) So I've been here for over half my life, and I don't have a primary activity because I do a little bit of everything.  Non-fannish hobbies...what are those? Pets. I already wrote a LOT, but, there is a pet who shares my current writing space, and that is Felix the very tiny parrot. If you've been with me in vc on Discord, you've heard Felix. He's obsessed with the bird in the mirrorverse and also post-it notes. Mainly with perforating all of my post-it notes. He also likes to fly up to my Gondolin diorama and knock over my Glorfindel action figure.  We've had words about this behavior.

Where can we find you?   You can find my stories here https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie  but you'll find me on Discord in my kingdom - https://discord.gg/HtuZZ4N

How are you joining in with TRSB20? I thought this would be everything except betaing but then a thing happened and I guess that, too.

Citius, Altius, Fortius

Mature story; I tend not to use warnings, but there is some dubcon and there are scenes related to a character's eating disorder, and probably some other things I'm not recalling on the fly

Info about your piece: This is a coming of age story that follows Aredhel, Turgon, and Fingon, interweaving their experiences together over a period of a few months as they each learn about themselves, consider their family relationships, and engage in some romance with their chosen partners.  I wrote this for NaNoWriMo in 2008, but I didn't start posting it until 2010 and I didn't finish until 2014.  This was very much inspired by the 2008 Olympic Games, which I spent a lot of time watching.  It was the last major piece I finished while living in my previous home, which was the place where Bunniverse was born and the place where much of what I wrote in this fandom was conceived.  I still haven't found a good replacement for whatever was special about that location, but there was certainly something extra creative about the view of the pine trees and the northern exposure and the balcony there.  About 10,000 words in, I was having breakfast out with my husband, at the time my other co-ML for NaNoWriMo, and he asked how my story was going after we ordered and I looked at him and flailed with "I'm 10K in and I don't have a plot! This is Valinor! Nothing scary happens in Valinor before it all goes to hell!" and he told me I needed a bear at the door. So we plotted out how to get something that was at that point just character study and conversation to a story with some substance. (And, that year was the best year I had with writing, clocking in the 50K+ for this, plus another 13K on a story which has sadly become mostly lost about a relationship between Feanor and Fingon, but I digress.) I had been asked a few times who each of the parts of the title is meant for, and I never really answered clearly, but I created a piece of art this year specifically for the Summer Showcase that goes with this story and covertly answers that question. I am aware that there are bits with the names that are a hot mess; I started with Sindarin, I had people complain it should be Quenya, I switched back, I had complaints about that compared to what's in the Silm, I eventually just decided, screw it, it's a free story, do what you will with it, I have other tales to write and I can't remember which way I left it all, but I think 'Felagund' even sneaks in there at some point, so, eh.

Top creative tips/words of wisdom for fellow participants:  Come over here.  Come closer.  A little--whoa, hold on there, let's just take a measure...okay, just stay there at six feet.  Now, where was I... advice. 

Don't stress.  Have fun. Make friends. Be proud of what you accomplish--even if something happens and you have to drop out, because a lot of people can't even make it to the step of trying.  It is not a failure if you manage to learn something from it.  For those who see the journey through, enjoy the reward of seeing the finished collaborative project. Creating is usually such a solo adventure, which makes challenges like this special.  Also, if you're trying to figure out, does my story need more Glorfindel?  The answer is always yes.