Might as well post my MSV fic and MSV pinch hit here, too.
Recognition, for @alanastarveil
E, 20k words, Fëanor/Fingolfin, Fëanor/Finarfin/Fingolfin A half-resentful King Finarfin deals with his re-embodied brothers and their disquieting behaviour. He uncovers something both shocking and enthralling.
A delirium took him. Suddenly unfettered, he grabbed viciously of Ñolvo’s braids, delighting in their velvety cedar darkness, and yanked him. He wheeled around his head, snatching Fëanáro’s mouth and kissing him assertively, covetously. They are mine, he thought, high on triumph. Mine is the crown, mine is Lord Manwë’s favour, mine the ruins of the Ñoldorin polity and mine the inchoate hopes of a healed future, and mine, mine of all sons in this fallen House of Finwë, still a flesh that cradles the lost Noontide. And they two are mine also; re-enfleshed into my care, placed into my hands to host and guide them back to this capricious feast that is life. My brothers.
No Law Nor Love, for @ecofutural
E, 10k words, Fingon/Maedhros, and past: Fingolfin/Maedhros, Fëanor/Maedhros, a whiff of Fingon/Fëanor.
There is not enough left of Maedhros to sate Fingon. Too many horrible histories have taken too heavy a toll.
“I told you earlier, did I not? Curvo is nary a thing like our father was. Even I am little like him. But you, Astaldo—” The slap, backhanded and firm, echoed across the ashlar in ricochets. Maeðros smiled his ruined smile.
