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#feanor speaks
actuallyfeanor · a day ago
It’s evident that an increasing amount of fandom content on the internet is created by people who were never bullied in school
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nailsinmywall · 5 months ago
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modern silm elves
a week ago i read @imindhowwelayinjune insane 320k words modern silmarillion AU Dancing With My Punchlines fic and these were the result (and there's more to come because i am obsessed and i cannot stop)
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commandermollyobrien · 7 months ago
A conversation that absolutely happened in Valinor:
Fëanáro, coming to dinner late, with his sleeve on fire: Sorry I'm late, I just got the palantíri working again-
Makalaurë: Atya, you're on fire. You do know that, don't you?
Fëanáro: Oh yes, I've been working like a man possessed all day-
Nerdanel, horrified: Fëanáro, your arm!
(Fëanáro looks down, realizing he is on fire. Maitimo throws a pitcher of water onto Fëanáro. The flame sputters out.)
Fëanáro, excitedly: Do you know what this means?
Makalaurë: That you set yourself on fire and didn't notice?
Fëanáro: That the flame retardant mixture I developed last week works! It must have been burning for a good ten minutes and it isn't even burnt halfway through! Perhaps I ought to set the other sleeve on fire and see-
Nerdanel: Fëanáro, if you set yourself on fire deliberately, I will institute divorce proceedings.
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tar-thelien · 2 months ago
Hear me out!
So Melkor was in Valinor when Maedhros was a child and he was bff with Feanor so what if he brought Maedhros small homemade toys when he was at Feanor's home to talk shiny stuff?
Maybe he introduced Celegorm and Orome? Nah...
But like chance are high he also taught Maglor to play and sing. Maybe that is the reason Maglor was good at singing songs og power and could speak the Ainurs language?
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dialux · 6 months ago
I’ve been going on a reading binge of all your Tolkien Women fics, and I cannot stop thinking about Indis. As a consequence I’ve created a headcanon that hurts my heart and I am going to inflict it upon you because this is clearly your fault.
Indis is one of those people just meant to be a parent, it fits her so well everyone knew it was just a matter of time before she became one. And once she gets married she tries so hard to be there for Feanor despite her own grief, but he won’t let her in. She has her kids and everyone congratulates her on having four (four!!) wonderful children, but in her heart she has five. Because Feanor might not have let her into his heart, but she certainly let him into hers, and she will always think of him as her eldest son.
It will haunt her to the end of all days and beyond, that he was always her son but she could never truly be his mother, and on her bad days she thinks that every catastrophe and death of the first age can be laid at her feet for not succeeding in the one thing everyone said was her speciality.
Okay, so a) fuck you, b) fuck you, c) fuck you. This story is basically just saying that, only in more euphemistic terms, anon.
Once, there were three: a woman with fair hair, a man with fair eyes, a woman with fair skin. 
The woman with fair skin is captured and taken by the Dark One to his fortress, where she languishes for long weeks in grief and agony. She is not turned, even as those captured alongside her become evil beings, twisted and gruesome and cruel. Melkor wonders why this woman- this limpid-eyed, weeping girl- can withstand what no other has managed.
He does not get the chance to find out.
The woman with fair hair storms Utumno. She drags her sister out alongside whoever is left of their people. But the fair-skinned woman collapses only a few days’ from the chill of Utumno, and she shows her sister the secret she expended all her fea upon: a child, a fair-haired, fair-eyed, fair-skinned girl.
Intyale the Fair-Haired buries her sister Indis in a cave of glittering light. Then she takes the child down to her people, and she bids her brother, fair-eyed Ingwe, to watch their niece. Indis he names her, for the mother she will never know, and he raises her as his own daughter, this girl who bears the brightest things of all his family.
She is the daughter of all three of them. Of Indis the Slain, and Intyale the Bright-Speared, and Ingwe the Grand. Indis bears one woman’s name and another woman’s steadiness and a man’s strength. She is the princess of the Vanyar. She will always be that.
She will always remember how desperately her mother fought to keep her alive. Hidden in Utumno, chanting song after song of hiding and cleaving and darkness, straining for one more moment- one more moment- to keep the little babe at her breast alive- defying Melkor himself- 
The Vanyar suffer the greatest of the losses to the Dark One before ever Orome comes to them. They- none of them, not from the eldest down to the youngest child- will ever trust Melkor ever again.
She was born in grief. 
The Doom that Namo places- it is shocking, it is pitiless, it is cruel. But then Alqualonde still rings with the laments of the Teleri. But then, Finwe is dead. Melkor has taken not just one from Indis’ life. 
She was born in grief, and, as one by one her children too learn that taste, she wonders: Perhaps the doom is my own.
When she is very young, she asks Intyale: What did I get from my mother?
And Intyale- this, Indis remembers very, very well- had paused, and considered, and then said, Her silence.
From Indis her mother, she receives silence. From Ingwe, she receives the knowledge of ruling and leadership. From Intyale- 
-from Intyale, she receives the strength of will to remain unbowed.
Indis loves Miriel with the kind of love of a calf for its mother: overwhelmingly, adoringly, all-consumingly. She spends hours with Miriel, learning to weave those tapestries, hands tangled in thread of silk and cotton and wool, eyes affixed to the wall just as often as she watches the silver spirals of Miriel’s hair.
The Noldor tend to craft to show their passion for the world, but Indis has nothing of that: she is a fair dancer, a well-versed scholar, a singer of surpassing talent. None of them call to her more than the rest.
She aids Miriel often, now that the building of Tirion is almost complete. Indis enjoys sitting with her and with Finwe, sipping a salty-hot tea as the light changes from gold to silver; she often falls asleep there, slumped over in her chair, and returns only at the second Mingling to Ingwe’s abode.
This is what they all forget about Miriel’s death: it was slow.
Slow and lingering and painless. She had dignity unto the end. Finwe clutched her hand until it could not be held. Little Feanaro is the only person in all of Aman, they say, who has lost his mother.
Indis bites her tongue until it bleeds, and does not speak.
Intyale dies upon the hills of the Ered Luin. Indis is still young in those days, not quite an adult and not quite a child. Three children are gamboling near the water, and there is- something. Not quite something, but not quite nothing either. Intyale realizes before anyone else, and flings herself forwards, bare-handed.
The water boar is driven backwards into the river. Indis grabs the children. Two maiar run, grasp the situation, calm the boar down with songs. Intyale emerges from the river dripping.
She collapses upon the sand, and Indis is there in heartbeats: Intyale is the only mother she remembers, distant and proud though she may be. When she dares to let her eyes drift to Intyale’s chest, everything tightens up inside of her. Her mother is rent open, from breast to belly. 
“No,” says Intyale, and reaches up, and grips Indis’ chin tighter than she ought to be able to, so close to death’s door. “Look at me, little one. We are more than our flesh.”
“You are dying,” whispers Indis, trembling.
“Yes,” says Intyale bluntly. “Call for Ingwe.”
Not for the maiar, who might save her. And not for the Valar either. Intyale has given up: Indis doesn’t realize this until later, but her mother- her aunt- would not have called for Ingwe had she not been determined to join the sister she watched fall.
Intyale forces Ingwe to swear to care for Indis as he would his own daughters. Then she asks for her spear, and to be burned until even her bones show no ash. She tells everyone who her sparse belongings must go to. And then, fingers clutching the bone-spear, she dies.
(Feanor, too, burns. Half her family burns to death, Feanor and Fingolfin and Fingon and Turgon and Maedhros and- and- and-
That fire is not of Finwe alone. Fire can be taught to catch, and Feanor never burned quite so brightly to anyone else as he did for Indis and her usurpation of his sainted mother. No: the fire is Indis’ inheritance, and Indis’ gift.)
Intyale does not tell anyone who her bone-spear should be given to. Indis finds herself holding onto it, and somehow never lets go.
This is what they forget: Miriel was the first to die in the peace of Valinor. 
The second is Finwe.
Feanaro has lost his mother, but Indis will become that mother if he will allow it. She would wish for nothing more. Of course she wishes for nothing more. 
But he does not.
Indis watches him when he does not realize. She can see it- the grief, the loneliness. He is a little boy, and Finwe is not half the father he would wish to be, and there are impossible things in this world that Indis wants- her mother, her Miriel, her peace- but most of all she just wants little Feanaro to be happy, to know happiness and joy and trust in it instead of fearing the joy will turn cold and dead in his arms.
Miriel had been- quickly angered.
So had Finwe. So do most of the Noldor. Indis is patient enough not to pay much attention to it. 
Well. She is patient.
Miriel had been easily provoked into greatness. A few insults, a carefree comment- Miriel would sit at her loom and weave, something ever-greater and ever-better. Even now, the finest gown in Indis’ keep is one that she received from Miriel the day after she spent hours insulting Miriel’s taste in fabric.
Indis would have done that to her in those awful weeks after Feanaro’s death. She would’ve gone in and insulted Miriel to within an inch of her life, made her so breathless with rage that Miriel would have levitated out of her bed to strike Indis about the face. 
But Este’s healers- called in when the labor lasted for more than two days- refused to hear of it, and Indis could only watch as Finwe’s face went whiter by the hour and all they heard from the sickroom were little Feanaro’s wails and the healers’ murmurs. She obeys the Valar: she watches Miriel fade into Lorien, and never return.
Little Feanaro is all that’s left of Miriel. 
She is certain that he’s very much like her, too.
Feanaro thinks that his dislike of Indis comes from her marriage to his father. Perhaps the dislike deepened into hatred then; Indis does not know. What she does know- for she’s ensured it- is that Feanaro hated her well before her marriage.
(“I expected better of you,” says Indis, once.
Feanaro is three years old. His eyes are Miriel’s in shape and size and beauty. Indis, determinedly, does not flinch. 
“I’m just doing with Rumil taught me!” he exclaims.
“In Valmar,” says Indis, “children learn their letters by the time they turn a year old.”
Feanaro flushes red. “I don’t like these letters. They don’t make sense.”
“Then make your own,” says Indis, careful not to let sympathy seep into her voice.
She does not smile when the news percolates through Valinor of Feanor’s Tengwar. She does not smile, but oh, oh: how she wants to!)
This is what they do not see: Feanaro is young, and while fire is forever dangerous, while fire is forever alluring, it is too easy, far too easy, to stamp it out. Especially when it is young. Especially when it is small.
Indis would have been the shelter to that little flame if he would have allowed it. But he will not, so all she can do is throw fuel onto the fire. Chaff and dross and dried straw: insults and backhanded compliments and petty slights. If Feanaro will not let her protect him, then she will build him so high that none will ever be able to strike him down.
(Letting him die was never an option.)
Finwe dies, and they leave, and then Feanaro dies, and then Findis disappears, and then Nolofinwe dies, and then Arafinwe comes to her, for the first time since his father’s body burned in Tirion’s courtyard.
“We have been given leave to go to Beleriand,” says Arafinwe quietly, solemnly. “Morgoth shall be defeated and thrown into the Void. The Vanyar shall all come, by King Ingwe’s decree.”
“Is there something you wish to ask me, then?” asks Indis gently.
Arafinwe swallows, one reflexive jump of his throat. “Will you join me?”
Indis rises. Steps away. Goes to her bedroom and plucks it from the wall, and returns in time to see her darling son’s shoulder slump with frustration. 
“I will not,” she says. Arafinwe jumps, startled. Indis steps closer to him and presses the bone-spear into his palms. “I will not return, Arafinwe, to that land. Already it has taken much from me. I will not offer it more.”
“Take this,” says Indis. “It is your grandmother’s.”
Surprise glitters in his pale eyes. “I have a sword.”
“This has already held off Morgoth once,” says Indis. “There are tales that will never be told, of the courage of the elves that never saw the Blessed Isles. Intyale Bright-Speared was your grandmother named, and well-named was she! This spear held Morgoth back long enough to release prisoners in the depths of Utumno before ever Orome saw us, long enough to let Intyale’s sister flee. Long enough for Intyale’s sister to hand the child in her arms over to Intyale.
“The sister’s name is Indis,” says Indis. “I was that child. I was named for her.”
Arafinwe stares at her. “You speak so rarely of them.”
“I’ve no desire to relive tragedy for the rest of my life,” says Indis flatly. “Now come. You’ll need to learn how to use that, if you wish to hold Morgoth hostage!”
Perhaps she began this, when she chose this path.
Perhaps she could have averted this.
But Indis is the daughter of Intyale, and it will be her bone-spear held to Morgoth’s throat at the end of this awful, deathful road, and if nothing else- if nothing else- she has the will to remain unbowed, this girl born in the shadow of Utumno, this woman who watched all those around her fall as wheat before a scythe, this mother who would rather her children loathe her than die, this daughter who has lost both mothers and knows, bitterly, the whole of that unfathomable loss.
That is what she tells Feanor, finally, when he returns to life.
There is something thoughtful in his gaze. He nods, and returns, a week later, and when she blithely tells him that his sons have inherited his monotonous fashion sense, Feanor flushes, and then pauses, and then says, carefully, “I’d rather it be monotonous than Finarfin’s gaudiness,” and Indis drinks her tea- salty-hot, just as she likes it- and she says, smiling, “I am glad you can be taught.”
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so! couple of months back, me and family went on holiday to a self-catering cottage in the backcountry, and when we weren’t having a grand old time getting lost in the wilderness i spent my free time, not writing for this blog, but watching random youtube videos. somehow this led me to watching a lot of six the musical animatics. i dunno, i’ve always liked horrible-histories-esque modern retellings of history, and i was reading a historical fiction series about the six wives of henry viii anyway
trouble is, this stupid blog has been keeping the silm muses much more active than they otherwise would be, and that was even more true when i was trying to churn out a new headcanon every day. i got interested enough in six to start looking up fanfiction, and i guess the settings were similar enough the muses started talking to each other? and then i remembered that ‘seven brides for seven brothers but it’s the fëanorians’ post, and then i thought that even those hellspawn would probably still make better husbands than henry, and then my brain worms started matching them up
so yeah, that’s how this list of which son(s) of fëanor i’d pair off with each wife of henry viii as portrayed by six the musical came into existence (and specifically as portrayed by six the musical, even if they’ve been dead for half a millenium trying to pair up actual humans who actually existed with my goofball interpretations of someone else’s ocs feels skeevy, and also like it would require way more work than this list deserves.) there’s actually an au growing in my head to support a context in which these couples could happen, auuugggghhhh. anyway, i’m sorry
catalina: caranthir. admittedly this was the last one i came up with, there’s a bit of pair-the-spares going on here, but i do feel like they’d have a very functional dynamic. given how temperamental they both are they argue less than one might expect; they’re good at setting and negotiating boundaries, and while they snark at each other constantly whenever they have business to take care of they go in as a Team. catalina also feels like she’d absolutely refuse to tolerate hellbeast bullshit, so naturally i’ve stuck her with the most down-to-earth of the bunch. they’re not the loudest, but they’ll build a solid place to return to when shit starts exploding
anne: curufin. she is a tiny bundle of playfulness and cheek and pure blazing ambition, and i think curvo would vibe with that. they would scheme together, they’d go into every social engagement with a plan and try to manipulate everyone around them, with mixed results. they’d definitely get up to, if not the most shenanigans, the shenanigans with the most collateral damage, and i feel like their skillsets would complement each other in a way that would nicely maximise that damage potential. whatever their big project as a couple turns out as, it’ll rapidly escalate into Anne and Curufin Burn Down Valinor. or early modern england. or both!
jane: maglor. okay this isn’t just me putting the woman who wants a big family with the habitual child thief (though i will admit, there is some nice synergy there.) it’s more that they’re both survivors, in a way, they both have this resolve deep down that could weather anything the world threw at them. i feel like they’d be one of the quieter couples in this set? sneaking out of court parties to wander the gardens and laugh at each other’s terrible jokes. they’d skirt around the edge of things together, softly enough so as not to be noticed, watching the world go by. and if it came to that, i think she’d wait for him
anna: celegorm. look the essence of anna of kleve is living in a gigantic palace doing whatever the hell she wants and not giving the slightest fuck what anyone thinks of her, and i feel like celegorm would be amenable to that. they don’t actually spend that much time together, he’s off in the woods and she’s chilling in her big fancy house, but when they do meet there’s always winks and finger guns. speaking of guns, their most common Couple Activity™ is going hunting, but you’ll also find them trading stories about the nonsense their social circles get up to over booze. they don’t usually show up for ~events at the same time, but when they do, they cut a swathe across the hall so efficiently you’d think they’d planned it in advance
kitty: ambarussa. this isn’t even a romantic thing, i just want them to be friends. i want her to go on adventures and have fun and be happy and not have to worry about guys at all, you know? they’d be the ‘two dumbasses and an enabler’ kind of terrible trio, i think, the twins getting up to the stupidest shit and her cackling in the background. absolute terrors, cause so much trouble, and they always try to dodge the consequences to varying degrees of success. and then they all head off home, promising to see each other the next morning and make even more mischief tomorrow
cathy: maedhros. i picture them having these long elaborate discussions about philosophy and ethics and religion and the differences between their worlds and all kinds of other things, these fascinating debates that go on until one of them notices it’s 3am. their interests don’t overlap 100%, but they have this shared fondness for big Projects that they always end up supporting each other in. you don’t see them talking much in their formal public appearances, but in private or when they’re just hanging out they’ll banter back and forth with the kind of carefree ease that comes from how comfortable they are with each other. she’s significantly more low-key than he is, but when push comes to shove she is just as intensely opinionated and willing to defend her ideas. should the time come, she would stand up to him like nobody else could
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irmolorienasks-imagines · 3 months ago
-A black cat leaps onto Irmo and tries to hide in his robes-
*is startled* *screeches and falls off the hammock he sleeps into*
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*blinks* "Feanor..?!"
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actuallyfingolfin · 28 days ago
a favorite au for the fic rec bingo?
Normally aus aren’t typically my thing EXCEPT for The War of the Ring (rating: teen, word count:  178,056, warnings: major character death & graphic depiction of violence) by morwen_of_gondor/@winterinhimring.
it is DEFINITELY one of my top favorite fics ever. It's the plot of lotr except the re-embodied Feanorians return to ME & help fight Sauron.
It's just absolutely brilliant.
The characterization is wonderful (the scenes with the hobbits interacting with these legendary figures from the first age, curufin and gandalf being Too Snarky to handle, the scene where amrod shows up to lothlorien and meets galadriel after.... 6000 years happen to be some of my favorites but honestly every single interaction is incredibly well done, and feels incredibly true to the characters), the plot is fantastically compelling and very in-tune with the themes of lotr and gah I love it so much.
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actuallyfeanor · 18 hours ago
“Why do people donate to AO3 when there are people relying on donations to cover basic medical expenses?”
Maybe, just maybe, the real problem isn’t a fucking fanfiction site, but the entire clusterfuck that is the USAmerican approach to healthcare? And maybe you’d do more good lobbying for systemic change than shitting on people for spending a few bucks on their hobby
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This scene will not leave my mind so I’m inflicting it upon you instead.
So picture it, the Dagorlad has been won and everyone’s been brought back to life. The Noldor make their first unanimous decision ever and decide that the least amount of people will die if Finwe becomes king again. Except, when I said that everyone is alive I do mean Everyone, including Miriel.
So now the king has two wives. Which.... is a bit of a problem in a previously completely monogamous species. So now the Ainur and the rest of the ruling elves are pressuring Finwe to choose a wife permanently (and if everyone also happens to have an Opinion on which wife he should choose then that’s neither here nor there). But aside from the sheer dickishness of publicly preferring one wife over the other, Finwe literally cannot choose, because either choice will start a goddamm civil war.
Naturally, he (with input from his wives) makes a decision. They make a big deal of it, and more then half of Aman turns up to the announcement. Finwe, dressed in the most elaborate robes you have ever seen, steps up to the dais...... and takes off his crown. He announces that he is officially stepping down, but that he passes the crown to both his wives. He then informs the completely silent crowd that his last act as king will be to act as officiant to the surprise wedding that they are having Right Now.
And that is the story of how Queen Miriel and Queen Indis got crowned, married and flipped of the Valar in less than two hours.
You are a god.
I really dont know what else the valar expected to happen. Anyways despite some initial objections, Feanor eventually gets behind the wedding. He was *gonna* make rings but apparently his house is banned from jewelry for forever so he ends up aggresively throwing flower petals at people he doesn't like as the flower girl.
I love this take on Indis though, honestly she's amazing and no one tells the Valar, with all due respect, to suck it like she does. The new regime will have a long and successful rule, long live the Queens!!
also someone with art talent please get on this.
Thanks HC!! Have an awesome day <3
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The Silmarillion, a summary.
Fëanor, in sunglasses: I’m not like a regular dad, I’m a cool dad
Fëanor: *commits genocide*
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stealingmyplaceinthesun · 11 months ago
you’re dating this man and you don’t even know what his religion is??? UNACCEPTABLE. Give him to me and I’ll beat it out of him with a Bible 😤
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commandermollyobrien · 7 months ago
Arafinwe: The Valar have a plan.
Fëanáro: The Valar have the collective intelligence of a pineapple.
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tar-thelien · 3 months ago
Níco - Male - Quenya - Small (níca) Male (o)
My Melkor is not very tall so imgen that when he and Feanor was “friends” Feanor would call him Níco( ^ ω ^)
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fuckingfinwions · a month ago
i find it pretty fascinating how in the harem!au fingon is less obivously pissed off about everything but does help his kids+idril+finrod escape (and do they ever end up rescuing him?) and in the servant!au he is obviously not happy abt the horrors of his life but he doesn't quite do anything as big/drastic. also i cant help but think that they wouldnt get along very well bc they wouldnt understand each other?
Harem AU Fingon doesn't actually feel that his life is that bad or his safety is ever threatened. Sure, he has to have painful or unpleasant sex sometimes, but that only takes a few hours a week. Most of the sex he has isn't his idea but is enjoyable, or is even sex that he initiates (with the other Bastards or the Princes). And even that doesn't take up all his time, so most of his day is his own. He can read, or play his harp, or exercise in the courtyard, or chat with the Princes or other Bastards, or lounge in the bath doing nothing at all. He can ask the servants to buy him books or games or new fancy clothes, and he'll usually get them. (Requests are written, so Feanor can review them and the Bastards can't conspire with the servants, but Feanor sees no reason for his harem to be unhappy.)
Sure, any activity that Fingon starts might be interrupted by one of the Feanorians sticking their cock in his face, or demanding he follow them to their bedroom, or just declaring they need a fourth person for cards and he's it. But it still seems like a very nice life to Fingon, especially with no other experience to compare it too.
As far as Harem!Fingon can tell, Gil-Galad is neurodivergent or something similar, and that's why Gil-Galad cares way more about sex than is "normal". It's very weird to him that Gil-Galad is so strongly opposed to sex on someone else's schedule. Like sure, it would be preferable to be a Prince and get to always refuse if you were in the middle of a project, but it's not that big a deal. It would also be preferable to eat cake every day, but Fingon wouldn't cut all ties with his family if he was told he'd never get cake again.
But arguing with someone that they shouldn't find something viscerally unpleasant doesn't work. (Fingon tried, a lot, in hopes that Gil-Galad could be persuaded to stay as part of the family.) Fingon thinks he would run away himself if Feanor said that he would no longer be allowed indoors except when being fucked, but Celegorm would hardly notice a difference. Gil-Galad cares a lot about this, even if his reasons don't make much sense to Fingon. And being a good parent means you give your kids what they need, regardless of how uncommon that need is.
Also, Harem!Fingon isn't scared of Feanor. Sure, Feanor will demand things, from sex to bearing a child to permanent rules about behavior. And if someone's dumb enough to disobey, Feanor will inflict pain. But all the Bastards belong to Feanor just as surely as the Princes do, and Feanor keeps his belongings in good condition. He'd never actually do any long term damage, and has probably even punished the Princes for harming the Bastards too much. (Caranthir was sent to bed without supper or sex the time he accidentally hit Argon too hard and fractured his collarbone.)
Servant AU Fingon by contrast has a life that is unpleasant from moment to moment. His entire day is dictated, and it's a mix of rape and mindless drudgery. He remembers a bit of a childhood before this, and even if he didn't he talks to the servants who work with him. They don't have to worry that if they skip sweeping an odd corner they'll be whipped. And they certainly aren't compelled to have sex with their uncle and cousins.
Servant!Fingon is also very aware that Feanor doesn't care about him at all. Feanor likes having Nolo around to flaunt his victory in front of. But Nolo's kids are mostly just dildos/cocksleeves, with the bonus that Nolo reacts entertainingly when Feanor does something new or unusually bad to them.
Servant!Fingon is 100% convinced that Feanor would kill him f he became too much trouble to keep prisoner. And then Fingon's family would be raped even more, as the sex that had been distributed among four of them is now only going three ways.
Not saying Servant!Fingon would never escape, but it would have to be something very very big.
The two of them would definitely not get along.
For one thing, Servant!Fingon has an incest taboo and Harem!Fingon doesn't, and I feel like Harem is going to suggest selfcest at some point in this discussion. Servant is not 100% opposed to the concept but saying "It will be even hotter than fucking Dad in front of a mirror" is not how you convince him.
For another, yes, they do not understand each other at all. Servant thinks that Harem is naive and brainwashed, willing to give up his entire life in exchange for a little temporary pleasure.
Harem thinks that Servant is stubborn to the point of idiocy, fighting back when there's no way of winning purely to claim points in his own head.
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melino-lost-arafinwion · 2 months ago
The Arafinwion pulled the hood close around his head, shielding his features from any nosy eyes that might happen to witness his arrival.
While riding in the splendid carriage, Melino had remained silent as the servant who had purchased him stared at the window in dee thought.
On the servant’s chest was embroidered the seven pointed star of the Feanorians. Seeing that had made anxiety grow in Melino’s chest.
“Where are we going?” Melino had questioned, but only received a curt answer.
The servant shot a glare at him:
“You will find out soon enough.”
Now, as the pair entered through the grand main doors of the mansion and rushed through a myriad of doors and exquisitely decorated rooms, they stopped in what looked to be a study.
The servant commanded:
“Wait here. The lord will meet with you in a moment.”
And so, Melino stood, looking in wonder at the beautiful trappings of the royals, questioning what in Arda’s name had brought him so far from the streets of Alqualondë.
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irmolorienasks-imagines · 3 months ago
"I see you read my list of complaints to Namo. Maybe you can help talk some sense into your brother?"
"I also read his reply to your complaints; I don't see any fault with it... Besides, even if I did, 'tis very bold of you to assume he takes advice from me. He's the big brother, remember?"
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"If you want, you can always ask my Brother to let you visit my Gardens. You will find that we are the opposite of boring here."
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growingingreenwood · a year ago
One of the most confusing things about the Silmarillon is the bunch of NAMES. There's a name mentioned and explained and 3 pages later I'm like "Who was this again? What did they do?" because there's just so many... I'm still pretty much at the beginning, does it ever get easier?
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Theoretically yes.
But realistically no.
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