#russinglor

[pastelsugar6w6]

[holy-marmalade]

your Maglor seems like the kind of person to kiss Fingon (with tongue) just because he tastes like Maedhros (ifywim 😏)

I mean that with love 💜

Yessssss, and Fingon is getting that buy one get one free sons of Feanor promotion u-u

Mild russinglor nsft discussion under the read more

Maglor does it because : - Maedhros obviously - He has been making out with Fingon since their university years, as a "friend", why stop now that Fingon is in a relationship with Mae, it's just a "friend" thing anyway

Fingon is aware of why Mags does it and let him do it because : - Maglor's cute and a good kisser and also his ass and tights are very soft to fondle while kissing him - See Maglor's point about doing this since uni - Maglor rarely initiates their make out sessions as he is very passive in life unless it involves : a) Maedhros, b) Music - Witnessing some maemag action is one of Fingon's most arousing dream

Maedhros is aware of their making out (he has seen them many times) but think it's just a "friend" thing. Doesn't mean he doesn't find it very arousing and feels very guilty afterwards. He isn't aware of why Maglor does it sometimes right after he had some heavy time with Finno tho.

Have a full make out with tongues instead of the innocent smack from that crack post.

[whovianofmidgard]

From the WIP folder, definitely eyeballing the Siege on Mithrim. Do say more!

(post referring to this tag game)

Thanks so much for the ask!

Siege on Mithrim is going to be the very next installment in my time-travelling Maedhros AU where his actions and impact on the First Age is observed by PoVs other than him (mostly Maglor but so far there's been a bit of Fingon too), with a side of Russinglor ship in there.

It's going to follow from the end of las fic where Maedhros declined to do the parley this time around and as a result the fic is going to go through the preparations and anticipation of Morgoth's attack in response to the refusal, as well as the siege itself. Multiple alternating PoVs from the usual Maglor perspective, several Finwëan cousins, to even an injured Fëanor himself, but never from Maedhros (heehee >:3). There will be pre-battle musings, siblings and cousins being suspicious of the Russinglor of it playing out under their noses, and of course, the chaos of battle.

[pastelsugar6w6]

Fingon: this is my husband Maedhros and Maedhros's brother Maglor and Maglor's boyfriend Daeron

Maglor: I'm also Maedhros' boyfriend 💜

Fingon: he's also Maedhros' boyfriend

[pastelsugar6w6]

Maedhros walks into a room with only High King Fingon and Maglor for a private discussion. He walks out 10 seconds later with the buttons of his shirt ripped open, hickeys on his neck, and kiss marks everywhere.

[pastelsugar6w6]

Fingon is the Blue Gay. Maedhros is the Red Gay. Maglor is their Purple Gay.

[whovianofmidgard]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fingon/Maedhros/Maglor (Tolkien) Characters: Maglor (Tolkien), Maedhros (Tolkien), Fingon (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Minor Original Character(s), Nameless Orc, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Outside of Time Traveller's PoV, POV Maglor (Tolkien), Politics, Choices, Deliberations, Decision Making, Maedhros Kills the Messenger, Canon-Typical Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Decapitation, Loss of Limbs, Eavesdropping, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Parley, Maedhros does not go to parley with Morgoth, Parley Prevented Series: Part 4 of Maedhros Changes the First Age, Part 2 of Maedhros and Maglor Week 2025

Summary:

Morgoth's messenger arrives to the Noldor encampment in Mithrim with the offer to parley and a promise of a Silmaril. Things do not turn out in the way that the original story was once told.  Part of a series.

For Day 2 of @maedhrosmaglorweek 

Snippet:

"King Regent..."

"I shall be with you momentarily."

Makalaurë stirred from his sleep, blinking his eyes open, ears slightly twitching as they picked up the sounds of paper rustling and a chair being pushed back. He was greeted by Findekáno's resting face sharing his pillow, lax, untroubled and awfully endearing. Their legs were entangled in a confusing mess, bodies pressed close together, seeking the source of each other's warmth to fill the notable empty space where Maitimo should be.

Soft thuds of footfalls upon the carpeted floor, growing fainter as they moved to exit the tent.

Curious, Makalaurë carefully untangled himself from his cousin. Rolling out of bed he spared a moment to lovingly tuck the blankets around Findekáno's slumbering form, then reached for the closest robe he could find to cover his nakedness with just as he heard the tent flap flutter closed.

Makalaurë padded on silent bare feet over to the curtain that separated the bed from the rest of the tent, a feature Maitimo had had installed not long after the first starry day-or-night the three of them had fallen into each other's arms. With slender fingers he drew the curtain aside, peering into the rest if the tent's space.

A lone flickering candle flame gave what little light there was to the darkness, illuminating the work desk tucked to the side. Stacks of papers and reports were neatly arranged around the surface, a letter left out to let the ink dry. Makalaurë approached the desk, walking past his brother's armour stand and the table set out for guests with refreshments accompanied with two cushioned chairs, and he took a surface level look at its contents.

The letter was addressed to Aunt Lalwendë who seemed to have stationed herself indefinitely by the coast of Losgar, encouraging relations and goodwill with Lord Círdan and his folk. Maitimo even suggested to make a gift of a number of their swan-ships (their stolen Telerin swan-ships paid with blood and steel) and outlining future goals of trade by water, fishing as a viable food source to supply the Noldor, and possible exploration expeditions along the shores and further out on the sea to the South and East.

Pushing a few loose pages aside, Makalaurë also found many drafts of battle tactics in Maitimo's hand, some of which suggested that they weren't just mere thought exercises in trying to anticipate the Enemy’s next move, but something far more. There were too many details to the plans in some places, and multiple corrections in others, as if Maitimo was trying to solve an equation to a problem he'd been pondering for years. Or like something he had already seen, and was trying to prevent from... coming true?... or perhaps from happening again?

"What is it, Cendano?" Maitimo's low voice drifted in from outside as he addressed one of their captains. One who's been quickly proving himself to be a reliable elf as well as loyal to specifically Maitimo in his regency.

"A messenger, Your Majesty. The one you have warned us may turn up after the battle. Our scouts had intercepted it and we are now holding it under guard as instructed.

Read the rest on Ao3

[whovianofmidgard]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Summary:

Now that everyone has arrived to Beleriand Filgolfin's Host needs to catch up to the Fëanorians. That means being filled in on the events that had transpired while they were sailing, settlements that were built, early alliences that were made, and the battles already fought without them. Also traversing all the way to Mithrim to meet with the Fëanorians. But Maglor and Fingon's relationship status is not the only thing that has changed in all that time. What sort of changes will Maglor find within his own family when he sees them again?

Part of the Losgar Unburnt verse, the series is called Maedhros Changes the First Age

For @silmsmutweek  Day 6, Prompt: Politics, warfare and sex, Object of the Day: crown

Snippet:

As the swan-ship fleet made ready for mooring on the shores of Losgar, Makalaurë noted how things had changed in his absence. What had been the long sprawling encampment of the entire Fëanárian Host when he left, had since shrunk to less than tenth of its size and was fashioned into a small, defensible outpost.

Elves from around the outpost came and aided in speeding up the docking process. Meanwhile others milled about the tents that still stood around, and some went about their duties further inland from the beach where a few wooden cabins and one larger log house with a stone base had been built. There were also two guard towers in sight, and what looked to be an unfinished wall, work visibly still in progress, raised around the surrounding area.

“I suppose we won’t be meeting with the High King here,” Findekáno sidled up beside Makalaurë, as he sized up the tiny outpost from their perch on the prow.

“So it would seem,” the minstrel answered, his eyes scanning the faces of elves. None of them were of his family.

“They must have long moved inland,” he mused.

A hand slipped into the Fëanorion’s, and he tore his gaze away from his search to glance at Findekáno. His cousin’s face shone with kindness and hope, and it was hard not to feel unworthy being under such regard.

“Then we will follow and catch up to them,” Findekáno easily said.

Makalaurë couldn’t help but return that statement with a smile. Being able to smile still caught him off guard, he hadn’t done so ever since the Trees’ light went out, and it was all thanks to Maitimo’s beloved. His beloved too now, if they hadn’t terribly misunderstood his brother’s hints.

His eyes slipped back to the outpost before them, and said, “We’ll have to tell whoever’s in charge of this place that your father’s Host won’t all fit within their walls.”

“Work...” Findekáno huffed.

Makalaurë unsuccessfully suppressed a snort of laughter at his dejected face, knowing his recently acquired lover would rather run off to explore their new surroundings than sit by Nolofinwë’s side with the elf who commanded this outpost and discuss logistics for hours. Having watched Findekáno hoist sails and row along with their crew ‘till his arms were numb for weeks on end made it all the more comical that having done all that he considered being forced to sit still in a council meeting the harder job.

To cheer him up Makalaurë pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, then pulled Findekáno by the hand to finally disembark.

Read the rest on Ao3