eldest daughter syndrome unlocked

Silm enjoyer, female, old enough to know better, ask me about my fem!Maedhros agenda

[r-ultrazul]

Something hurts and more precious than a Silmaril.

[mandhos]

ya pero~...

[drawulan]

Finyo

refs, that guy from pinterest fits my headcanon so well, love him as Finyo

[magedarkwood]

Maedhros inspired moodboard

[maalidoesart]

maedhros

[ilaneya]

maitimo my beloved 🤲✨ (it’s time to count how many arts of him i’ve already got)

[magedarkwood]

Maedhros inspired moodboard

[nailsinmywall]

happy feanorian week !!!!!!!

day one: maedhros

[wisesnail]

I have no excuses, he's just my fave elf! The babiest! The cutest! Today with scars and pain and sadness (◡‿◡✿)

Painted while listening to this song

Prints and other stuff on my RedBubble and Threadless

[kairennart]

Fingon and Maedhros for @queerofthedagger <3

[anattmar]

Finno :3

[anna-dreamer]

Слава тебе, безысходная боль! Умер вчера сероглазый король. ---------- Glory to you, inescapable pain! The gray-eyed king died yesterday. ---------- Anna Akhmatova's poem ---------- Day 5: War  Union of Maedhros - Unhappy ending @russingon-week

[exercise-of-trust]

not pictured: the six brothers who showed up to portrait day covered in ink, mud, soot, or all three at once

[nynevefromthelake]

@russingon-week day 5: war

Fingon having a breakdown after his father death and coronation. He is just so tired

[tar-maitime]

no better love

Rating: G Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekano Additional: modern AU, family, fun and shenanigans WC: .6k

For @russingonweek Day 7 - The Future Prompt - Transformation

The house was unrecognizable.

“I think,” Fingon said slowly, “that we might have made a slight tactical error in allowing Curufin and Turgon to collaborate on decorating for Gil’s birthday party.”

Maedhros, at his elbow, snorted. “You’re assuming that ‘allowing’ them entered into it at all. I couldn’t stop Curvo from getting involved and going all out, and you couldn’t stop Turgon, and we should probably just thank our lucky stars that an inventor and an interior designer with thwarted dreams of city planning didn’t do worse to the place.”

“And that they were too busy competing to kill each other,” Fingon agreed. He looked dubiously around him again. Perhaps he was just taking his long-overdue turn as the more practical of the two of them, but giving their house a (theoretically temporary) makeover into a startlingly lifelike replica of a medieval castle’s interior seemed a little over the top. Gil was turning six.

But he was still healing from the burns he’d gotten in the car crash, and so had been forbidden from doing anything for the party at all besides showing up, which had led to Turgon and Curufin getting involved...which had led to this.

“It might be a little bit my fault,” Maedhros confessed. I wouldn’t let Turno throw you a ‘welcome home’ bash when you got out of the hospital - I wanted to keep things quiet - so I think he poured all that energy into this. And then of course Curvo can never let anyone outdo him at anything.”

Fingon laughed, and reached out to pick up her hand and kiss it. “It’s all right, Russe. Both our families are a lot, but we knew that pretty much from the start, didn’t we?” 

She nodded ruefully.

And that was all the time they got to discuss it, because at that moment, the doorbell rang, announcing the advent of the first of a small sea of children dressed as knights and princesses, and their parents, and over the next half-hour, all the siblings and parents and uncles and cousins from all three corners of the family, until the house was packed to the gills. There were almost too many people to tell whether the house was decorated or not.

Fingon and Maedhros found each other again somewhere between presents and cake, and exchanged eloquent looks. “Next year,” Maedhros murmured, “neither of us will be injured or taking care of the other, and we’ll be paying attention when Gil asks if he can have a party with all his friends, and we’ll say no. Keep it just the three of us.”

Fingon nodded, even as he surveyed the chaos of the party. Gil was happily at the center of a ring of friends, paper crown completely askew, with Maglor’s foster twins pressed in at either elbow and Tyelpe trying to break up a nascent quarrel between Idril and Maeglin a few feet away. By contrast, no one was stopping Angrod and Caranthir’s argument, but at least they didn’t seem in danger of breaking anything - unlike Aredhel, Celegorm, Amrod, and Amras with whatever gymnastic showing-off they were attempting. Curufin looked like he was going to intervene to save his handiwork, though - one more thing covered.

Feanor, thankfully, was nowhere near either of his stepbrothers nor the toaster or any kitchen appliances. He was casting a contemplative eye over a couple of battery-powered toys Gil had received, but Fingon had reasonable confidence that he would either leave them alone or improve them in ways Gil would like. It was probably fine.

He glanced back at Maedhros. “I don’t know. We might at least have the family over, next year. It’d be too quiet otherwise.”

Maedhros snorted. “You’re impossible,” she informed him.

“And that’s why you love me,” Fingon bantered back. It still hadn’t gotten old, saying that.

“It is,” Maedhros admitted. “Among many other reasons, but yes.”

She punctuated it with a kiss, what Fingon had been angling for all along, and he settled in against her side to watch the controlled chaos of the party together until the next minor crisis.

[tar-maitime]

with their heart still intact

Rating: T Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon } Findekano Additional: modern AU, character injury, recovery WC: 1k

For @russingonweek Day 6 - AU Prompt: Canon divergence and fix-its

There was no clock in the hospital waiting room, and Maedhros never wore a watch, and her phone battery was low enough that she’d forsworn checking it every other minute to see what time it was now. She’d been reduced to staring at the other people camped out here to try and distract herself from the thoughts that threatened to spiral. They’d told her Fingon was still alive when she got here, that they were “working on him”, but that was well over two hours ago, and she hadn’t heard anything since.

“Thalion?” a nurse called out, and the woman Maedhros had been watching, dark-haired and grim-faced with two small children in tow and a third clearly on the way, rose and walked stiffly where she was directed, holding her children’s hands tightly.

Then it was just Maedhros and a short, stocky bearded man and a willowy girl, near tears, left in the waiting room. She’d made calls to Fingon’s parents and siblings when she’d first arrived, but none of them had made it here yet - Fingolfin and Anaire had been at a political dinner across the state, Turgon was frantically trying to find childcare for his daughter and also Aredhel’s son whom he’d been watching, Aredhel herself was somewhere with no cell reception, and Argon was out of state at college. 

Maedhros thanked anyone listening, fervently, that she’d been as close as she had. As bad as it was waiting here, she was sure she would’ve had gone spare if she’d been stuck somewhere else, unable to even do this much.

“Vanyaran?” somebody said, and she startled, scrambling to her feet. 

“It’s Noldoran,” she told the nurse reflexively, “but Fingon Vanyaran is my husband. How is he? Is he going to be all right? Is he --”

The nurse gave her a sympathetic look. “He’s going to be fine,” she assured, gesturing for Maedhros to follow her back. “He’s got some pretty bad burns, and a nasty concussion on top of that - not quite a skull fracture though, thank goodness - so he doesn’t look his best, but he’ll pull through.”

Maedhros felt like she could breathe for the first time in hours. “Thank you,” she murmured shakily. “That’s good. Thank you. Can I...?”

“He wa sawake last I checked,” the nurse said, turning a corner and gesturing Maedhros toward a door. “He’s right through there. I’ll let you have some time before you have to stick to visiting hours. But if he’s asleep, let him sleep, he needs it.”

“Of course,” Maedhros promised, and then she was through the door without waiting another moment.

The hospital room was small, just big enough for the bed and medical equipment and some cupboards. The walls were a sickly pale yellow with wainscoted wallpaper patterned with badly drawn mauve flowers, but the room had Fingon in it, and that was more than enough for her.

He was lying still, his eyes closed and a saline drop going into one heavily bandaged arm - all of him was heavily bandaged. His braids were gone, Maedhros noted distantly as she dropped into the hard plastic chair beside him, burned or cut off she couldn’t tell.

He shifted as she sat down, and then opened his bloodshot eyes to look at her. “Russe,” he murmured, “you’re here.”

“Yes,” she choked out, barely holding back tears now that she knew everything was relatively all right. “I came right away. They just let me in. Ho are you feeling?”

Fingon appeared to assess himself for a moment, and winced. “Everything hurts,” he informed her. “I was a little bit on fire. Not anymore, though. And I think they’ve got me on painkillers, ‘cause the hurting is kinda...far away.”

“That’s okay,” Maedhros said, and reached her hand out for his bandaged one on instinct. He took it before she could think better of it. “You’re going to be okay, Finno, I was so worried, but they said you’ll make it no problem. You’ll just have to rest and heal for a while.”

Fingon hummed and nodded slightly. Then, “Is Gil okay? Where is he? Is he - what did you tell him?”

“He’s fine, he’s with Atar and Curufin, they were closest,” Maedhros assured. “He and Tyelpe are probably having a lovely time. He knows you got hurt and that i had to come see you without him, but that’s it. Nothing scary.”

“That’s good.” Fingon let out a sigh. “Sorry I worried you, Russe.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not like you asked to get in a wreck.” She sniffed hard, still determined not to cry. “I’m just glad you’re still here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Fall to the dark side,” Fingon said, slurring slightly, echoing an old joke of theirs, “and then where would Gil be?”

“Exactly.” Maedhros just barely stopped herself from squeezing his hand, not wanting to hurt him. “So rest up and get better, okay? I’ll come as often as they’ll let me, and I’ll bring Gil, too, now that --” Now that she knew Fingon wasn’t about to die. “-- I’ll bring him.”

The nurse was back, knocking lightly on the doorframe, and Fingon’s eyelids were starting to flutter with sleepiness, so Maedhros stood and brused a kiss over his forehead, just barely not making contact. “I love you, Finnonya. Sleep well.”

Then she had to leave, ushered out, but the awful thing constricting her chest when she arrived had gone away now. Fingon was alive. He’d get well. Everything else, she could handle, as long as he was still there.

[tar-maitime]

silent in any still alive

Rating: T Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Ereinion Gil-galad, Fingon } Findekano (mentioned) Additional: modern AU, Nirnaeth Arnoediad, car crash, character injury WC: .75k

For @russingonweek Day 5 - War Prompt - Fire

Maedhros sighed and rolled her shoulders as she walked into the pharmacy, holding Gil-galad’s hand in hers. Just this left, and then home, where hopefully Fingon would be waiting. His commute was longer than hers since they’d moved to their little house, but he hadn’t had any errands today.

Getting the prescription refill she’d come for was the work of a few minutes, and she turned to go...only to have her eyes catch for some reason on the news playing on the wall TV, with its footage of the fiery aftermath of a car crash.

“...collision of a gasoline tanker truck with a passenger vehicle on State Route 2, nicknamed the Nirnaeth Speedway for its frequent fatalities,” a news anchor was saying, with far too much calm, because the car silhouetted against the flames and emergency lights was much, much too familiar. It can’t be...you’re imagining things...other people have that kind of car...

As the anchor started discussing what had caused the crash, traffic camera footage came up on the screen. It was slowed down, so Maedhros had plenty of time to see the ridiculous silver star decals her nephew had insisted on giving Fingon for his car gleam against the blue paint, before the tanker truck, on the outside of a curve and taking it too fast, crossed into the other lane. It slammed into the back of Fingon’s car, sending both vehicles spinning into the barrier.

The news cut back to the anchor, and Maedhros made a small, involuntary wounded noise, then scooped up Gil-galad and held him close to her. He was getting almost too big for it at five years old, but. If it had been Fingon’s turn today to pick him up from kindergarten...if they had both been in the car...

The news hadn’t said there were any fatalities yet. Sometimes they didn’t.

“Amme, what’s wrong?” Gil-galad asked, slightly muffled against her shoulder. 

Maedhros made herself breathe. “I don’t know, baby. Maybe nothing.”

Maybe Fingon was fine. Maybe she was letting her mind run away with her.

She shifted to hold Gil-galad with her right arm, and reached for her phone.

But before she could call FIngon, it started ringing, an incoming call from an unknkown number.

Trying to calm her racing heart, she picked up. “Maedhros Noldoran?” a professional-sounding female voice on the other end asked.

She swallowed hard. “That’s - that’s me.”

“I’m calling because you’re listed as the emergency contact for Fingon Vanyaran, does that sound right?”

It took a moment before she could get the words out. “Yes. He - he’s my husband.”

The woman’s voice was tinged with sympathy that made Maedhros want to climb out of her own skin. “All right. Ma’am, I’m sorry to tell you there’s been an accident. Can you come to the Esteva Hospital emergency room on Lome Street as soon as possible?”

“I - I can - I can do that. I’m ten minutes away,” Maedhros managed, heart hammering, the whole world seeming very distant, even Gil-galad’s small warm body against hers. “Is he - is he alive?”

“He is,” the woman confirmed, and Maedhros’ whole body sagged. “I’m afraid I don’t have any more information than that, though.”

“That’s all right. Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Maedhros hung up, and just stood for a moment, trying to take deep breaths and gather herself.

Then she pocketed her phone and started to walk out, hiking Gil-galad up on her hip a little.

“Amme, what’s happened?” Gil-galad asked quietly, pressing close against her.

“Atto’s gotten in some trouble. He’s hurt,” Maedhros said quietly, with what she thought was admirable steadiness. “I have to go get him. So I’m going to drop you off with uncle Curvo and grandpa at their makerspace on my way to go see Atto, okay?” It wouldn’t be her first choice of babysitters or location - that would be Maglor and his wife at their place, since they knew the meaning of a decent bedtime - but the makerspace was the only option that was en route to the hospital, and she needed to get there fast, and she couldn’t take Gil, just in case...just in case...

“Okay,” Gil-galad said, sounding subdued. “Tell Atto to feel better for me?”

Maedhros bit back a sob as she set him in his car seat. “I will, baby. Promise I will.”