#feanolvo

[starshadeemilyart]

So we meet under the mistletoe…how…unfortunate

But you know what must be done?

Featuring Feanor’s light necklace from last year’s Christmas drawing

[balrogballs]

just joining in the joyous hater circle to say i truly do not think tolkien will waste his time spinning in his grave over fëanor and fingolfin exploring each other’s bodies, or the concept of fingolfin bottoming, or him spelunking in non-Anaire-scented caverns when there are so many other things for him to be spinning in his grave about, such as:

omegaverse

elves lay eggs au

elves can’t poop theory

airpods

lothlorien nudist camp

comrade maedhros

‘balrog balls’ being in people’s vocabulary

there not being an R-rated beren/lúthien film starring penelope cruz and javier bardem

arundhati roy winning the booker prize in 97

elrond’s slutty little grieving corset in rotk

gandalf x galadriel

‘gil-galad son of melkor’s anal haemorrhoid secretions’

bitofearth drama from the early 2000s

tiktok

[dreamw0rms]

wip feanor/fingolfin fanart for “a history of duels” by @antlered-vixen

[antlered-vixen]

Twenty-minute birthday sketch for @atlantablack, for that one-shot where Fingolfin loses his mind at Feanor wearing his colours.

[deckofmanymore]

Had some fun drawing that scene for my Fëanor-gets-taken-instead-of-Maedhros wip, which has definitely been done before but I don't care

[queerofthedagger]

Snippet Sunday

I was tagged by @annarobots @onereyofstarlight @luthnethril and @endless-natterings, thanks all!! <33

I'm (very belatedly shh) working on my Sibling Fest submission, so have some Fëanor/Fingolfin last time bits 😌

“Náro,” he says again, his voice heavy. “I will be wed tomorrow.” Despite himself, Fëanáro’s jaw clenches, his fingers flexing. “I am well aware. The preparations are hard to miss. So was the invitation, and my father’s endless lectures about a united family, and—“ “Náro.” A third time, and now Nolofinwë sounds truly irritated, the furrow between his brows that ever Fëanáro has been most skilled at drawing forth; that ever, to his delight, prefaces a thunderstorm. “This will be our last—we have to stop. We have to stop doing this. Can you not—“ Fëanáro knows what Nolofinwë is asking. Knows that what they have both long since pretended to ignore is split wide open between them, and that it is only wilful pretence that lets them continue to act like this means nought. That this is a game, a pushing of boundaries, a mixing of fighting and pleasure, at whose end they still cannot stand each other much better. But how to admit that he considers a brother whom he fucks behind closed doors? How to admit that he fucks his brother, and it is not mere need to prove something of which he has long since lost sight? How to admit— “Can I not what?” he asks, at last. “What do you want me to say, Nolvo—oh no, brother, please do not wed, so that we may continue our ill-advised degeneracy behind closed doors? Do you want me to fuck you slow and gentle, tell you that it has always been you, truly, that I will ruin your wedding and leave my wife, so we may run away to live life—“ Nolofinwë reverses their positions with such force that Fëanáro slams into the wood panelling, all air punched out of his lungs. This is more like it; this is how they began, what they know, what is, in the end, all they ever ought to be to each other—Nolofinwë’s features contorted in fury and hurt, Fëanáro flashing his teeth like he is just waiting to cause more of the same.

Tagging: @atlantablack @antlered-vixen @too-feanorian-for-this-shit @seaemberthesecond @balrogballs @gaydhros @nycterisg @nerdanelparmandil @fatbishonen @idleleaves and anyone else who'd like to! <3

[ladysterndust]

Snippet Saturday

Thank you @mnimeresponding for tagging me! Since in my recent posts I’ve somewhat touched on Fëanáro’s relationships with his children, here’s a snippet from a new chapter of Unreal Unearth about Fëanáro’s and Nolofinwë’s different approaches to fatherhood. And yes, since this is Nolo’s POV, this fragment contains a whiff of toxic masculinity and sexism. As a treat (well… I mean that as a warning, of course).

How much Fëanáro’s sons had grown! How strange it was to find him just as gentle with them as in their childhood. Without even noticing it, Curufinwë was ruffling Nelyo’s shoulder, smoothing Kano’s hair, pressing a kiss to Tyelko’s temple, or drawing Moryo close by the shoulders. In truth, even the youngest had overgrown such tenderness. And didn’t Curufinwë think that he indulged his sons? How could he raise men, strong-willed and independent, if he was bestowing affections so carelessly? Perhaps, if he had a daughter… Aracáno glanced at Finno and Turno, who sat beside him with propriety and composure, yet still managed to exchange remarks with their cousins. Did they notice how differently affection was shown in Fëanáro’s household? Did they feel as though they were deprived of something?  For Nolofinwë had always cared for distance. There were boundaries to be kept, he held, and subjects that should not pass freely between father and child. A parent was not a friend, but an authority to be respected, and thus Aracáno did not tolerate opposition in matters he deemed fundamental. Beyond that, he granted his scions the freedom to form their own opinions, to make their own choices, to learn from their own mistakes. Yet whenever the children turned to their father for counsel and support, Nolofinwë provided it readily. Fëanáro was speaking to his sons as if they were his equals; without a note of admonition, with disarming cordiality. He was abundant in love, lavish in tenderness – and overwhelming, overpowering, claiming all things private. He wished for his children’s happiness too eagerly to let them shape it – for he had the mightiest hands. He was imperious, uncompromising, and always right. There was an irony in it: equality demanded sincerity, but became impossible when Curufinwë was nothing other than himself. His charisma, his genius, his wholeheartedness compelled the love of those Fëanáro had beckoned into being. His fiery temper and all-consuming will taught them to tread carefully, to fear misstep, to read the subtle changes in their father’s expression, to blame themselves for his sorrows and angers. The piety Nolofinwë witnessed seemed to be at odds with how simple and affectionate Fëanáro was with his children. It wasn’t. Fëanáro was laughing at Maitmo’s jest, turning sharply, brushing a strand of copper hair behind his son’s ear – and Nelyo was arching into the touch. The sparkling joy of Fëanáro’s attention was cherished with such trepidation because it was unpredictable and willful. Once, Maitimo found himself bereft of it. Of late, Maitimo had addressed Aracáno with marked formality, almost always in his father’s presence, almost never as “uncle”.  Evidently, Nolofinwë enjoyed Fëanáro’s unique resentment – it did not extend even to those who bore a striking resemblance to him. In the house of Curufinwë and Nerdanel, Findekáno and Irissë were always received warmly. Perhaps Fëanáro did not regard them as a threat, or assumed that the grandchildren of Indis were not as monstrously culpable in their birth as the children of Indis. At least, when the strictest part of the gathering had passed and Tyelkormo slipped away to the opposite side of the table, his father paid him no heed.

And a few no-pressure tags: @leopardchic79, @ffigwit, @lissomelace, @moringottocake, @abomination-unto-nuggan, @dreamyshiftyaching,

I’d be very happy if you shared your current wips!

[arofili]

kings and things to take by storm

Fëanáro and Ñolofinwë, and the secret Oaths they swore. i. neither law nor love

at long, long last: the first chapter of my FëaNolo fic is up! what began as spitefic and transformed into a Fëanor Lives AU, this story is full of fealty, betrayal, sex, and drama. have a read - but mind the warnings!

Rating: E | Creator Chose Not To Warn Relationships: Fëanor/Fingolfin Characters: Fëanor, Fingolfin Word count: 2.2k

READ IT ON AO3!