#but Gil would do this the right way

[softquietsteadylove]

I have another idea (sorry if this is too spammy, please tell me if it's too much) also sorry if this one is a bit dark, my life long love of true crime is showing. so human au, Thena and Gil have been married for years, Thena has a history of mental health problems but specially seeing/hearing things that aren't there so when she starts talking about someone following her that nobody eles can see people are skeptical, until one day she goes missing, the police don't do much at first because she's a grown woman but then letters start showing up from someone who claims to have her, Gil is frantic trying to find his wife and he feels like he's slowly losing his mind, maybe a hopeful yet open ended end with potential to be expanded. Damm this one is long, sorry

Gil crouched down behind the shrubs as another car passed. He knew very well he could get in a lot of trouble for this. Technically, the cops were supposed to be doing this.

Well, the cops were supposed to be investigating his wife's disappearance. What he thought they were doing was instead standing around with their dicks in their hands talking about how 'wives leave their husbands all the time without explanation'. They didn't know Thena. And they didn't know him either.

And he was damn sure they didn't know Kro. He had mentioned that Thena had an abusive ex-boyfriend who was obsessed with her, but they didn't care. All they saw was that Thena had a diagnosis of schizophrenic episodes. It was more than enough for them to write off her reports of being followed as paranoia.

Gil moved closer to the house. He had been watching for days.

If this bastard was going to stalk Thena then he could do the same. He had watched Kro, watched when he left the house--seldom. Watched what he did when he did go places--always for basic needs like food, never anywhere else. If he had a job, it was remote, or he had quit it to become a full time freak and kidnapping felon.

It started with Thena saying she was being followed. And he had tried to catch a glimpse, but he had never managed to get a look at what she had seen. But she said it wasn't a vision, that she knew what those felt like and this was different. She said it was tall, and that it was watching her.

It certainly sounded like Kro at the time, and the letters confirmed it was him, as far as Gil was concerned. They were printed computer paper, generic and untraceable. They said things like 'I have her' and 'she's mine now'. Cops didn't have proof it was from him, or even about Thena.

Gil knew better. It was the way someone obsessive and possessive would talk about someone. It felt like Kro, saying to her now-husband that she was his, her ex-boyfriend's, again. According to the cops, Kro had an alibi which eliminated him as a suspect. They hadn't even held him for 24 hours.

Gil stuck his finger into the crack of the window being left open. He had found a day when they were left open and stuck a twig in the slider to keep it from latching. It sounded insane, he knew. He was behaving criminally. But he didn't care what he had to do to get Thena back.

He pushed the window up, slipping through slowly. He had done his research. He knew that there was no alarm system because he had a creepy looking dog walking around. The dog would trip any motion sensor that was active.

Said dog lifted its head. It looked like a malnourished, mangy thing. Gil pulled the chicken out of his pocket. If this thing was supposed to be a guard dog, it wasn't very well trained. It hadn't even barked before he tossed the dog toy full of chicken at it. It was some kind of special puzzle, supposedly it would keep a dog busy for hours.

He moved slowly and carefully. The house had a basement, there were little barred windows on the front at the base and the rest of the houses on the street did too. If Thena was anywhere, he had to assume she was there.

"Thena?" he whispered. He was pretty damn sure Kro was upstairs doing his remote work in a home office at the far end of the house.

It was almost foolhardy: man kidnapped a woman and was arrogant enough to leave her two floors down from him all day and night?

"Thena," Gil whispered again as gently twisted the basement door handle. It wasn't even locked. He glanced down, it was pitch black, depriving Thena completely of any comfort. His steps were careful, he didn't want to make the stairs creak too much.

He walked down carefully. He had no proof Kro wasn't just sitting down here, lying in wait for him. And worse yet, he had to be ready for what he might find. He didn't think Kro would hurt Thena, but he didn't have proof that he wouldn't.

"Thena," Gil whispered again. He looked around, hoping his eyes would adjust. Those little windows must have been blacked out as well as barred.

"Gil?"

His heart leapt. He reached in his pocket for his phone. Pulling it out he swung it around with the flashlight on. The basement was actually not so bad, at least more than a dirt floor cellar. His gut twisted, "Thena."

She squinted, although he moved the light away from her, just lighting the corner of the basement that was hers. She was handcuffed to a support post, seated on what seemed to be an old mattress. It looked like the blanket she had been given was one for the dog, and the pillow was somehow worse than that.

"Okay, sweetheart, it's okay, I'm here," Gil rushed, kneeling down and immediately reaching for the handcuff. He had looked this up too, purchasing a cheap pair with keys online just in case.

Thena lurched forward, barely able to hold herself up enough to bury her sobs into his chest.

"I'm here, I'm here," he repeated, stroking her hair. She was in the same clothes she had been wearing friday. It was 37 hours later. He must have gotten her right as she was coming out of her office and before Gil had pulled up to the curb. It was such a slim window.

"Gil," she whispered into his hoodie. She dug her fingers into it, but her nails were bloody. She had tried getting the nail to which her cuffs were attached out of the wooden column. "He told me he would let me go if I promised to leave you."

"It's okay, honey, I've got you," he whispered. Of course this psycho wanted to play some sick game like that. He probably would have let her go, too. Nothing had been proven to link back to him yet, and he knew very well that no one would believe Thena about it.

He didn't have to have her. He just needed no one else to.

Gil rubbed her wrist, which was red and raw from her struggling. He pressed his nose to her hair, "sweetie, did he hurt you?"

"No," she whimpered, to at least some of his relief. "He hasn't touched me. He said he would let me out of here if I told him I never loved you."

Gil had read up on that. Kro was a narcissist, he needed to feel in possession and control. He wanted to know that Thena couldn't be with anyone else the way she had been with him. But they had been married for five years by now, in comparison to the year and a half she had been with Kro, including courtship and the lengthy process of Thena changing all her contacts and moving as far away from him as possible. Only for him to follow her here.

There was no use wondering about it. Gil pulled his hoodie off and wrapped it around her. "Have you been down here since friday?"

She nodded, barely conscious as he threaded her arms through the sleeves. "After work..."

"Did he give you any food or water?"

She shook her head again as he zipped it all the way up. "He would only come down every few hours to check if I was ready to give up."

Gil held her cheeks. He did his best to smile at her instead of crying. "And you never broke. That's my Thena."

She sighed as he kissed her forehead. "Take me home."

"Okay," he whispered. He pulled out a mini bottle of water, just enough to keep her conscious. He also pulled out a baggy with two pills. "Here y'go."

It wasn't an immediate concern, but it couldn't hurt to get her medication into her as soon as possible. Thena took them instinctively.

"Can you walk?" Gil whispered to her. This was the next step he had prepared for. There were a few different actions to take depending on her answer.

She shook her head. Even if he could have gotten her on her feet, she was weak, hadn't eaten or slept, and Kro had taken her shoes.

"Okay," he resolved. He buttoned the cargo pockets of his pants again and crouched down to get Thena in his arms. It was ideal to be ready to fight if he had to, but he wasn't about to sling his wife over his shoulder like old laundry.

Thena pressed her head to his chest as he lifted her.

"Let's get you home, sweetheart."

"You're not going anywhere!"

Gil froze. Thena was in his arms. His phone in his shirt pocket was still the only source of light. Kro was at the top of the stairs. He didn't seem armed, but Kro was 6'5" and decently muscled in his own right. He didn't think he needed a weapon. "It's over."

"It's not," the monster growled at him. He didn't even sound human. "Put her down."

Gil held her tighter as Thena buried her face in his neck. "She's my wife, Kro."

"She's a liar!" he bellowed at them and charged down the stairs to the bottom. "She said she would never get married and she lied!"

Who would want to marry a beast like this? Gil backed up just a step. "That's enough."

"Put her down!"

He really did match the description. Thena had said that a figure had started following her. That it was massive, way higher than six feet, shadowy and lurking around corners to follow her. And none of her visions had ever looked as monstrous as this man did now.

Gil did, but only so he could keep her away from him. He set her down on the mattress again, as much as she tried to cling to him. But he turned around, swinging his fist wide in the hopes of getting him in the face.

Kro did stumble back, but he was far from done.

Gil charged at him. If this was really going to be a fist fight to the death, then he was prepared for that, so long as Thena didn't get hurt in the meantime.

Kro snarled at him as they back into one of a few shelves scattered around the room. Junk and a few loose tools clattered to the ground. Kro clawed at his back but Gil slammed him into the shelf again.

He heard Thena cry out behind him as Kro tossed him away. He tried to stand but Kro sent him into another shelf, this one with paint cans. "I'll kill you!"

"Go to hell!" Gil yelled back at him. He grabbed whichever paint can he could swing, even an empty one. It did the job at least. He scrambled past Kro to Thena. "Go, run, I'm right behind you, go!"

"Gil, no!"

Gil hissed as Kro found his dropped phone and shined the light in his eyes. Next thing he knew, something that felt an awful lot like an empty paint can was colliding with his head. "Shit!"

Kro landed one hell of a punch to his jaw.

"Gil!"

He tried to stay on his feet. He couldn't see and his head was screaming at him. But he came here for a reason: for his wife. "Thena, run!"

His vision was just barely starting to bleed back to him. He could see Kro's massive silhouette. He got his hands up, ready to fight, when a flash of silver arched through his vision.

Thena connected the hammer with Kro's skull so solidly it was audible. She was breathing heavily, probably lightheaded. She looked at Kro's body, watching to see if it moved at all. Then she looked at him.

Gil eyed Kro as well, but he was out like a light. A hammer to the head was hard to beat, he honestly wasn't even sure if he was still alive. He looked at Thean, "sweetie, it's okay."

Thena stumbled back, dropping the hammer. She looked at him, "a-are you okay?"

Gil dragged himself to his feet. He wobbled a little, his knees being worse for wear (he wasn't young anymore). "I'm okay, are you?"

Thena moved numbly, stumbling into his embrace again, still looking at Kro. "Is he alive?"

"I don't know," Gil stared, even as he pressed his lips to her forehead again. "Let's get you outta here first, okay?"

Thena nodded, letting him herd her towards the stairs. "What do we do now?"

He had committed a crime, breaking and entering to get his wife back like this. Although maybe they could get lucky considering Thena was just defending herself against a certified psycho. Either way, he was leaving with his wife. "I don't know. You don't have to worry about that. We're just going to get you home."

[royaltea000]

He’s like the worlds shittiest Madonna to me

[beachyserasims]

Geneva Island Legacy┃Chapter four┃Enjoy Your Stay

~ Transcript ~

I have to give a shout out to @cinamun and @therichantsim because they simspired me to build my own secret underground lab from this post.

Beginning / Previous / Next

[armenelols]

For after the Last Battle and the overthrow of Morgoth, when the Valar gave Elros and Elrond a choice to belong either to the kin of the Eldar or to the king of Men, it was Elros who voyaged over sea to Númenor following the star of Eärendil; whereas Elrond remained among the Elves and carried on the lineage of King Elwë.

Note 19 - And also that of Turgon; though he preferred that of Elwë, who was not under the ban that was laid on the Exiles.

- Problem of Ros, HoME XII

Every once in a while I remember this passage and am sent spiralling into the orbit.

Elrond saw the disaster that were the Noldor and went 'nope, I am staying out of that drama. Sindar, here I come' and he's so valid for it. Living up to the as wise as a wizard. He looks at the elven side of his family tree, goes 'do you think I am stupid' and chooses the least problematic branch.

[thesummerestsolstice]

I love it when Elrond is portrayed as someone who is a little bit incomprehensible to most of the elves at first. Not even just because he's a half-elf, but because he reminds them all of so many other people, and that layering can be kind of jarring.

He sings beautifully, with a voice that sounds like no elf or man, and it reminds many of the Sindar of Luthien. It reminds some of the Noldor of someone else, another singer with raven-dark hair and starry gray eyes.

The braids he does his hair in– and he always keeps it braided at first, because letting it run loose is another thing that makes people whisper of Luthien– are in the traditional Noldor style. The survivors of Gondolin love that; Turgon always wore his hair in classical styles too. The other part of the House of Finwe that clung to traditional braids goes unmentioned. But everyone knows.

And he was clearly taught about court manners; taught to be gracious and charming, and a very good listener. The elf who could have taught Elrond those things is usually skipped over entirely, in favor of those reminiscing about Idril's graceful poise or Melian's endless patience.

He looks very much like Luthien, but there is a particular Finwean sharpness in his facial structure; something that makes him look a lot like Fingolfin, as well. Fingolfin looked very much like his father. And his older brother.

His smile is just like Earendil's (whose smile is just like Tuor's), and his strange, birdlike laugh is from Elwing. He fights and writes with his left hand– but then, so did Earendil, because while all elves are right-handed, not all humans or half-elves are. He eats no meat– just like Beren, they say, but the way Elrond tells it the choice had nothing to do with that history. There is ainuric power in him and something very human in the set of his shoulders. The flowers grow around any place he stays long enough. He gets sick in a way no elf, and certainly no maia, ever would. His accent is odd, and archaic, and changes noticeably when he's too tired to obscure it. His mannerisms are a mixture of about twelve people, almost all of whom are dead, and several of whom are not spoken of by the time he shows up in Gil-Galad's camp.

And the reflections of Elrond unsettle a lot of people; because one moment they see a fallen hero or loved one, and the next they see the person that took them. Or perhaps someone else, that they never knew at all. There is reverence and fear and uncertainty. It's messy.

Elrond himself is coming to peace with this by the War of Wrath. There is love in carrying the parts of your ancestors with you, even when they aren't around any more. And he knows better than anyone that he is always himself, first and foremost. Still, it takes everyone else a while to stop seeing a ghost and start seeing Elrond.

[myceliumelium]

The Thrall Children of Himring

A continuation of this here, with the help of @apocalypso-36 with Elrond, and @animeandbooksarelife who created itty bitty beastie.

Correspondence between Lord Elrond of Imladris and Lady Idril of Dol Amroth

Scholar Idril, I am an attentive reader of your works, especially when my own name comes up in it. I am writing to you now to inform you of an error you made, in referring to my blessed late brother, King Elros Tar-Minyatur, and myself as the 'Thrall-Children' of Maedhros Feanorion. I strongly believe I speak for both myself and my beloved twin when I humbly beg you edit your works to instead refer to us as his 'foster children'. While the conditions were far from ideal, and there was no shortage of problems with our relationship, he and Maglor Feanorion took care of us to the best of their ability. Thank you for your consideration. Lord Elrond Peredhel, Herald of High King Gil-Galad, Bannerman of Lindon.

My lord Elrond, I would like to start by profusely thanking you for taking a moment to correspond with a humble scholar, such as myself. As for the error you mentioned, it is no error at all, for I was referring to Maedhros’ apparent tendency to take in the children of escaped thralls or young escaped thralls themself, if they found themselves in need of shelter. I have only found two of these children ever referred to by name, the first named Ruinmir and the second only ever referred to as levain or little beast, but there is substantial evidence that they were not the only ones. Though I see now that my phrasing was confusing and I should reword for the sake of clarity. Though, now that you have opened dialogue, I find myself compelled yet again to ask if you would be willing to shed some light on certain details, as we seen the confusions that may come from working without the invaluable insight of people such as yourself. With admiration and hope of continued dialogue, Lady Idril of Dol Amroth

Excerpts of “On thralls and their lives in the north-east of Beleriand” by Saelgol of Lothlorien

“The greatest thrall communities were indeed centered on and concentrated around the fortress of Himring. Census data recovered from the ruins on Tol-Himling explicitly marks out it’s thrall populations, in a similar way to how they denote other elven cultures. Thralls are identified much the same way as the vanya, noldo and sinda populations. Though they enjoyed an additional measure of acceptance within Maedhros’s lands, does not mean they were considered a culture of their own right, rather than outcasts, living along the fringes of elven territories.” pp. 17

“Heavy policing of thrall communities was a common enough practice. Many lords feared that they were a threat to public order, “bringing back from angband barbaric practices and dark ghosts in their hearts”(Helcariel) such as bloodsport, a musical tradition named “night howling” by outside observers, and post-mortem cannibalism of their dead. These practices shook Exiles to their core, though Maedhros himself is said to have been disturbingly unbothered by it, which only added to his orcish reputation.”pp. 48

“Parentless children were a distressingly common sight amongst thralls. Often their caretakers had gone to great pains to smuggle them from the cursed land with no consideration for their own escape, or had been killed in the arduous trek. Others still were given mercy deaths at the hands of their brethren as they were too far gone to survive outside Angband. As a result, many children arrived alone into the care of thrall communities.” pp. 69

“Lord Maedhros was often noted to take in these children. Some of the very few written records we have from the hand of a thrall comes from a village chief, who wrote to Himring saying “We have two more mouths that we can feed, otorno. Two boys and a girl. The young boy and the young girl are desperately ill and we do not think they will survive, but the elder boy is healthy, he says his name is Ruinmir, and that the two younger are his little beasts.” And about a century later, we have records of an elf named Ruinmir Aldion, working in as a scout for Maedhros, and listed to have a dependant recorded as Levain, which I have verified is not a proper name but an epessë roughly translating to “Beastie.” By the accounts we have, the lord Maedhros fostered them both personally, though he never adopted either of them in earnest.” pp. 70

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Work-Life Balance

Inspired by this post; in the same universe as this and this and this

Warnings: non/dubcon, forced proximity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Clark Kent

Summary: a simple car pool leads to a compicated situation.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A haze of chatter buzzes behind your monitor. You do your best to tune it out as your fingertips skitter over your keyboard. For many, the day has been a wash, but you’re doing your best to square everything before the weekend. With the prospect of one less employee, you’ll need all the help you can get. 

“Hey,” a deep voice rolls through the drone, “you coming?” 

You keep typing, trying not to eaves drop. You tap the arrow keys, reviewing the column of numbers. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” they say firmer, tapping on the corner of your desk. 

As if zapped, you recoil from your keyboard and sit back in your chair. You look at Clark as he smiles down at you, his expression much less demanding than his tone. You give a sheepish smile, or something halfway there. 

“Sorry, I was...” 

“I interrupted, I should apologise,” he insists, “Drea’s farewell party, you going? We’re just about to head out.” 

“Um...” you don’t have an answer. It’s optional but you should go. You’ve been working with Drea for two years. You get along. Still, she’s leaving in the midst of busy season and won’t be there on Monday to help you catch up. “I...” 

“Come on. You look stressed. You could use a break,” he says. “The Grill has cocktails, so I hear.” 

“Well...” you twiddle your fingers against the armrests. “I guess I should.” 

“It’ll be good,” he grins. The cleft in his chin deepens and his eyes crinkle, sparkling like blue ice. “I’ll let Gil known you need a seat. We should have some room. Meeting down in the lobby in ten.” 

“Oh, ten...” you look at the screen, “sure, I’ll be there.” 

“Great,” he backs up. 

He walks away and you roll closer to your desk again. Clark is friendly. You don’t know much about him but he always says hello in the break room or holds the door if you get to work at the same time. Mostly, you just overhear him talking with others. He is somehow anywhere and everywhere. 

Your focus is fractured. You do your best to get back to your task but can’t help but check the clock every thirty seconds. Somehow, you’re still late. You save your work and shut down, scrambling out as the new silence of the office sets in. 

You swipe up your bag and scurry between the desks. The elevator door closes before you reach it. You’ll wait for the next or... You take the stairs. It’s only a few flights but you’ve been sitting all day. Your legs are stiff as you get to the bottom. 

You come out in the lobby. Your coworkers are on their way to the front door, garbling even louder than they had upstairs. You hesitate, wondering if you could just sneak back up. Would anyone notice? 

Your name splinters the thought. Clark waves at you and stops to wait as the others continue through the door. Right, you’ve been spotted. You flutter your fingers at him and cross the lobby. He holds the door as he always does. 

You pass through ahead of him, “thanks.” 

“Don’t worry, we didn’t forget you,” he assures as he follows. “Gil’s driving us,” he points across the lot. 

“Right, awesome.” 

You get to the grey minivan as the doors slide back. Several other groups cluster around other vehicles in their assigned car pools. You wait patiently with Clark as your coworkers claim their seats. 

“Oh,” Gil stands by the driver door, “think we’re outta seats.” 

You and Clark stand staring at one seat. You cringe. Of course. 

“It’s okay. I can get an uber or check with...” 

Sandra’s white SUV backs out and Don’s Honda is too small for much more than a few. You turn back, “I can find my own way.” 

“We can squeeze in,” Clark says, “what is it? A ten-minute trip?” 

“Something like that,” Gil agrees. 

“Here,” Clark gets in the seat, “I’m bigger, just hop on.” 

“Just don’t be obvious about it, I don’t need a ticket.” 

Gil gets in the front as Clark climbs into the back seat. The others are too distracted chatting about some sports game to pay any heed. You stare at him. He's big man; wide shoulders, tall, the very definition of burly.

“Come on, it’ll be quick,” he fixes his glasses. 

“Erm,” you swallow. How awkward. Still, you don’t want to make a big deal. You already feel like a leftover. 

You get in and squeeze into the tight space between the seats. He pulls the door shut, his knees pressing into your legs, and you fall onto his lap. You let out an oof and feel around for something to steady yourself. 

You grab onto his forearm unwittingly, “sorry, I...” 

“All good,” he shifts under you, “comfortable?” 

“Um, I guess,” you put your hand up to brace the ceiling. 

“Let’s go,” Carrie demands from the backseat. “I need a martini.” 

The van reverses then swerves around. You jostle on Clark’s lap, squeaking at the bounce of the axle. The well-worn minivan has been through it. 

As Gil turns out of the lot, you grab onto the door to keep from sliding. Clark hooks his arm around you to keep you still. You shudder and try to adjust yourself, only pressing more firmly in his lap. 

You apologise again. 

“It’s fine,” he chuckles. “So, you got a lot of work?” 

“Um, sure,” you’re happy he’s at least trying to break the tension. “Without Drea, things are going to be, er, tight.” 

A pot hole bounces you and makes him grunt. Heat creeps up from your thighs and encases your torso. It’s even more awkward than you could expect. You didn’t have time to think this through.  

“Yeah, I can imagine but I’m sure they’ll fill her spot soon,” he assures. 

“Maybe,” you agree thinly. 

Another jolt. The city really needs to work on the roads. You hold onto the door as Clark’s arm tightens around you. He groans with the motion of the car. You crane to see around the driver seat. You gotta be getting close. 

“Well...” his voice is strained. Are you too heavy? “You know, there’s lots of people who can help out.” 

As the van passes over the lip of the parking lot, something pokes into you from below. You gulp and latch onto the seat in front of you. It can’t be. Clark pulls his arm back and spreads his large hand over your stomach. His other hand pushes down on your thigh. You feel him twitch under you and the prodding is more obvious. 

“Yeah, we’ll figure it out,” you squeak. 

Gil finally finds a spot but there’s no relief to be had. You’re pretty sure you know what’s poking into you and you don’t want to embarrass your coworker. As the van stops, you twist in his lap, unintentionally grinding into him. 

You grab onto the door, fighting to pull it back, only managing to rock against Clark as you struggle. He lets out a long breath and reaches over to help you. His other hand trails around your back and nudges you out slowly. 

You eagerly hop out ahead of him. He groans and takes his time. You don’t look back, instead focusing on the restaurant marquee. The other laugh again as some joke you didn’t catch. Gil is on his phone as he gets out. 

“I’ll follow, wife’s calling,” he gestures you with a flick of his fingers. 

“Come on,” Clark gets out and closes the door. “I’m starving.” 

You walk up next to him, following the rest of the group. Another bunch of your coworkers reach the door ahead of them. Clark clears his throat and your gaze is drawn to him as he tugs at his belt. How horrifying. Hopefully, you can find a seat away from him or the elephant in the room will be standing right on your chest. 

You hurry ahead to catch the door behind your coworkers. Clark grabs it past your head and stays close. You approach the reserved table but find most of it is already claimed. There’s a space at the end of the bench. 

You go down and sidle beside the table. Clark takes your lead again. The bench spans the wall and you’re penned into the corner as he sits beside you. He leans one arm on the table as he looks down at the menu. You lean forward to do the same. It’s a good distraction. If neither of you mention what happened, then you’ll get through this. 

“What’re you thinking?” Clark asks. 

“Huh?” You look at him, startled. 

“What’re you going to get?” He taps the menu, “some interesting stuff. 

“Oh, I’m still looking,” you say. 

You put your head down and drag a finger over the options. As you do, you feel a tickle along the side of your skirt. You wrestle between the pad thai and the salmon salad as the sensation creeps over your thigh. 

You tense as warmth spreads over your thigh. You lean back and look down, realising that Clark’s hand is on your leg. He kneads your thigh as he stays perfectly unaffected above the table. He leans on his elbow and sucks his teeth. 

“Pasta sounds good but it feels too early for that,” he muses. 

What do you do? You look around. No one else has any clue. You’re too self-conscious to say anything. He could just move his hand and say you’re lying. Then what? Besides, you were sitting on his lap a few moments ago. What would they think? 

Clark’s leg moves wide and presses against yours as he hums, “you know, I just can’t figure out what exactly I’m craving,” his hand trails down to the hem of your skirt. “But I am starving.” 

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

On Galadriel’s Whitewashing by the Fandom

Allow me to rant. Because at this point I really have to ask this: what show have you all been watching? Many say that Sauron deceives the audience, but it was actually Galadriel who deceived you all, really.

In Season 1 and Season 2, we saw Galadriel using others left and right, for her own ends (including Halbrand, Míriel, Adar, etc.). Her character introduction in Season 1, was her beating the sh*t out of some kids over a paper boat. Then, we saw her treating her companions’ lives as if they meant nothing to her. This alone should tell you something, but no, you wanted to see the “feminist hero” that never was. She was acting like... Sauron, when he ditched the humans on the raft. 

Nah, you think?

Throughout Season 1, she was arrogant, high on herself and downright offensive to pretty much every character she came across. She was constantly acting as if she was better than everyone else, and others were beneath her, because of her delusions of grandeur. She disobeys Gil-galad over and over again because she doesn’t truly recognize his authority. He’s younger than her, and in her mind she’s the one who should be High Queen of the Noldor, because she’s the only surviving child of High King Finarfin. She lied and manipulated others to her own ends... like Sauron.

When your ways of manipulation are more radical than Sauron’s.

Allow me to say this once more: “Rings of Power” has Tolkien experts to assist with the writings of the scripts. Christian doctrine and preaching is a huge deal on Tolkien’s work, and even if the show producers don’t see it or don’t recognize it, it’s still there because it’s inevitable, you can't work Tolkien without it.

What does this mean? Galadriel is not a hero. Pride and greed are not good traits in Tolkien lore. She’s not one of the “good guys”. Not yet, and she’ll only get worse before she gets better. She’s not a villain, either; she’s an anti-hero like Adar. Why do you all think Satan’s little helper Sauron got so interested in her, in the first place? 

When Sauron of all characters gives you the side-eye and tells you to chill and tone down your antagonistic behavior.

And was she deceived by Sauron or did she deceive herself? Because Elrond, as usual, is right, and that’s why he calls her out on her bullsh*t in Season 2: Galadriel wanted the lost king who could ride her to victory, to destroy Sauron and cover herself in glory, being worshipped by everyone on Middle-earth as its savior. She wanted to use Halbrand as a pawn in her big plan, and it’s mind blowing she actually fell in love with him. Does this ring any bells? It’s because it’s Sauron’s plan, too. They are alike. Everyone agrees, but doesn’t realize just how much.

You think they showed us these glorious shots of them for “good” reasons? This is the first of Mairon’s deceptions on Season 1, another step closer to evil and his old ways. This is them high on power and on themselves.

Gil-galad foresaw that Galadriel would bring back Sauron if her pursuit for him would to continue. That’s why he sent her back to Valinor, in the first place. Guess what? He was right. It was Galadriel’s actions that condemned Middle-earth to Sauron’s tyranny. In the legendarium, the Elves are also the ones to blame. And what consequences did she faced for this? Enduring Elrond in charge for two episodes until she went rogue? Or perhaps the Valar have already banished her, and the show failed to mention this. 

Preach it, brother!

Elrond was also the only character who could see through Sauron’s “rings of power” masterplan (must be that Melian’s Maia blood kicking in), until he was deceived himself, as well, and now he also thinks the rings are a good thing. Because these rings allowed the Elves to “cheat death” and stay where they don’t belong. “Rings of Power” made this point very clear in Season 1: the Southlanders don’t want the Elves on their lands, they are invaders.

In truth, all of these characters are not only Sauron’s accomplices, but are feeding off his power, but they are acting as if they are the “good guys” here, and they need to save Middle-earth from the new Dark Lord. No wonder the Valar told them to f*ck off, and only sent a few helpers who didn’t even dealt with Sauron directly, even though they (being Maiar themselves) had the power to do that.

Long story, short: for the love of Eru, stop whitewashing Galadriel’s character, or believing her to be some sort of “Virgin Mary” nonsense type of character. Or if you actually think her behavior is somehow heroic I don’t even know what to tell you, honestly. Because it’s not suppose to be. And if you were upset with her “toning down” in Season 2, oh boy, I might have bad news for you.

We should appreciate Galadriel’s character for what it is; an anti-hero seeking redemption. She f*cks up a lot, is flawed, and makes huge mistakes, and that’s what will make her character arc feel earned and compelling. In that way, she’s the opposite of Sauron; as he falls into evil, she raises up to good; the Lady of Light and the Dark Lord. This is actually refreshing in the midst of so many boring-ass one-dimensional female characters we see nowadays, an ideal of perfection no one can relate to.

[reccyls]

Beyond the Merging of Then and Now (Gilbert story)

Gilbert's 4th anniversary story sale, where child Gilbert is brought to the future to meet Emma and current Gilbert

---

Today, Prince Gilbert was in an unprecedented foul mood.

Young Gilbert: Miss, play with me.

Emma: Umm...

Gilbert: Absolutely not. Emma is mine, so you should back off.

Young Gilbert: But you're me as an adult, aren't you? So if something is yours, then it's mine too.

Young Gilbert: Ah, sorry. I didn't mean that you were a thing, miss. I'll be more careful with my words.

Young Gilbert: So... we really can't play?

(I have no idea why a child Gilbert appeared...)

(This must be the sweet and innocent version of Gilbert that I kept hearing about.)

(He's so much cuter than I thought, and so polite too!)

Emma: Of course we can. What do you want to play?

Young Gilbert: Really? I want to go for a walk!

Emma: I was just thinking that the weather today was perfect for a picnic.

Young Gilbert: A picnic!

Gilbert: Little rabbit, don't give in so easily.

Emma: I have to. He's just so cute I want to give him everything he asks for.

Gilbert: You don't give me everything I ask for.

Young Gilbert: You're so petty, adult me.

Young Gilbert: I'm feeling fine today. I can do it.

Gilbert: Because you're so useless that it disgusts me, young me.

Gilbert: And yet you still think you can take a single step outside of this room?

Gilbert: You have no idea how badly you're doing.

Young Gilbert: Miss, please believe me.

(That's right. Prince Gilbert had been sickly ever since he was young.)

(In that case, it'd be best for him not to push himself too hard--)

Emma: I... okay.

(Who could say no to those puppy dog eyes!)

Gilbert: ......

Emma: A-as soon as his condition takes a turn for the worse, we'll come back immediately.

Young Gilbert: ...I really turn out like that when I grow up?

Gilbert: ...Do you promise?

Gilbert: I'll sulk if you spend all your time paying attention to that thing instead of me.

Gilbert: You do, you little fool.

Emma: Gil...

Gilbert: You'll understand soon, just how stupid I was as a child.

--scene change, hallway--

Young Gilbert: Hah.... hah.....

Emma: Wha!? Are you okay!?

Young Gilbert: I'm okay...

Gilbert: What did I say? Don't just go along with what he wants.

Gilbert: No matter how healthy he claims to be, a few steps and this is what he's reduced to.

Gilbert: You can see for yourself right now, can't you?

Gilbert: How pathetic.

Emma: Anyway, let's go back inside now!

Young Gilbert: I don't want to.

Emma: But it's going to be really bad if you start getting any worse.

Young Gilbert: Albert says that all the time... He says I shouldn't leave my room...

Young Gilbert: But I want to feel the wind... Real wind, around my whole body. Not just the wind that comes in through the window... *cough*

Young Gilbert: Wait, miss... I'm okay, so just a little bit longer...

Gilbert: Albert told you time and time again why you shouldn't leave your room, and you just don't get it. Honestly, I'm starting to get angry.

Gilbert: Well, it doesn't matter. Time to keep your promise, little rabbit.

Emma: Ah! Right! Gil, is it okay to bring him to your research lab?

(Gil is right, it would probably be better to return inside immediately...)

(But I can't say no to little Gilbert!)

(What to do...)

Gilbert: What?

Emma: It's partially open, you can definitely feel the breeze there.

Young Gilbert: Research lab...?

Gilbert: No way.

Emma: After this I promise to do anything you want.

Gilbert: ...Well, if you put it like that, fine.

Emma: Thank you!

(I feel like I just made a very scary deal, but now's not the time to worry about that.)

Emma: Um, Little Gil? I'll carry you there, come here.

Young Gilbert: Really? Okay then-

Gilbert: You know there's no way I'd actually allow that, right?

Young Gilbert: Waaa!?

Emma: Gil! Don't just yank him up by the collar like that!

Gilbert: It's me, so it's fine.

Emma: Do you want me to break up with you!?

Gilbert: .......

Young Gilbert: Oooh, she got angry at you.

Gilbert: What's that? You want me to drop you?

Young Gilbert: I'm sorry, please don't drop me.

Gilbert: Ugh... Why won't you just disappear?

--scene change, research lab--

(...I thought Gilbert really liked kids.)

(Why does he hate his past self so much?)

Young Gilbert: Wow, this place is amazing! I didn't think the castle could have a room like this!

Young Gilbert: There's so many plants everywhere, and the wind feels really good... I want to stay here forever...

Young Gilbert: I don't feel like I'm really alive when I'm stuck in my room all day...

Young Gilbert: But if I stayed somewhere like this, I really feel alive.

Gilbert: ...You say that, and yet you're running a fever after just a few minutes in the breeze.

(He really, really wanted to go outside.)

(Is that why Prince Gilbert had this room made as an adult?)

Emma: Huh?

Young Gilbert: I-I don't have a fever.

(And that's not a suspicious denial at all... Come to think of it, his face does seem a little flushed.)

Emma: Little Gil?

Young Gilbert: This is normal.

Emma: Let me feel your forehead for a bit.

Emma: Oh no, you really are warm...

Gilbert: Of course I am. I'm not weak like you .

Young Gilbert: Ugh...

Young Gilbert: ...But adult me is okay?

Emma: Are you sure? You're not pushing yourself too hard?

Young Gilbert: That means I get all better when I grow up.

Young Gilbert: So I'm okay.

(...To say that to a young child...)

Young Gilbert: Mmhm. Um... I've always been weak, since I was born.

Young Gilbert: The doctor told me that I probably wouldn't live for very long.

Gilbert: ......

Young Gilbert: But, if this really is the future, then that means I survive.

Young Gilbert: I'm really happy to know that.

Emma: Gil...

Young Gilbert: Hey, if I can go and walk outside, that means I can help with official work too, right?

Young Gilbert: Is Albert doing okay? Do you help Albert with his work?

Young Gilbert: I always wanted to be able to help Albert when I got better.

Young Gilbert: And mother too... I have to take care of her too, because she always worries about me.

Young Gilbert: Where are they right now?

Young Gilbert: Miss? Why are you patting my head?

(........I'm sorry.)

(...I can't say any more than that.)

Emma: ...You're a good kid, Gil.

(He really doesn't know anything.)

(Not about the darkness in Obsidian, because his brother and mother had kept it hidden from him.)

(That must be why Prince Gilbert can't stand his child self.)

(Because his innocence is a result of ignorance.)

Young Gilbert: I am?

Emma: Yes, you are. I'm rooting for you to get better soon.

Young Gilbert: ...Thank you, miss.

Gilbert: Are you just going to pat him, when I'm standing right here?

Emma: ...Is it okay?

Gilbert: Of course it is.

Young Gilbert: But you're a grown up.

Gilbert: That doesn't matter. All that matters is that I like my little rabbit a lot.

Young Gilbert: I like her too!

Gilbert: Oh? Are you asking for a fight?

Emma: Stop right there, no fighting! Please get along with each other.

(.......)

Gilbert: It's impossible.

Gilbert: ...Looking at myself at this age, it's just too much.

With one hand, I ruffled Little Gil's hair, and the other did the same for the adult Prince Gilbert.

The movements were the same, but the underlying emotions behind each gesture was different...

Looking up at the sky, I felt my eyes blurring, just a little.

[shelleysmary]

okay, but in all seriousness, is elrond being too hard on galadriel? the answer is yes. but he is also much younger than her and i think a lot of us can relate to that feeling of being in our early-to-mid-20s and feeling like "right is here, and wrong is there, and why can't these older people see it." sometimes that kind of clarity is needed. this is why generational friction exists, is natural, is necessary to the movements of society. elrond standing up to galadriel and gil-galad after spending s1 mostly in service to them is refreshing because he's finding his voice, he's owning the fact that he is not content to be a herald writing and delivering speeches for others. he cares and he wants to make a difference and speaking out against the rings has been the catalyst for that. at this point in the story elrond is already so many of the things he goes on to be in the third age. he is loyal. he is perceptive. he is wise. but he also lacks experience. he has never been tempted away from the light - probably ever, certainly not by the great deceiver. so it's easy for him to look at galadriel's folly and say "you should have known better. the darkness corrupted you and you let it happen, in part because you wanted it to happen." which technically is a true statement, but the way it feels to galadriel is much different and much more complex, and it's different to us as well because we've been with her every step of the way. we were also seduced by sauron - we were also deceived. but elrond wasn't there. he knows that sauron manipulated his friend; he doesn't know how deeply that manipulation affected her and affects her still, in no small part because galadriel contains a lot of her grief in order to fulfill her roles of commander and self-appointed bulwark against sauron.

we see her in eps1 and 2 desperately trying to make elrond understand her, but elrond doesn't want to hear it. he is frustrated at not being listened to, disappointed in gil-galad and galadriel's willingness to engage with the rings (which, to him, is equivalent to engaging with sauron, for all that he had no hand in their forging), and i would posit that he is also afraid. for middle-earth. for his friends. for himself. because his clarity of vision is being challenged, the right way is becoming obscured, and the stakes have never been higher.

in time, he will learn how easy it is to fall prey to the darkness and - like miv said in an interview - it will make him kinder. the elrond we know in the third age is devoted to healing, unburdening, and the practice of an extraordinary compassion. but those qualities aren't built-in to anyone, not even the first children of iúvatar, not even elrond. they are hard-won - through mistakes made, failures to act as one should. it's natural that he would hurt people along the way - and he has! see durin in s1! what we do know about elrond in the second age is that he tries his best to do good: to act rightly, to keep his word, to seek counsel when he is unsure of the way, to serve all middle-earth and not just elven-kind, to be true to his friends, honor his family... and he isn't afraid to admit when he's been wrong.

if these first eps are any indication, elrond's arc is going to keep carving him into the elf he later becomes and his relationship with galadriel, after these growing pains, is going to come out even stronger, with the mutual trust and near-telepathic understanding we're used to seeing from them in third age media, and i for one can't wait.

[softquietsteadylove]

Thena is at a tournament and the club decides to fly Gil there to just to keep an eye on Olympia in case she runs away again. Towards the end Thena spots him among the crowd

For the dressage one please 🖤🖤🖤🖤💖

Thena accepted the bouquet, waving to the crowd. It was just a formality, and one she did not enjoy. Winning competitions was why the club kept her, but she was never good at the publicity aspect of her job.

The pictures were being snapped loudly, camera flashes bombarding her eyes on the already blindingly sunny day. She tried not to squint though, having been told by Ajak and Sersi not to.

A hand waved at her from the crowd. It was one of many, but this one actually mattered.

Thena beamed, waving back a little more enthusiastically. She knew he would come.

Well, she hadn't exactly phrased it as a question when she had mentioned this particular tournament requiring travel. And she wanted him there to care for Olympia, since returning victors were allowed to bring in outside help for their horses.

Gil had readily agreed, even offered to pay for his flight, which she had assured him was not necessary. He was doing her a favour, and it would count as overtime for his work, too. And, perhaps, in the deepest recesses of her mind, it felt reassuring to have someone there who she actually knew.

She wouldn't say she was nervous for a competition ever, but the solitude could be stifling at times when it was just her and equestrian reporters and photographers. And they didn't even allow the horses to roam free while they were there!

"Thena, as the returning champion, what was your preparation for this tournament like?"

She did her best not to seem like she was scowling at the microphone shoved in her face. She also had to resist the urge to state that her method was the same for this tournament as all the others; train and aim to win.

"Olympia and I trained for the highest jumps possible," she answered carefully, remembering the media training she had received. "She's cared for exceedingly well at the club, so I'm lucky to have such a reliable partner when I'm out there."

Other riders never credited their horses properly, and it always pissed her off.

"The club must have top of the line care!"

She looked out at the stands again before leaning down to the microphone. "It's not the club. It's Gilgamesh--he works for the club, but he's the best at what he does, no matter where he is. He's the only one I entrust with my horse's care."

She could practically see him now, blushing and waving off her compliments with a modest smile.

Reporters scribbled down his name. Perhaps he would finally get even a shred of the recognition he deserved.

"Do you have any well wishes for your fellow competitors in other tournaments, Ikaris and Eros?"

"No." The crowd laughed, and she never knew why they did that. She wasn't joking. But it might get her out of here sooner.

"So, who's here with you today?"

She shifted the awkward bouquet in her arms again. The lights were becoming too much to bear. "No one."

"Don't you have a personal jockey to assist in tournaments?"

"No," she shook her head, starting to look around. She was hoping to get a glimpse of Gil again but there were too many cameras and microphones in the way. "I brought care of Olympia, but-"

"You registered yourself and a guest, it was assumed-"

"I think that's all the time I have," she smiled, attempting to be polite about needing out of the hornet's nest right that second. She clutched the flowers tighter. She didn't care if they got squished.

"Thena, wait!"

She left the winner's circle, attempting to navigate the flock by herself. She didn't remember the crowd for the last tournament being quite so claustrophobic.

"If you'll excuse us, Olympia needs tending to."

A firm but gentle hand reached in and pulled her out by the arm. She stumbled faintly but Gil made their way back to where Olympia was indeed waiting for them. She smiled, "you're a life saver."

"I get the feeling the media isn't really your thing," he chuckled, turning just so he could walk beside her outside the thickest part of the crowd. He even took the flowers for her, careful not to crush them (the way she had). "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks," she smiled, finally able to breathe easier now that she was walking with him. it almost felt like any other day when she could see him at the club. "And thank you, Gil, for being here."

"I'm happy to," he shrugged at her. "And seeing you compete was pretty impressive. I can see why they call you the Goddess of War."

Thena rolled her eyes, attempting to downplay the warmth building in her cheeks, "oh, stop. It's a silly nickname."

"It's a title," he corrected her with a chuckle. He opened the gate to Olympia's stall, letting her in first. "What do you think, girl?"

Olympia whinnied loudly, still full of adrenaline from their event. Her tail swished and flicked, although the braids in it for show were holding up well.

"Were you good for Gil?" Thena asked her trusty partner, whose nose bobbed excitedly in her hold. "I should hope so. Neither of us needs the embarrassment of you running off again."

Olympia's ear twitched. She didn't need to be reminded of that.

"That's what I thought," Thena murmured, although she ran her hand down Olympia's nose lovingly. Her other hand patted the laurel of flowers hung around the poor creature's neck as well. "Shall we get this off you?"

Gil did the honours, and Olympia obediently lowered her head to let him. The tournament assistants who had placed it on her had not gotten away with it so smoothly, getting nipped at by her at the time. But Gil patted her cheek, "that's better, huh? Roses aren't really your thing."

If she could, the mare would surely be rolling her eyes just like her rider.

"It's just tonight," Thena promised her, still holding her head and smoothing down her fur as Gil brushed her properly, if briefly. "We'll head home as soon as we can tomorrow."

Olympia huffed, but nudged Thena's whole upper body with her massive head. She, too, was ready to go home after all the excitement.

"Don't worry girl, I've got your dinner all prepped," Gil added, much to her delight. He chuckled as her ears perked and swivelled. "And I swiped some apples from the hotel breakfast for you."

Thena laughed faintly as well as he pulled two golden apples out of his jacket pockets. "Gil, the breakfast is free, you hardly needed to smuggle them here."

"Well, I didn't know how they felt about outside food here," he admitted, even glancing around them nervously. "But I wanted her to have a nice treat after all her hard work."

"No one would say anything to you, surely," she murmured, also looking around them. No one had better dare to say anything to him, rather. Or they would have her exchanging some words for which the club would definitely have to issue a formal apology.

"I'll come back after dinner," Gil promised as he patted Olympia's nose, moving alongside Thena to take their leave. "Bring her some oat cakes to make up for all the carbs she's burned."

Thena shook her head. The previous caretakers at the club could barely be argued into attending to Olympia just before they left club grounds right as dinner was served. Gil's devotion to going above and beyond for her horse never ceased to amaze her. "Heracles will be jealous you spoiled her like this."

"Well, that little shit can get spoiled too if he learns to behave."

Thena laughed, following Gil out of the stable. "They're holding a dinner for the victors, are you coming?"

"Oh," he blushed, squeezing her roses faintly, "I-I was just gonna get the hotel buffet again-"

"Nonsense," Thena discouraged. She pulled at her hair to release it from its painfully tight bun. "I invited you here, the least I can do is see to it that you get a proper meal out of it."

She didn't have to request he come with her. But in truth, she had wanted a familiar face when she was facing one of the biggest tournaments of her career. She had wanted his smile, and his familiar face, and his wave to be here.

The least she could do was take him to dinner.

[cottoncandiescupcakes]

I'll be honest to TROP haters that say it changed too much of the material I mean YES you are right but so did Peter Jackson

I mean Arwen's fate being tied to the ring? Arwen saving Frodo instead of Glorfindel, a very important elf who actually slayed a Balrog, who wasn't in the movie at all. Tom Bombadil, Goldberry and Old Man Willow also weren't in it

Also Tolkien would not be happy with Gimli's fairly undignified treatment at times and also, Legolas' 'orc counter',

Legolas would never happily kill he'd do it to save his friends and for Middle Earth obviously but he's not going around treating killing orcs like a kind of action game having fun doing it

Also for some reason he made Thranduil almost a kind of villainous character though he does redeem himself(and looks fabulous doing it) and I do love this character but it's not very accurate to Tolkien's thoughts on this character which was literally just a typical elf king who mistrusted dwarves and rightfully imprisoned a bunch of dwarves sneaking into his woods

Other things Peter Jackson did he made Denethor WAY more evil than in the books. In the books he's basically a broken, grieving very old man who has lost it versus a 50-60 or something year old man just ranting and raving on everyone going crazy

Another thing Peter Jackson did was make the evil characters like Saruman and Grima way more obviously evil than the book ones so you could instantly tell they were evil, which, the point was they decieved people. That Grima decieves no one lol.

So he changed a LOT of things about the characters, for example Aragorn looks like, you know he's going to be heroic from the start just because of Viggo's bearing but he's meant to be almost unattractive and scary looking at first, then slowly becomes like a king and noble and handsome looking. Like, Pippin literally says he looks foul LMAO I am serious. Boromir is meant to be the perfect gallant hero looking one who almost falls to temptation where Aragorn is meant to look very rough but have a noble heart, they are like foils

I love those movies but he also did change a lot but especially, PJ's work glorifies war too much for Tolkien's standpoint, not always but there are scenes he's making it too action-y while other scenes, like Boromir and Theoden's deaths, are perfect

Also BOTH these works make the elves too serious, like, the books have the elves singing, playing tricks and carrying harps and flutes around and acting more like Medieval fairy ring style elves at times along with being more serious also, they had both sides to them while adaptations just make them very dignified

I know Gil-Galad misses his harp guys HE WAS ALREADY SINGING. Free him

[neyafromfrance95]

i usually try to not indulge in theorizing and prefer to analyze what we got at hand instead.

but! i just can't keep myself from contributing to this one speculation.

let's look at adar's warning to galadriel:

"but sooner or later, he sees you. not just who you are, but who you wish to be. his eye bores a hole and the rest of him slithers in. for a while, he even makes you believe that his power has become yours. irresistible power… that makes every desire’s fulfillment seem inevitable. an ocean of color."

it is insane how precisely this line parallels the fight -> awakening sequence!

first, sauron tells galadriel that he sees her while she is crawling on the ground. he tells her that he sees her as a queen worthy of worship as he pierces and penetrates her flesh with morgoth's crown, doesn't let her break the eye contact as he pushes in. then he suddenly starts talking to her in her mind?! for what reason? maybe to make sure their bond is established/strengthened. her wound is clearly shaped like sauron's eye and we see sauron frantically trying to see her after she jumps. it's interesting that right after we see sauron looking like smtng caught his attention, we see galadriel through a tunnel vision, maybe to indicate that it's sauron seeing her? and from gil-galad, we learn that morgoth's crown slithered in some sort of substance that is pulling her into the darkness. then suddenly, even tho she is still in the process of healing, it's implied that she is seeing the surroundings in the beautiful, vivid colors...

could it be that sauron has shared his powers with her through their bond? that would explain her own powers in lotr and sauron still groping to see her mind. have the doors for these storylines been opened in this season's finale?

galadriel thinking she has fully resisted the darkness and then it turning out that her fight with the darkness has just started would subvert not only the viewers' expectations, but galadriel's as well, and it would fit her conversation with adar when she confidently tells him she has resisted and he warns her that it's just temporary!

what if she does not bind him to the light, but he still binds her to power!!!

she doesn't let him worship her, so in a way, he takes an ownership of her!!!

i think there is no question that sauron stabbing galadriel with the same crown he was stabbed with is supposed to signify a binding. but could this binding manifest in more explicit ways than in a subtext?

now, i do not like to theorize bc these theories may simply not come true, yk? but i rather hold onto this hope than dread the possibility of them pushing galadriel into the background, completely stripping her off of any complexity and watering her down, turning her into a stay-at-home tradwife that she never was in any canon whatsoever.

i don't care if we get haladriel romance explicitly, but we can't have the incelbros winning!

[leletha-jann]

Headcanon on reasonable evidence, actually: Every Heterodyne gets their own specific pack of Jägermonster guards.

Yes, the Jägermonsters are all sworn to the family in general, but Heterodynes do unreasonable and dangerous things on absolutely no notice, and it's helpful to have a specific set of personal guards who know them as individuals well enough to respond immediately. (Of course, Jägers think this sounds like fun.)

Agatha having Dimo, Maxim, and Oggie on more or less permanent assignment to her isn't unusual; it's normal. They know this, and have encouraged her to fall into a pattern they were expecting, actually, and she didn't take any steering at all. On some instinctive level she was expecting it too. Even if Dimo keeps his promotion to General, he'll be a General on the move, from wherever Agatha happens to be. They'll be with her for the rest of her life.

Consorts get their own squads, too. At some point in the future, Gil and Tarvek both acquire a handful of their own personal Jägers, sottle-like. (They notice it happen anyway.)

Jorgi is absolutely one of Tarvek's squad, because there's no way he wasn't designed to be Tarvek's personal guard Jäger, and it will be hilarious.

I'd also love to see Agatha assign Jenka to him, because Tarvek's recently on record as missing his personal spy network, and he and Jenka would have that up and running in no time flat. They'd have fun. (Jenka doesn't hold "being Andronicus Valois' descendent" against him, because Tarvek's loyalties are firmly with Agatha, and they share a "to hell with that family in particular" attitude.) Also, it would be a neat little parallel with Tarvek giving Violetta to Agatha. Agatha could give him a sneaky lady who can kick his ass (and will if when needed) right back. For maximum humor, Füst should take to Tarvek exactly the same way the wasp eaters did.

(this, but with JAGER BEAR)

I don't know if Gil ends up with Vole as one of his pack, because I don't know where the Foglios are going with him. But I nominate this guy from book one:

And this guy from book 14:

to follow Gil around and be reassuring to him periodically.

Higgs has sort of ended up as immediate supervision of the entire triumvirate. Whichever of them is in reach, or all three of them at once. Insert Higgs looking really deadpan tired here. This face. Forever.

Jägers get EXTREMELY excited when they learn a new baby Heterodyne is on the way, and start campaigning to be on the baby's personal guard squad immediately. Of course, being Jägers, there's a lot of biting involved. I imagine months of Jägers challenging each other, not just to fights, because they did all that already, but to increasingly ridiculous and pointless challenges that they're both making up on the spot and obsessively keeping track of. The only real rule is that if you challenge someone to something, you have to do it too (otherwise how will you know who won?) They challenge each other one on one, or everyone in sight. This leads to things like most of the Jägerhorde running a screaming, pushing, biting, brawling egg-and-spoon race down the longest street in Mechanicsburg. The townsfolk line up to watch and cheer. (They're considered a course hazard, so they get to throw things.) Whoever's currently winning (don't ask me how that points math works) when the baby is born gets assigned to the baby.

Bill and Barry both had their own Jäger squads and never knew it, because their guards weren't allowed anywhere near them. Theodora was pretty much out there with a shotgun if she heard even the hint of a Jägermonster accent. Those Jägers still resent it. They feel robbed of their (most recent) chance to be trusted favorites. They might get special-pleading rights in the next tournament-to-guard-the-new-baby, assuming their brothers aren't completely fed up with their whining about it by now.

Klaus Barry had his own guards, but Bill didn't know because the Jägers were barely even allowed in the Castle by that point, so they just didn't tell him. Master of Mechanicsburg or not, the Jägers didn't trust him not to send them away even further (and rightly so).

Nobody volunteered to guard Lucrezia. Bill didn't understand the insult in that, and the townspeople didn't tell him. But every single one of them NOTICED. Ho yez.

There are only so many Jägermonsters, so by this point everyone who's still alive has been in a personal guard squad at least once. Collectively, the Jägermonsters know all the gossip, going back centuries. They'll never tell. If pressed, they suddenly lose the ability to remember last week, much less 1528. They can't be bribed, not even with alcohol, although they encourage people to try.

Canon: Jenka was in Euphrosnia's personal guard.

Seen elsewhere on Tumblr but I forgot to reblog it: Vole was one of Saturnus' pack, which is why he tried to kill Bill and Barry. Saturnus had tried, after all, and Vole was most loyal to Saturnus in particular. (If this was your theory, let me know! Credit to you.)

TL;DR: Jägers running an egg-and-spoon race through Mechanicsburg. There. Now you have the highlight of this post.

Also: ä is alt-132 (using the keypad). NOW YOU KNOW. (hopefully I also now know, because this is like the fifth time I've tried to memorize that)

[rey-jake-therapist]

The difference of dynamics between Sauron/Galadriel and Sauron/Celebrimbor is very... interesting.

Sauron never said one word of lie to Galadriel. I mean, at at the end he lied about being the king of the Southlands, but he didn't lie to her, as directly, about it. But to Celebrimbor, he constantly lies through his teeth, without a care in the world.

While rewatching ROP season 1, it became even more obvious than the first time that Galadriel really made it all up without any encouragement from Sauron. And she didn't even have any solid reasons to believe that Halbrand was the lost king of the Southlands. All she had as "proof" was a symbol of long gone kingdom, that he said he found on a dead man, which was the truth. She wanted Halbrand to be special because he was special to her, and she had to find a reason why. And of course, him being the lost king of the Southlands served her interests, so she rode with it.

She's now pretending that Sauron manipulated her, that he "played her like a harp", but did he, really? He never encouraged her in any way. He even outright rejected her. He told her that he had done bad stuff, that he wasn't the hero that she sought. Basically, he just kept telling her "let it go, girl", but she didn't want to hear of it. She created an entire story she wanted to believe in, so yeah, after a while, Sauron being Sauron, he played along...

I believe that Sauron respected Galadriel, maybe even loved her, in his own kind of sick, twisted way of course... He would have never lied to her the way he's now doing with Celebrimbor. That's not the relationship he wanted with her. The connection they had was real, not manufactured by him.

And that's probably why she feels so bad and confused now. I think she wants to believe that he manipulated her, fooled her, because the truth seems much more horrible to her: that she has a unique, cosmic connection with a being that represents everything she hates and stands against. What does this connection say about her? Is she as bad as he is? Why, how did it even happen? Deep inside, she probably knows that Elrond and Gil-Galad are right and that she shouldn't face Sauron again, because there's indeed a risk that what she felt for him when she still believed him to be Halbrand, keeps growing and prevents her from doing what she's meant to do.

And if Galadriel's as wise as I think she is, she probably wonders what is the real reason why she wants to go find Sauron in Eregion: is it only because she wants to fight and defeat him? or is it her heart that wants to meet him again, desperately? The moment when she thinks of the moment they shared at the river, during her conversation with Elrond, is as poignant as Morfyd's performance in this moment... Deep inside, even she'll certainly deny it for a long time, this moment was real. She knew it then, and he knew it as well.

As poor Celebrimbor, well... He's nothing to Sauron. Only a tool, like almost everybody else who crosses his path. As soon as he doesn't need him anymore, he'll toss him away. But he'll probably remain obsessed with Galadriel for the rest of his life. And he will never totally leave her mind either. I mean...

"fair as the sea and the sun, stronger than the foundations of the earth."

4,959 years later...

She repeated his speech almost ad verbatim.

[theconstellationprincess]

Whumptober Day 15: Painful Hug, "I did good, right?"

After the battle, back in Lindon, Elrond and Gil-galad talk. Gil-galad is proud of his herald, even if Elrond does not seem to believe it.

-

Before they could begin preparing for the next fight, they had to recuperate from the last one. Elrond worked with the healers for the most part, though he was occasionally part of the meetings. It was odd to now be invited to the meetings that he had so desperately wanted to attend a few short months ago, and dread them. He only sees Gil-galad in the meetings- It is not that he is avoiding his High King but he does not want to face the disappointment he knows he will see in Gil-galad's eyes. The High King will try to hide it, of course, Elrond knows that Gil-galad does not wish to cause him any emotional harm, but Elrond failed him. Failed everyone.

This avoidance is why, upon finding Gil-galad standing near the entrance of the healing halls, Elrond freezes in place. The herbs in his hands fall from his slackened grip, and he blinks, brought back to reality. “High King,” Elrond greets, voice shaking slightly as he stoops to gather the dropped plants. He had been in the processing of rebundling them, so most of them had spread across the floor. He inhaled sharply when he saw Gil-galad bend in the corner of his vision, carefully averting his gaze and continuing his task. “Thank you,” Elrond whispers when they both stand and Gil-galad hands him a few of the scattered plants.

“Elrond, will you look at me?” There is a hand on Elrond’s chin, tilting it up, but he keeps his eyes facing downwards. If he can postpone this a little longer, even if just for a moment, maybe he will finally be prepared to face the hatred, the shame, the disappointment that will look back at him. He had known Gil-galad for a very long time, and to even consider the fact that he had ruined one of his oldest friendships was almost to much to bear. “Elrond.” Gil-galad’s voice is scolding now, but there is a desperation in his voice that catches Elrond off guard, and he looks towards his High King. 

He does not see anything he had expected to see, the gaze is clear of anger, instead filled with concern and hurt. Elrond swallows, breath catching in his throat, and he cannot help the way he leans into the hand holding his face, seeking the comfort. He had not considered that avoiding Gil-galad would cause any issues, but clearly it has. Elrond truly could not do anything right could he? His vision blurred and he blinked rapidly, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks until Gil-galad brushed them away. Gil-galad was always too kind to him, remains too kind to him, for he is comforting Elrond after Elrond had hurt him, had pulled away and isolated himself for no reason other than his own shame in facing his mistakes. Mistakes that, it appears, Gil-galad did not fault him for.

“What have you done to yourself, hmm? I’ve been told that you’re on edge, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that I hardly see you anymore.” Elrond opens his mouth, but his words dry up in his throat and nothing more than a whimper makes it out. Gil-galad sighs and pulls Elrond into a hug, cupping the back of his head with one hand and using the other to hold him tightly. “Shh, Elrond. The battle is over, you were good, you may take a moment to rest, just as the rest of the elves are.” The embrace is comforting, though it pains the sore spots he still has following the battle. Most of the cuts had healed, and bruises faded, but the broken ribs have taken far longer. But he dare not complain, lest Gil-galad pull away, because this was what he had been craving for so long and he has finally got it. 

“I did good?” Elrond asks into Gil-galad’s shoulder, where his head is tucked and slowly dampening the fabric with tears. There is a moment of silence that feels like it lasts an age, where Elrond feels his stomach drop, because perhaps Gil-galad did not mean his words. Gil-galad was a politician, like Elrond, and could lie easily, and Elrond would believe him. “I did good, right?” Elrond repeated, desperately, voice hoarse and shaking, but he needed to know. He needed to know that Gil-galad truly was not angry with him.

“You performed wonderfully, my dear herald. I am proud of you.” Gil-galad speaks slowly, but deliberately, his voice honest. Elrond would be suspicious, but he no longer has the energy for fighting. He collapses against his High King, legs failing beneath him and he hardly processes the grunt Gil-galad makes as he finds himself holding Elrond’s weight up. Relief overpowers Elrond, the knowledge that his High King still considers him worthy of pride, that he has not ruined their friendship as he had so feared. 

Gil-galad hums soothingly, supporting Elrond through the short walk to one of the beds nearby and sitting down with Elrond still clinging to him, now tucked against his side. It was quiet, and Elrond’s breaths were steadily slowing from panic to ease, much to Gil-galad's relief. “There’s no need to bear this burden alone,” Gil-galad murmured, his voice comforting but firm. “You have done more than enough, Elrond. You always do.” He ran his fingers through Elrond’s hair in slow strokes, and Elrond closed his eyes, exhausted, from the wild range in his emotions.

“I thought I’d disappointed you,” Elrond whispered, sniffling quietly. “I felt as though I had failed.”

Gil-galad shook his head, sighing with an exasperated fondness that made Elrond’s heart ache for his fathers. “You never disappoint me,” he said sadly, pausing his petting on Elrond’s hair to turn and look the peredhel in the eye. “You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you think it’s not enough. But it is, Elrond. It always has been.”

Elrond inhales sharply, and then lets a small, hesitant smile come over his face. He had spent so long avoiding this, avoiding Gil-galad, fearing the disappointment that never came. And here, in his High King’s arms, he felt the last of his defenses crumble, and for the first time since the battle, Elrond felt safe—truly, undeniably safe. They sat there in silence, the world outside their bubble of space momentarily unimportant.

“Rest now, my herald,” Gil-galad whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Elrond’s head. “There will be time for everything else later. For now, you need only to recover.”