#feanope

[mirkwood]

feanormelkor/ feanope 31

Hi thank you for the ask!! And sorry for the delay <3

Prompt 31 : After a small rejection

Pairing : Feanor / Melkor

Fëanor can sense the Vala’s presence the moment he enters the forges. 

The air, previously heated by the forge’s flames, abruptly turns icy. The sudden chill makes the sweat on Fëanor’s skin feel clammy. He doesn’t need to turn to see the intruder. Familiar with Melkor's constant lurking, he knows when he is there, watching him silently.

He finds himself instinctively searching for him in every corner, in every dark room.

Gripping his hammer tighter, he wills himself to remain composed. 

“Whatever brings you here,” Fëanor says, his tone devoid of any warmth or welcome, “I have neither the need nor the time for it.”

A moment of silence fills the space between his words and the darkness behind him. As if the presence he felt was nothing more than just a trick of his imagination. 

But still, he waits. 

And there it is, a faint hum that morphs into a deep chuckle, reverberating through the forge room. 

“I doubt you truly mean that, Fëanáro,” comes the response, teasing and casual as if Fëanor is his friend.

It is a cruel melody, a rumble that could shake down the foundations of Fëanor’s resolve. He hates the way it makes him feel. Weak and defenseless against that voice dripping with saccharine deceit and lies.

Turning sharply, hammer still in hand, Fëanor faces the part of the forge where the fires' light doesn’t reach. In the darkness, two fiery eyes meet his gaze.

Melkor finally steps into the light, yet Fëanor can only spot his pale face, cloaked in darkness as he is. Fëanor straightens his back and folds his arms in front of him, waiting for Melkor to speak his lies once again. 

“I have a proposition for you,” Melkor breaks the tense silence while looking around the forge with an innocuous curiocity. Fëanor knows what he is looking for, and he also knows well that it is not here. 

He remains silent. 

“We could achieve great things together,” Melkor says, approaching the bench where Fëanor’s new project sits untouched. “Your brilliance and my insight could create something unparalleled.” 

Fëanor's expression hardens as he turns to face the Vala. "I have no interest in your schemes, Melkor,” he rebukes. “I work alone, as you well know. Nothing can change that.”

Melkor falls silent, his gaze lingering on Fëanor’s workbench, as if it is the most interesting thing in Arda. For a moment, Fëanor wonders if his words have gone unheard. 

“You are making a mistake, son of Finwë,” Melkor speaks again and his voice holds a dangerous edge to it. Gone is the friendly lilt and the false sweetness of it. “You would do well to reconsider my offer.”

Fëanor scoffs, his anger fully resurfacing. “Save your threats. I know what you are and I will not let your tainted hands or your insight near my creations,” he says with a sneer, the fire in his eyes blazing. 

Melkor turns to face him, and beyond the bitter disappointment and frustration, Fëanor can see destruction and death in his steely gaze. 

"You are a fool, Fëanor," Melkor murmurs, stepping away from the workbench and closer to Fëanor until he is mere inches away. "But a brilliant fool."

Before Fëanor can react, Melkor leans in, his lips brushing against Fëanor's cheek in a quick, provocative kiss. The unexpected contact sends a shockwave through Fëanor, and he jerks back, his face flushed with a mix of fury and bewilderment.

Melkor steps back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Do not keep me waiting, Fëanor,” he says. 

Fëanor holds his ground, refusing to look away. It's a battle of wills, and he's determined not to yield. He waits until Melkor chooses to leave, his cloak melding into the darkness as he departs.

Just as quickly as he arrived, Melkor is gone, the heavy iron door of the forge clicking shut behind him.

Fëanor's fingers linger on the spot where Melkor kissed him. He can still feel the warmth of his lips.

A fire ignites in him, a fire fueled by rage and a new unspoken, unacknowledged spark.

Send me a ship and a number

[ibrithir-was-here]

Hey, I love your Silmarils babies au, but it sparked off an au idea of my own. Since you typically need two parents, my brain went, “what if Feanor contributed half, and then the next person to spend a lot of time with the Silmarils contributed the other half?” Accidental parents Feanor and Melkor is what I’m saying

Oh noooooo

Feanope as parents, I don't know who'd be in more trouble, the kids, their parents, or the world xD

[feanope]

Sexy Manflesh 2022, thanks The Rings of Power

[uisgeart]

My first prompt for @fengqingaction is complete!

Special thanks to @/feanope on twt for the “soulhate” prompt! <3

[oshikasa]

compilation of recent works!!

the first piece (nanyao sparring) is for Gotcha 4 Gaza, organized by TGCFAction on twitter! my prompt was from user feanope 🍉 you can donate to Care for Gaza and send a prompt to an artist/writer, so i recommend checking it out before the event ends on 3/16 (theres mdzs and svsss versions of the event that are coming up soon as well)

as well as hualian and sqq with bingpup hehe..

[takonxmz]

xichen rekt 🔥😵‍💫💦 a-yao victorious 🥛😌✨️

🌿💛💙 xiyao for @feanope 🙏🏽🫒🕊

[cilil]

The Elder King's New Clothes

AN: Written for this thread by @feanope, based on @thecoolblackwaves' idea that Manwë could use his feathers as clothing. Might have turned out a bit naughtier than that, but oh well. My dearest fellow Manwë fans, take this as a tiny treat🤍

ഒ Characters: Manwë x Fëanor ഒ Synopsis: Manwë shows Fëanáro the true beauty of his fána. Fëanáro studies him. ഒ Warnings: Nudity, sensuality ഒ Quintuple drabble (500 words) ഒ AO3

"You asked me about my feathers, Fëanáro." 

"I did, my lord." 

Fëanáro turned when he heard the voice of the Vala and froze in place. 

Manwë was walking towards him, his fána unclothed. Bare were his pale feet that only just touched the floor as he went, bare were his lithe figure and slender waist that were usually concealed by flowing robes, bare were well-shaped shoulders and his swan-like neck, freed from collars and heavy jewellery. 

The only thing protecting the Elder King's modesty were his feathers. They were no mere accessories, they were part of his fána like his hair or his limbs, and had been grown and preened with great care to cover what needed covering. 

A second pair of wings had sprouted from the middle of Manwë's back, in addition to the mighty pair growing from his shoulder blades, and they hugged his form from behind, one covering his chest, one his crotch. Between long flight feathers Fëanáro espied a layer of soft down, reminiscent of a small cloud obscuring what lay underneath. Long tail feathers swayed from side to side as he walked, gently and elegantly. 

Fëanáro swallowed. "I take it I may study your form then?" 

"You may." 

"Good. I was hoping for that." 

Manwë smiled mildly in response. 

His wings were relaxed, Fëanáro noticed when he ran his fingers through his plumage. If he wanted to, he could surely move them and see what was underneath. Feeling bold, he pulled on the wing covering Manwë's chest, and it released its embrace, feathers rustling as it withdrew and folded by his side. 

The mysteries of the Elder King's fána were his to uncover. His mouth watered. 

"Should I remove my other wings too, Fëanáro?" Manwë asked.

Fëanáro couldn't help feeling like he was acting coy, though his mien betrayed nothing. Calm, serene, slightly curious at most.

Then again, he believed to have noticed in the past how little the Vala's mien shifted, always kind, always pleasant. Only strong emotions could change his demeanour. 

He would get a reaction out of him, Fëanáro swore to himself. 

"Yes, please," he said confidently. 

As if emerging from a flurry of white, Manwë revealed himself to him fully. "Like this?" 

"Yes. Perfect." 

Fëanáro was already walking around him, admiring the regal curve of his spine and backside. Intrigued, he reached up to place his hand at the base of Manwë's wings, soft down tickling his fingers as he traced bone and muscle underneath the skin. His efforts elicited a pleased hum that permeated the air around them, filling it with warm resonance. 

"Do you enjoy this?" he asked. 

"Very much, yes." 

So it was a sensitive spot, Fëanáro noted, then began rubbing, fondling and lightly scratching the area like he assumed a bird would do, and Manwë fanned out his wings in enjoyment. 

The sight alone was breathtaking. He could count every single feather if he wanted.

"Continue please?" 

And now he had the Elder King begging for more. 

Thanks for reading! I'm too tired to write more tonight, but if you want more of Fëanor fondling bird men let me know ♡

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @saintstars @singleteapot @urwendii

[olderthannetfic]

Have any thoughts on this?

https://www.tumblr.com/feanope/752886169447104512/some-people-confusing-ao3-with-goodreads-the

It’s mostly about a user being completely upset about being blocked after writing reviews on some works.

--

Sounds like performance art.

[a-kingdom-or-this]

Some Type of Skin - FengQing fanfic

My first #fengqing / #fengyao prompt for the @fengqingaction Commissioned by @feanope❤️

🏹 Rated E 🫣

⚔️ 3.5k

🏹Fu Yao (and Feng Xin) have a size kink.

⚔️Post canon Mu Qing got stuck in his Fu Yao form. Both got through it.

[foxyyaoguai]

MDZS Rareship Fanfic Recs

I felt like recommending some fanfics for my favorite MDZS rareships. Please read the tags for all of these carefully!

Jadecest - The Ritual by @kianspo - To be forged by @foreheadkissesforzewu-jun - your heart is glass by survivorcurse - This Heavy Joy by @tellingetienne - everything by qirongsmom

- In This Broken World We Choose by @kianspo

LingCheng - Incest Burner by MoDaoZuHolyShit (orphan_account) - Shared Loneliness by @feanope

Niecest - Prey by @jaggededges123 - Iridescent by @jaggededges123 - this figging threadfic by @jaggededges123

XiCheng - Song of the Souls by @rx-mercury ZhanZhui - It's All Too Much by ItDidntHappen

XiZhui - Fifteen Lines by @tellingetienne

XianZhui - I Will Make of You (Another Believer) by ItDidntHappen

WangXiZhui - weight, counterweight by shallots - Intimate Knowledge by @iamwestiec - This threadfic I wrote

WangXiXian - Embers by @xantissa - Magnificent by Anonymous - Jades' Lotus by keela_1221

WangXianZhui - Brace Yourself by idfic_palace

WangXianYu - old wounds by BloodRedCarnation Feel free to add your own recommendations/rareships in the comments. :)

[kitwilsonsass]

Hi! It's soothingmoonlight, I'm bringing you more fanarts of C&C that also include a few works of dad Curufin and uncle Celegorm. I hope you'd like them!

https://www.tumblr.com/idahlrillion/163248733907/curufin-was-next-i-think-i-will-try-and-do-all?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/idahlrillion/148688452462?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/idahlrillion/148397995657/quality-dad-curufin-comforting-tyelpe?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/silmaspens/646064393575120896/feanorian-week-day-five-the-works-of-curufin?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/silmaspens/182729334995/middle-children?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/lucife56/676757339458666496?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/lidoshka/613561384253440000/feanorianweek-dia-3-un-d%C3%ADa-con-el-t%C3%ADo-celegorm?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/lidoshka/183628309919/cuidados-parentales-celegorm-yo-insisto-que-debi%C3%B3?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/soothingmoonlight/713906338422505472/belegurth-thinking-about-uncle-celegorm?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/mathiaarkoniel/114407497672/curufin-and-celegormplaying-shadow-of-mordor-on?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/giganticmarshmallow/639062280428044288/do-you-walk-in-the-meadow-of-spring-do-you?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/ales-art/188519141160/i-upgraded-and-partly-redrew-a-very-old-sketch-of?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/nailsinmywall/676875375181250561/little-tyelpe-compares-hands-with-his-favourite?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/anattmar/697844927982370816/curufin-and-little-celebrimbor-after-f%C3%ABanors?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/acommonanomaly/160240073933/from-elesiannes-story-ponds-puppies-and?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/orntlgst/666938037199110144/their-purpose-dark-they-would-pursue-king?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/orntlgst/665877027070541824/then-heard-ye-not-that-he-is-gone-that-celegorm?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/feanope/78552408397/tyelkormo-and-curufinwe-by-tuuliky-omg-this?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/atarinke/64975966781/celegorm-caranthir-curufin?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/soothingmoonlight/706174351892971520/leitiko-art-curufin-in-nargothrond?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/soothingmoonlight/719163367439368192/tolrone-celegorm-and-curufin?source=share

i love my daily copious amounts of yes boy art

i mean silm art

[mirkwood]

Wip snippet

I was tagged by @queerofthedagger thank you sooo much !! 🫶🏻

I am actually so excited for this one since it's my first feanormelkor fic. Basically this one is all about Melkor being obsessed with Feanor and how badly he wants him. Cue Melkor being Melkor ❤

I don't have an actual title just yet but im calling this one "3 times Melkor wanted to taste Feanor and one time he actually did". I think it's self explanatory, isn't it?

Here's the first part of the 4th time, just be warned about a bit of blood mention and Melkor being Weird :

Gothmog, Lord of the Balrogs, is standing in front of him, all fire and flame. He brings with him a stench of blood and ash and despair.  So huge is he that even he, Morgoth, the foe of the World, the darkest and most formidable of the Ainur, has to lift his head to meet his gaze. Truly, one of his greatest creations.  “He is gone,” Gothmog announces, his deep voice thundering through the vast chamber. The echo of it is the only thing that can be heard. Every creature is silent, watching and waiting for their Lord to speak.  But that is exactly what he did not want to hear.  Something new comes to the surface. Another feeling, strange and foreign, one that makes itself known in the back of his throat.  Regret. Disappointment. It almost tastes like defeat. It tastes like the night Feanor denied him. “What of the body?” asks Morgoth, his focus abruptly shifting to the blood dripping from Gothmog's whip. The droplets collect into a small puddle around him, and then slowly dissipate from the heat radiating from the Balrog’s body. His jaw clenches with such a force that for just a moment he thinks it’s going to break from the strain. His loose grip tightens on the armrests of the throne, as he struggles to restrain himself. His fingers dig deeper into the material and the dull pain of his burns surges back stronger than ever.  He doesn’t care. All he craves is to taste him.

Tagging @sauronpilled @afaramir @elvain and anyone else who wants to share their writing!!! Please consider yourselves tagged fr

[feanope]

THEY REALLY DEADWIFED CELEBORN

[grimfeywizard]

Tag game- Current

I was tagged by @stressfulsloth thank you!

Current time: 5:46pm

Current activity: putting my shoes to dry after I got caught in the rain

Currently thinking about: the cheesecake I want to make today (or try xd)

Current favourite song: liquid nights by miracle sounds

Currently reading: Pete walker - complex PTSD: from surviving to thriving (good book, do recommend)

Currently watching: does daily town of Salem video from pipetron count?)

Current favourite character: all time favourite is William t. Spears, currently in the rotation of blorbos are Raistlin Majere and a couple of OCs

Current WIPs: listen, listen, it's still work in the progress, just very slow progress, ok? Thus being said I'm currently working on home system for my ttrpg games; a bas-relief of Raistlin (that miraculously survived moving houses); the Dragonlance slow burn fic "Fake It Until You Make It" (check my pinned post 👀)

I tag @kanawolf @wei--wuxian @ifuckglorfs @nikkistrations @feanope and whoever else wants to participate!

[grundyscribbling]

@gellalaer tagged me for last line tag...

Oh, yes, that will definitely improve matters, Turukano snorted. I feel so much better knowing you’re expecting the worst too.

I was mostly thinking of you, Ingo retorted. I’m pretty sure no one is aiming at me.

A glance at Ingo showed one of his most infuriating grins.

Cheer up, you’re not on your own this time, Ingo added more seriously.

Tagging, should they wish to play, @cycas, @jane-ways, @independence1776, and @feanope

[forerussake]

How the Fëanorians deal with loss

Fëanor fights it. He refuses to acknowledge it, because acknowledging it makes it real, and it isn’t. He runs away from it and charges at it with equal ferocity. His mother might be gone, but Fëanor will never lose her as long as he keeps her memory alive. His father might’ve died, but Fëanor will never lose him as long as he himself still lives, because he is his father’s mirror image. Fëanor fights loss at every turn, because it is the thing he’s most afraid of and as long as he keeps fighting, it will never drag him down. He dies, but it doesn’t matter, for he has left his mark on the world. His body will be gone, but his legacy will never be lost. Being alive in people’s memories is the only life worth living.

Maedhros accepts it. He hates the feeling of loss with a passion, but it has become a part of him. As if to make up for the loss of his hand. He carries that pain with him wherever he goes. The guilt, the gut-wrenching nausea of knowing that everyone he’s ever loved will die eventually, because they’re all cursed, lays heavy on his spirit. Sometimes it becomes too much to bear, and he rages, and curses the world and the Valar and Eru himself, and he screams until his throat goes numb. And he moves on. Because it doesn’t change a thing. He could run away from it all he likes, but it doesn’t bring his loved ones back, and it doesn’t help protect the ones still left alive. Loss is a part of Maedhros as much as his visible scars are.

Maglor ignores it. He goes through the motions of life and acts like he’s unbothered. He smiles, but the smile never reaches his eyes. He keeps silent and moves on with a grace none of his brothers can muster, not even Maedhros. But inside he’s cold. He’s angry, broken, scared. He will never admit any of that to anyone, so his opponents on the battlefield are the ones who bear the brunt of his inner turmoil. They, and his harp. During the day he plays what is expected of him. The ballads, the great songs of glorious battles, of heroes and villains, life and death. He leaves his loss for the nights. At night he cracks, his mask of cold grace breaks away. At night he plays his best pieces. The laments he plays into the early hours of the morning to relieve the unbearable ache in his heart. They never really do, so Maglor goes silent and moves on.

Celegorm rages at it. He screams and curses and fights anyone who gets in his way. People learn to stay out of his way. Even his brothers. He hates it when people try to comfort him. He doesn’t need comfort. He isn’t sad. He’s angry and needs something to work his anger out on. Celegorm is always angry. He hides it well most of the time, but sometimes he explodes. When he does he gets himself out of people’s ways. He goes out into the wild on his own and doesn’t return for days on end. When he finally does return his hair is a mess, twigs and mud everywhere, his clothes are torn and dirty, he doesn’t speak for a while. Whether that is because he doesn’t want to or because he has forgotten how to is anyone’s guess. Sometimes he’s gone for weeks instead, but none of his brothers ever worry. It’s just how he is. Celegorm loses, gets lost, then finds his way home.

Caranthir laughs at it. He scoffs and turns his back. He will not let it hold him down. He has better things to do with his time than mourn. Taxes don’t collect themselves; treaties need the signatures of both parties; trade requires the same. Unlike those, life doesn’t bargain. It’s really quite simple and refreshing. Life only pays and collects what’s due. So he smiles his brilliant smile, collects his payment, pays in kind, and moves along. He’s called the dark and has a temper to match, but never because of anything he’s lost. His sense of humour is the best of all his brothers. He can laugh at anything. Even his own misfortune. He laughs and gets dressed in his impeccably cleaned and pressed, expensive clothing, and moves along to sign another treaty. If occasionally Caranthir does show up to the council table with dark rings under his red-rimmed eyes then no one bats an eye.

Curufin uses it. His loss is but a thing that makes him stronger. He grows with it and lets it teach him what it will. His pain is but a momentary thing. An annoying ache that leaves him hollow for a while, and then takes him to heights as yet unknown. He thinks he’ll fall, sometimes. He thinks a time will come when he has climbed so high the only way is down. But until then he’ll use his losses as the stepping stones that lead him to the top. Even if every single of those steps tears at his heart, cries out for him to stop. You’re hurting me. Forget me not. Please stay! He moves along, and every time a silent tear escapes that he can’t stop, he takes it and he crafts it into something else. A thing of beauty, a necklace or a bracelet, or a dagger with sharp edges he can stab into the backs of anyone who gets in his way on his silent stairwell to the top. Curufin’s loss makes him stronger. He does not forget, but he cannot stay.

The twins are loss personified. One is already lost, the other remains behind to feel the loss forever. 

Nerdanel cries. She cries when she first loses them, and then each time she feels that aching hole within her soul grow larger. She cries each time she feels that one of them is gone for real.