#GIL: Language

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Do Timelord’s have their own curse words?

Do Time Lords have their own curse words?

Gallifreyan society has a lot of slang and common phrases, and we'll focus on the ruder ones here - y'know, the ones you probably don't want to use in front of your Gallifreyan grandma.

There aren't so many 'direct' translations of swear words, but rather phrases and slang more attached to their culture.

The conlang can offer more, and also provide translations for these (mostly English) phrases, but we'll just look at these canonical ones for now.

🤬 List of Swears

D'Arvit: Unspecified curse word, might be something like "dammit!"

Fall off!: Possibly equivalent to "get lost" or "f--k off".

For Rassilon's sake!: Similar to "for God's/f--k's sake".

Gjara'vont: "of darkest thought". Possibly used as an insult to call someone sick-minded.

Little sheetsnacker: Likely directed at someone considered annoying or insignificant.

Old Pythia: An insult for females, like "old hag." Due to its context, it's probably used as a derogatory term against powerful women.

Omega’s Orifice: Self-explanatory.

Otherf--ker: Self-explanatory.

Rassilon’s Blood/Rassilon's Death: A couple of particularly strong phrases for obvious reasons - don't wanna be insulting Rassilon.

Rassilon's Rod: Cruder one.

Scares the staazula out of me: "Scares the s--t out of me".

Shobogan: Gets used occasionally as an insult for people who are perceived as particularly stupid or uncultured.

Rot in a black star: "Go to hell".

Shell snacker: Referring to someone who consumes hallucinogenic substances, particularly cerub nuts.

Sweet mother of Chaos!: "Sweet mother of God!"

We’re scrubbed: "we're screwed/we're f--ked"

What the Omega!?: "what the hell/f--k!?"

Yssgaroth curse you: Pretty gnarly threat, where the speaker wants you to turn into an abomination.

I should note that during the Time War any use of the names Rassilon or Omega was considered blasphemous.

🔞 The Untranslatable Curse

There exists a Gallifreyan curse that has no English translation and is considered so rude that it's been deleted from the Matrix:

🏫 So ...

While there's not so much in the way of direct translations, Gallifreyans attach plenty of cultural nuance to their profanities. So if they insult you, they're doing it in an irritatingly clever way.

Related:

💬|🗣️👽Can humans/non-Gallifreyans learn to speak Gallifreyan?: How possible it would be to see a human speaking Gallifreyan.

💬|🗣️✍️How do Time Lords write dimensional coordinates?: How dimensional coordinates get written and work in TARDISes.

📺|🗣️⏲️The Timing of a Time Lord

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[thesummerestsolstice]

If anyone needs me I'm going to spend the next 75 hours chewing on my drywall thanks.

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

10 Things I Hate About You (1999, Gil Junger)

19/03/2025

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised • Save the Children • Lady Day and John Coltrane • Home Is Where the Hatred Is • When You Are Who You Are • I Think I'll Call It Morning • Pieces of a Man • A Sign of the Ages • Or Down You Fall • The Needle's Eye • The Prisoner

Submitter's note: While the lyricism in this album fuckin hits, just LISTEN to Ron Carter laying it down on the Bass!

Spotify ♪ SoundCloud ♪ YouTube

[nezuswritingdesk]

Yawa ang bago na event got me 😭😭

[lordgrimwing]

Awake

[for Glorfindel Week, hosted by @glorfindelweek, Day 4, part of the Silm ABO series]

Glorfindel listened to the strange noises around him. Eyes shut and breath kept carefully even, he tried to get a sense of what was happening without alerting anyone to his wakefulness. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious this time, but the pain in his stomach was less distracting now. 

Last time, he woke up suddenly, yanked back to consciousness by a deep, aching pain splitting his belly open as though the mýrennedí still had her teeth in him. He had a hazy memory of someone trying to speak with him, followed by an unsuccessful attempt to escape out the mouth of the bizarre cave they were in. Whoever these people were, they were not pleased by his disappearance. 

The cave opening sat on the side of a sheer cliff dotted with many other openings of identical size and shape. The pain made climbing hard, and he had to slip inside one of the other caves to rest. Fearing he’d fall if he tried climbing the rest of the way down, he tested his luck in the rabbit warren-like caves instead, hoping they were all connected and he could reach the ground. 

He bumped into many strangely dressed elves as he went. They either stared at him in surprise or squawked like vibrantly colored, unintelligible birds. A few tried to stop him, but he avoided them easily and kept running.

The elf from the first cavern caught up to him at about the same time he realized he’d started bleeding from the healing gashes in his stomach. He wasn’t steady on his feet by that point, stumbling down the passage with more than running, and the elf easily grabbed him. Everything was very confused after that, but they must have gotten back to where he started somehow. 

That brought him back to the present: still unable to make sense of what was going on but feeling less like he was crawling toward the flaming chasm of death—so that was good.

“You are awake?” Someone asked from near his head.

Well, pretending to sleep wasn’t working. It was time to figure out where he was and what happened. He opened his eyes.

The elf from earlier was gone, replaced by one of the strangers the mýrennedí tried eating. He recognized this one from the days he spent watching their camp before the attack, assessing if they were a threat to his people or just part of a strange tribe passing through. Quenhó, he’d named this one, because his odd appearance was reminiscent of images conjured up by the angoldos’ tales of lost spirits. He had been interesting to watch: he appeared to be some kind of healer, like an angoldo, as others in the group came to him when they were hurt.

Quenhó repeated the question, words spoken with the tone of someone who was trying to speak clearly after eating many fermented mesquite bean pods. “You are awake?”

Glorfindel blinked. “Yes.” His mouth felt dry.

“You are safe,” Quenhó said in very simple words, tongue stumbling.

Was he just learning to speak? Perhaps he actually was a lost spirit.

“Do not run again. You are hurt.” Quenhó pointed at his own stomach, hidden under layers of enough stifling fabric to make a sizable traveling tent, then down at Glorfindel’s while making a pained expression with his odd face.

Glorfindel agreed with the limited explanation. “Yes,” he said. “That is usually what happens to people who are caught by a mýrennedí. I’m lucky she didn’t kill me.” 

The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that he should have died. The fight took place far away from his people (though he’d watched the strangers long enough to know that they knew where his people lived, that they were specifically watching his people). Even if he had survived the journey back to be cared for by an angoldo, he’d seen though wounds like this to know a burning fire should have grown within him by the third day and finished what the large cat started.

Quenhó looked at him, his face twisted into an indecipherable mask. “You are hurt,” he repeated. “I am helping you.”

Glorfindel tilted his head against the thick, soft mat he was laying on. “Where am I?” He asked. “I’ve never seen caves like this. Do your people make caves like hares dig tunnels?”

“You are hurt.” This time, a hint of pleading entered the words.

Quenhó, whoever and whatever he was, had no idea what Glorfindel was saying.

[squirrelwrangler]

Had to double-check my math but even with the addition from this post, Ereinion Gil-galad is still enough cousins-removed that Elrond is his closest living relative. Or, okay, almost. He was first cousins to Idril (and Maeglin), so he is Elrond's first cousin twice-removed. Through his grandmother, Delieth, he is Celebrían's second cousin once-removed or Celeborn's first cousin twice removed, which is the same as Elrond but on the distaff line. And Delieth was close to estranged from her family, so nobody takes that bit of Nandorian ancestry into account like they do for Nimloth (second cousin once removed making Elwing a second cousin twice-removed and thus Elrond has that extra cousin tie). Gil-galad is second cousin to Finduilas, but Finduilas's mom raised him, he thinks of her practically as a sister. Círdan is still the main male paternal figure, but he also had Astordil, Annael's husband, and later Annael himself to impart the stories about his birthplace so Gil-galad still emotionally ties himself to his bio-parents and grandfather Fingolfin in what little way he can- but they are as much stories to him as Orodreth and Nargothrond. Still, he has that tie to Eärendil strongest via Idril-Turgon but also a bit via association adoption to Tuor.

[trevlad-sounds]

Invisible Waves 48.

01.12.2024

Intro 00:00 Bibio–LLYN PERIS 01:04 Chapter 1 03:37 Tsone–Plein Air 04:42 Fan Club Orchestra–Long Stay V 09:11 Chapter 2 13:28 George Sheridan–Otta! 15:44 Language Field–Modus Vivendi – Listening Center Remix 21:04

Arturia Pigments Precariat Records

video for the remix of Modus Vivendi

other videos too from Reworks,

Tascam Porta One MinistudioMicromoog Chapter 3 25:29 Ed Herbers–Sublimation 31:05

Eds Ampwall Gil Trythall–Echospace 36:42 Chapter 4 48:39 Francis Morning–Stay 53:05 Digitakt Digitone OP-1 Sony TCM 200 Electro harmonix 2880 Shallow Water Generation Loss Avalanche Run Marantz PMD 430

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

How do siblings work with time lords / Gallifreyans? I know the doctor has an older brother, but how much older? What’s a normal age gap, or the equivalent. Like is four years apart a gallifreyan forty years? And can siblings end up in different chapters at academy?

Also, is there a longer list of gallifreyan roots and / or a dictionary? Trying to futz with names a bit more, I’m trying to make a name that starts with a d with an l and n somewhere, and one that starts with an H and has a lee sound somewhere in there. (It’s a surprise for my sister)

Also also, your work is absolutely amazing. This entire blog is absolutely incredible, it’s totally fantastic. Thank you for everything

How siblings work in Gallifrey is an extremely complicated question, you won't be surprised to hear.

First, if you don't know what Looms are, look here, then come back:

How do siblings work with Gallifreyans?

Each House has its own Loom, and each House is allotted a certain amount of cousins, and legally cannot exceed that quota. Therefore, new cousins can only be loomed when one member of the House has their final death.

Now, Looms have a standard genetic template that aligns with the House's and affiliated Chapter's values and abilities, and it creates random people based on that template. However, you can also feed in the genetics of one or more 'parents' to create a loomling, which also absorbs that standard genetic Loom template alongside the parents. Two loomlings who share genetics from the same person can be considered siblings.

In the case of the Doctor and Brax, it wholly depends on which account of the Doctor's birth you subscribe to, but in the most detailed and least conflicting version, the Doctor and Brax are half-brothers. They have the same father (Ulysses), while the Doctor has a mother (Penelope), and Brax may not even have a proper mother.

📺|🧑‍⚕🧐 Who are the Doctor’s parents?

What is Brax and the Doctor's age difference?

Braxatiel got going around 700-1000 ish years before the Doctor, which in human ageing years is around 9-13 years or so (in linear time, anyway, and disregarding the 18 maturation years). See:

📺|🧬👵Converting Gallifreyan Age to Human Years

What's a normal age gap between Gallifreyan siblings?

Because of the way the Looms work in 'allotted' cousins, there's no such thing as a 'normal' age gap; it's simply about waiting for one of your cousins to die. If they're womb-born, this is more flexible, and the gestation period could be something like a year, so like a year between children is the quickest you could physically do it. See:

💬|🍼👶How do natural Gallifreyan pregnancies work?

💬|🍼👶What would a Human/Gallifreyan pregnancy look like?

Can siblings end up in different chapter academies?

As mentioned above, Looms are pretty standardised for traits, and if a House is affiliated with a certain Chapter, the Loom will produce children with the natural traits of that Chapter. But are a few reasons they could end up in different academies:

Errors in the weft cause a huge divergence of traits;

They're loomed in a House that's affiliated to a different chapter to their sibling;

Their House doesn't have an affiliation (and their Loom is not standardised);

Being womb-born obviously HUGELY changes potential inherent traits, and is an entirely different essay.

For more on Chapter traits, see:

🤔|🏡🧩How do Gallifreyan Houses influence abilities and traits?

❓Which Gallifreyan academy would admit you? (Quiz)

More on language ...

Conlang: The list provided on this post was exhaustive (as of 10/24, may change). However, something to note is that 'i' is pronounced 'ee', and it's completely legitimate to use only the first two letters for any root particle. Here are a few randomers for some inspiration:

Duliakin [doo-leah-keen] (Interact, Natural, Affect)

Dosnelga [dos-nel-ga] (Regeneration, Progress, Stability)

Dukonel [doo-ko-nel] (Interact, Live, Progress)

Dosnilo [dos-nee-low] (Regeneration, Affect, Light

Duliani [doo-leah-nee] (Interact, Natural, Affect)

Holiasha [ho-leah-sha] (Move, Natural, Emotion)

Holigra [ho-leeg-rah] (Move, Learn, Strength)

Hokiosu [ho-keyo-soo] (Move, Affect, Write)

Hoklina [ho-klee-na] (Move, Element, Succeed)

Holiaga [ho-leah-ga] (Move, Natural, Stability)

The updated and revamped dictionary and grammar guide aren't ready for the real world yet. For anyone particularly interested in the conlang and who doesn't mind a bit of a scatty work in progress, you're very welcome to the links to have a nosey, but please message privately for them.

----

And that's it! Phew!

Heartfelt thank you for the additional. I put a crazy amount of time and effort into this project alongside my normal day job, so it's nice to have a few kind words that make me go all wibbly inside.

Also, it opens up a space to say that if anyone out there fancies keeping me conscious, there's a Ko-Fi page for that so I can get some caffeine.

[https://ko-fi.com/gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[l1tw1ck]

Thunder

Bottom!FTM Cloud Strife x Top!Male Reader

⛈️ Word Count: 1,799 ⛈️

While out on a mission, you and Cloud get caught in a sudden thunderstorm, forcing you to find shelter for the night until it stops. But after a couple days, there aren't any signs of it letting up

AFAB Language Used | I had writer's block and got bored so i decided to finally continue playing final fantasy. I stopped like 30 minutes in to write this fic at 12AM. i put down the game (temporarily! i love it) after the section 8 stuff so i'm sorry for any inaccuracies, just needed to take advantage of this burst of motivation

CW: Rape/Non-Con, Somnophilia, Power Imbalance, Frottage, Teasing, Creampie

You peek outside the window, or what was left of it, of the broken down building you're in then turn to Cloud. “Looks like we’ll have to stay the night.” Lightning strikes to reinforce your words. “Think you can handle it, pretty boy?”

“Stop treating me like a rookie.” Cloud sighs. “And stop calling me pretty boy.”

“It's hard when you look like an adorable little kitten.” You smile.

He rolls his eyes and looks around for burnable items.

“It's like watching a lion cub hunt and gather.”

“I can't wait for this night to be over.” He groans. “How about you do something useful, captain?”

“Like what, kitty?”

Cloud grips the damp piece of wood in his hand in annoyance. “Like maybe finding things to keep the water out of here.” He tosses the wood aside.

“Sure.” You stretch.

The two of you worked together to make the old building livable for the night and went to sleep thinking it’d be over by morning.

Cloud wakes up to the loud sound of thunder and sighs. He sees you leaning against the wall. “It's still raining.”

“It sure is.” You chuckle. “We might be here for a while, kitty. Unless you want to run out and somehow dodge all that lightning?”

The two of you are way too far from the base to even consider doing that. The job pays well but not enough for Cloud to not be annoyed with this sudden detour. “I better get a bonus for this.”

“Of course. You could get paid even more if you did me a little favor.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“About 60,000 gil plus your bonus pay.”

“What is it?” He asks, attentive.

You smirk. “Since we're gonna be stuck here for who knows how long, I think it’d be nice to do something as a…pastime of sorts.”

“Stop beating around the bush.”

You motion for him to come over. He rolls his eyes and gets up. “I know you're talented in so many ways,” You grab his wrist and pull him close to you. “And I wanna see if you're talented in this way too.”

He pushes you and steps back, his cheeks red. “Don't even think about it.”

“It was worth a shot.” You laugh.

He shakes his head and decides to explore the building more, far from you.

The sun set and the sky continued to pour. Then days passed. You rationed food and managed to find other edible things to keep yourselves alive but the situation isn't all that great for you. You're still functioning, but just by a small margin.

The two of you were able to collect rainwater to drink and help yourselves clean up. Cloud insisted on doing it upstairs so you wouldn't watch him. You promised you wouldn't but you were lying.

As time went on, it was getting harder and harder to keep it in your pants. Your mental state started to get a little wonky thanks to your body not getting all the nutrients it needs. You couldn't stop thinking about how much you wanted him, especially since it was better than thinking about food. It got to a point where you couldn't even fall asleep.

You look at Cloud’s sleeping face, studying the slight movements in his facial muscles as he dreams. The soft glow of your lamp allows you to properly see him despite the darkness. His chest slowly rises and falls. You know if you made an attempt, he’d wake up, any good soldier would. But it's getting hard to control yourself. Being in such close proximity with him is driving you mad. You hesitantly, and very softly, touch his shoulder. He doesn't react. You poke his cheek. Nothing. You pause.

You trace your finger down his chest and to his pants. You carefully unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He doesn't seem to notice you pulling them down. You take in a small breath. You're so nervous it feels like there's a hole in your chest. You remove his boxers at an agonizingly slow pace. You gulp as you start to see his pussy. Light blond tufts of hair beautifully surround his soft, pudgy cunt and his t-dick. You look at him. He's sleeping peacefully. He must be more tired than usual tonight.

You gently pull his underwear down his ankles and place it on the end of the blanket he’s laying on. You carefully spread his legs and slot yourself in between them. As you begin to free your aching hard dick, you start to feel a little bad. You tell yourself to give him a huge bonus after this. You gently rub your cock along his pussy, knowing you can definitely get off just by doing this. You don't want it to hurt, at least not too much, so you decide not to penetrate him since your luck would probably run out if you tried to prep him properly.

You bite down on your lip. The view is making you feel dizzy. Your ears drown out the sounds of the thunder storm and focus entirely on Cloud. On his soft, gentle breaths and the squelching sound of his wet pussy, aroused by your cock pressing itself against it. Your heart starts to pound louder, ruining your focus on Cloud.

You let out a breathy gasp as you begin to feel your climax approaching. Your eyes flicker over to his face, watching to make sure he's still asleep. You don't know how you’ve gotten this far but you're no longer so sure that you’ll be able to stop here. Your movements stutter as your cum splatters on his body.

“Cloud..” You whisper. His lack of reaction emboldens you to keep going. You move back and slide your middle finger inside his cunt. Squelch. It sucks it in with ease, and same with your ring finger. You slowly open him up while using your free hand to jerk yourself off. He twitches. You pause and look at him before continuing.

You eventually decide to stop and finally get to the good part. You gently lift Cloud’s legs and position the tip of your cock in front of his entrance. You take your time easing into him while constantly checking if he's awake.

Once you're finally fully inside, you take a couple minutes to take everything in. You're in serious disbelief but way too horny to be concerned about it. You know that, at this point, if he wakes up, you’ll be able to overpower him.

You slowly thrust into him, happily indulging in the wonders of Cloud Strife’s pussy. You gently caress his t-dick, smiling when you start to hear him whimper. “You feel so good, Cloud– ‘s like you were made for me, to tempt me..” You murmur, gradually picking up the pace. “I didn't think it’d be so easy…”

“Maybe you're not even asleep. No properly trained soldier would sleep through something like this…I wonder if you're enjoying this. Getting off on me assaulting you in your sleep like a slut.” You notice his cheeks starting to turn red. A chill runs down your spine as you start to get a feeling your assumption is correct. “You like this, Cloud? Letting yourself get taken advantage of? Does it feel good getting treated like a cocksleeve?”

He whimpers, his cunt squeezing you.

“I know you're awake. Answer me.”

His eyes flutter open, his face flushed and deliciously seductive. “It– it feels good-!” He moans.

“Good boy.” You grin. You never would've thought Cloud would be into something like this. You roughly pound into him. He cries out in pleasure, feeling his orgasm approaching. “‘M gonna come inside and you're gonna take it like the good kitty you are.”

“Ye- yes–!” He shuts his eyes, squirting on your dick. His mouth hangs open as the aftershocks hit him. He smiles dreamily as he feels your cum flow inside of him.

You stop and catch your breath. “Did you reject me hoping this would happen?”

Cloud nods softly. “I didn't think it would…but I wanted it to.”

…..........

He pushes you and steps back. “Don't even think about it.”

“It was worth a shot.”

He shakes his head and decides to explore the building more, far from you.

Cloud climbed the semi-intact stairs and explored the second floor of the building. There wasn't anything noteworthy inside but it did give him much needed privacy. No room to lay down but he didn't need to anyway.

He walked behind a wall to hide himself in case you decided to follow him, and unbuckled his pants. He stuck his hand down them and gently caressed his t-dick. He always knew you were attracted to him, it wasn't like you were hiding it, and he pretended that he hated it. He loves your pet names and the lustful way you look at his body. Part of him hoped that one day, you’d just force yourself on him and claim him like a prize. He didn't think it'd ever happen but he never got tired of fantasizing about it. He hoped he'd have some sort of opportunity for you to finally make your move.

He'd imagine you cornering him in the locker room showers and covering his mouth to make sure no one finds out.

Cloud sneakily rubs his sensitive nipples against the cold wall tiles as you enter him. “Shh, this is what you get for being such a tease.” You spank him, your cock forcefully entering his pussy. Cloud shivers at the sounds of your heavy breathing. He can tell how aroused you are and how much you love his body. He rolls his eyes back as you stretch him wide open, his own heavy breaths making him feel lightheaded.

Or he’d imagine you giving him an ultimatum and forcing him to submit to you in exchange for keeping his job.

Cloud fakes a look of disgust as he stares at your rock hard cock. He looks up at you then back at your length, hesitating before enveloping it in his mouth. “There you go, Cloud, finally doing what I hired you for.” You praise him. He shudders at the thought, his pussy throbbing with need. “This is what you should be doing, not out on the battlefield but here, pleasing me.”

He looks up at you, trying to look angry. You smirk and push his head down, forcing him to shift his focus back.

His latest fantasy was about being trapped together. He hoped that something would happen to keep the two of you together for a long time. And he’d tease you even more to frustrate you. Then you’d finally do it.

He didn't think that exact scenario would actually play out.

[itsss4t4n]

hi!! could i get headcanons of harry hook x daughter of alice from alice in wonderland? :)

a/n: Okay so i made two versions of this. I started writing more of like an actual story wich is pretty long and then realized that you probably asked for more short relationship headcannons. So this one is the shorter headcannons. I hope you enjoy :))

Trigger warnings: very short mention of bad family dynamics, not proofread, she/her pronouns if used

So here is the longer story version

Harry hook x Daughter of alice in wonderland - headcanons

-Harry would constantly ask you about wonderland and try to compare it to neverland. Its not really similar but he trys anyways.

-knowing about and visiting wonderland quite often made you kind of an 'odd' person but harry loves it. Honestly that man oves anything that is different and weird. He would fit right in with his dramatic and theatrical nature.

-You would mock his accent constantly but you both know that you love it. Especially mixed with his raspy morning voice. Heaven on earth.

-Uma and gil also probably love you. How could they not when harry adores you like does.

-speaking of: he adores you so much. Words of affirmation and physical touch are his love languages. He is always complimenting you and huging you, holding your hands or just standing/ sitting as close to you as he can. 

-He knows how you love it when he tilts up ypur chin with the tip of his hook, and he fully uses it to his advantage.

-steaing his hook to annoy him or as 'blackmail'

-he would be so nervous to meet your family but they pretty much love him immediately.

-he finally has a family that cares about him and that he can feel safe in (other than his friends obv.) because lord knows his own family was awful. Except maybe harriet. Speaking of she is the only part of his family you actually got to meet. She loves you but would still give you the older sibling talk 'if you hurt him i will kill you', etc. etc.. But Harriet is incedibly happy that harry has found someone that loves him as much as you do.

-Honestly you would just be such a cute couple. 

-but also one that can cause trouble. A lot. You are not against some rulebreaking if its fun. you never were. And with harry its always fun.

-Now... on a sidenote: THAT MAN IS AN AWESOME KISSER! LIKE FR. 

-anyways.. you guys are perfect together. Accepting each other with all your flaws. 

-true love <3

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

Alles auf Hoffnung • Ein Teil von mir • Freiheit in mir • Held in deinem Film • Vom Ende der Traurigkeit • Alles • Herz • Alles was du sagst • Danke • Das längste Lied • Nach dir der Regen • Pierrot

Spotify ♪ YouTube

[self-destructinganimal]

"Kind as Summer" doesn't mean you won't get burned:

Went ahead and made this at the urging of @valar-did-me-wrong and @dandexllions - a thread containing the most sassy, most disrespectful, & most audacious moments from Elrond in S1 and s2 of Rings of Power.

In no particular order:

No. 1, Elrond calls the High King a liar to his face: "I wonder High King, if it is you who has been lying to me."

No 2, Elrond & Galadriel: "Yes, what?" no explanation needed

No 3, Elrond vs Dwarven Advisors 1x7 After proposing a trade of five centuries worth of timber and grain for the use of mithril, two dwarves behind him whisper: "quite a promise if they can keep it", and Elrond who has learned their language, interrupts to clap back, making them aware that he has heard:

No 4, Elrond lets Disa know he is aware she is lying: "You know Disa there is no secret worth concealing with deception...if Durin is mining quartz why would he leave without taking his chiseling axe, and why would you be preparing his favorite meal if he's gone to a chasm that takes two full days to descend to?"

No. 5, Best friend catches another burn: Pretty much this entire scene?

No. 6, Throws Gil-galad's words back at him: (more High King disrespect, gasp!)

No. 7, Negotiation with Adar in the tent "You never seen me wield either" --and bonus:

No. 8, Sarcasm to the elf messengers who hunt him down:

No. 9, Straight up disobedience to the High King:

No. 10, Bonus sassy faces:

Let me know if I missed any!!!

[notaplaceofhonour]

Are you really putting me on blast for a public comment to begin with?

Are you claiming that Judaism isn’t a religion? It most certainly is even if ethnically based historically. I know it’s matrilineal, but anyone can convert even if they’re not evangelical. Though there are ethnic differences even between Jews that are Ashkenazi, Sephardic, Mizrahi or Ethiopian.

Semitic people or Semites is a term for an ethnic, cultural or racial group associated with people of the Middle East, including Arabs, Jews, Akkadians, and Phoenicians. Gaza wasn’t even part of Judea, Ancient Israel or Samaria. It was the land of the Philistines.

If you believe in the text of the Torah, which coincides with the text in the Koran, then Arabs and Jews are related by Abraham. His sons just had different Mothers.

You have to understand that people’s words are being twisted right now. There are a lot of people that oppose the war, but do not oppose Jewish people. Bernie Sanders, the best candidate for president the US has had in decades in my opinion, opposes the war and that doesn’t mean he supports Hamas.

My point is not really about your opinion specifically. It’s about the right wing that is painting people with a broad brush as a way to deprive legal residents of due process. It’s a slippery slope that will be applied to anyone and he’s ignoring the Supreme Court. We’re entering really dark times. The Trump administration is using Antisemitism as an excuse to deport students and defund higher education. They’re using Jews as a scapegoat and the ADL is really not doing anything about it.

Yeah, retro, you really publicly post a racist screed as laughably & confidently shitty as that on one of my posts about antisemitism, and you really might get a response that publicly refutes it with all the respect it deserves.

“Semitic” Peoples & Antisemitism

Literally nobody that isn’t possessed by the ghost of an SS officer is using “Semitic” like that. It appears vestigially in “antisemitism” and is used in Linguistics to refer to Semitic Languages (there are Semitic-speakers; there are not Semitic peoples)—that’s it.

You pull up in a Jew’s comment section, insisting on this Nazi-ass 19-20th Century Scientific Racist racial classification of “Semites”, all in order to play mental gymnastic word games to claim the real victims of [word that means anti-Jewish bigotry] are a group of non-Jews at the hands of Jews… and you just might be put on blast for it.

And this isn’t even new; the way you’re using it was already starting to fall out of favor among anyone who wasn’t a proud self-described antisemite even before the Nazis came to power. It’s been understood as racist BS for more than century. Even Gil Anidjar, a pro-BDS professor at Columbia who shares a lot of your other views, understands this terminology is racist pseudoscience, writing in his book about the rise and fall of the word’s usage that “the opposing term was Aryan”.

That’s the racial framework you’re using. The “Aryan” one.

And who did these self-identified Antisemites target with their antisemitism? Did Wilhelm Marr’s Antisimeten-Liga that popularized the term allege an Arab conspiracy or a Jewish one? Did Hitler’s antisemitism lead him to kill 6 Million Arabs, or 6 Million Jews? Are there countless Arab organizations dedicated to fighting Antisemitism as such, or has that been left to Jews?

Arabs have their own word for bigotry against them. Stop trying to appropriate ours, especially when the people you’re claiming are the perpetrators are Jews. It’s dishonest, it’s cruel, it’s just gross.

Token “Good Jews”

Same with you goy-splaining about how Jews aren’t a monolith to act like all of what you said isn’t incredibly antisemitic. We know we’re not a monolith (possibly even more so than most other groups); our entire culture is built around structures of debate. But your inciting gish-gallop of talking points about “apartheid”, “open air prisons”, and terrorists being “freedom fighters” is one that would rightly make all but the most fringe token Jews, totally disconnected from Jewish community, balk.

In another message you sent, which I’m not going to respond to, you mention JVP, and OH MY G-D is it clear that this is where you’re getting your information about Jews. They’re an EXTREMELY fucking fringe group that harass and incite violence against other Jews, and they’re rightly understood by most Jews as a hate group akin to Autism Speaks. Like I said, they’re EXTREMELY fringe in the Jewish community. They have like 20,000-30,000 members, most of whom aren’t even Jewish, and all of their positions are miles outside of the already expansive & diverse tradition of discourse within Judaism.

Between them and Bernie Sanders, you can tokenize the “Good Jews” (you assume) agree with you all you want, that doesn’t make the rest of what you’re saying anything but grotesquely antisemitic.

And it does stand out that the “Good Jew” you name here is one whose speech on Passover—the Let My People Go holy day—completely omitted any mention of the hostages to position Palestinians as the sole victims of the conflict. It so clear that what it takes to qualify as a “Good Jew” is not just caring about groups in addition to Jews, but abandoning our own entirely. We have to assimilate and cut away pieces of our identity and so many in our community to fit into your framework.

Both sides are using Jews as a political football, and you’re just as much an example of this as Republicans. Just as Trump can take his false concern about Jews and shove it up his ass, so can you.

Am Yisrael

The Jewish people predates the concept of religion as a separate idea. “Faith” has very little to do with Jewish observance. There are obviously elements of Judaism that are religious, but that distinct categorization is external and does not describe Jewish collective identity.

Above I said “Jews have to assimilate and cut away pieces of our identity to fit into your framework”. That’s what Judaism-as-a-faith is. I put the comment about that in the tags rather than the body of the post because it’s a much less well-known by non-Jews, but that isn’t how the Jewish people have traditionally understood ourselves.

As Dara Horn puts it:

“Jews aren't a religion. There's millions of Jews who are secular Jews. Have you ever met a secular Mormon? There's an answer to who Jews are, and it's quite simple. We don't have to sit here and be like, ‘oh, are Jews a race or religion or nationality?’

Jews are a type of social group that was common in the ancient Near East, very uncommon in the West today; it's a joinable tribal group with a shared history, homeland and culture.

What I just said is a paragraph in English and in Hebrew it's one word that's two letters long: Am.”

This is the “Am” in “Am Yisrael” (the People/Nation of Israel), the endonym of the Jewish people.

It’s just… very clear from everything you’ve said that you haven’t spent any meaningful time around Jews or anyone who is even reasonably knowledgeable about us on anything past a surface level, and that doesn’t seem likely to change, because you keep spouting so many confidentiality wrong opinions about what we are/should be, while using fucking Nazi terminology to reverse the meaning of antisemitism on us, and not even taking a second to listen to us about us. You think you know who we are better than us. You don’t.

And this backpedaling to “oh I wasn’t talking about you” is bullshit. If you weren’t responding to the post why comment on it in the first place? Make your own damn post instead of making it my fucking problem. You saw a post talking about Zionism & decided to vomit up more of exactly the lies about Zionism I was refuting, and you just continue to double down on it.

I’m not responding to your other message. I don’t send anons. I’m not interested in wasting my time going back and forth debating your racist stochastic garbage full of the same 10 flimsy talking points. If you want to do better, start by shutting up and listening instead of telling us who we are or should be.

[mirkwdmstrss]

by the river’s edge

summary: gil-galad feared the worst in not knowing whether you lived or died in the siege at eregion. upon being reunited, you take him to a clandestine hideaway to help cleanse his body and mind of the horrors he witnessed on the battlefield. with a full heart and clear mind, he asks you something you did not expect

word count: 4.4k

pairing: gil galad x reader

genre: hurt comfort, fluff

tags: implied sex, mild blood, nudity

Branches whipped across his face as he blindly pushed through the dense foliage, never minding the sharpened thorns or abrasive barks stinging at his exposed flesh. Such was the nature of this valley, to protect those that sought refuge within its walls. Another might have torn their sword from its sheath and slashed at the maze of vines and tangles of tree limbs, but Gil Galad was not so far yet lost to his fears and anxieties to cause undue harm to the natural world.

You are alive. You are well.

These are the words he’d kept repeating to himself after nearly having lost Galadriel hours earlier. To have lost her would’ve been a blow to him unlike any other. To have lost her while also not yet knowing if you lived or died caused immeasurable fear to shadow his heart; and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive the loss of either of you if that was what the Valar had deemed to happen on this day.

Hope. He held to hope. If they had all survived what they had thus far, surely you, and the rest of those trapped in the Siege at Eregion had been able to escape. Galadriel had been unable to speak when he and Elrond had worked tirelessly to stabilize her injuries. He knew in his heart though that she would’ve done her best to help as many as possible escape through the secret tunnels in her pursuit of Sauron, a Lady of Light in the darkest of times. Though he’d intended to stay by the commander’s side, Arondir and Elrond had promised her safe delivery to the valley in which the survivors had been rumored to flee to and encouraged him to go on ahead without them to find you.

And as he drew upon an opening in the thicket all around him, his heart swelled to hear the language of his people. As he broke through trees, their tongues fell silent; stunned to find their high king in such a disheveled state. His eyes rapidly scanned the gathering crowd, though it was not very big to begin with. Had so few made it out? Surely this couldn’t be everyone.

“Where are they?” he asked no one in particular, eyes unable to focus on any one person for too long.

“Who, High King?”

Gil Galad turned at the sound of his title and was surprised to find Vorohil. He was sure he’d died in Eregion after being struck by the enemy's arrows; and though he cradled his left arm close to his chest, he seemed otherwise unharmed save a few cuts and bruises on his face.

He spoke your name and his heart sang upon Vorohil’s face instantly brightening. With his right hand, he pointed toward an outcropping of rocks near a small waterfall. “Just past those boulders, my lord. We’ve established a rudimentary infirmary. They’ve been tending to the wounded night and day. I probably wouldn’t be here to tell you of it had it not been for them.”

Gil Galad parted from him, a brief word of thanks rolling off his tongue as he swept down the hill, never minding the praise and thanks his people extended towards him as he rushed past. This battle was not won by him alone, by the Valar, this battle hadn’t been won at all; but they survived due to the leadership of many, and he would address his people formally once all were present.

For now, all that mattered was you.

As he rounded the mass of boulders, the expanse of land opened up into a dell shadowed by enormous trees and the gentle rush of a number of small brooks flowed freely over smooth stone.

At least a dozen elves, soldiers and civilians alike, were laid out on makeshift beds of grass in various states of health and wellness. Some had suffered broken bones, some penetrating stab wounds. A couple of elf maidens he recognized from Eregion busied themselves over an elf that had suffered an arrow to the shoulder who cried out as they withdrew the shaft and immediately packed the wound with bandages that looked like they’d been made from someone’s cloak. He greeted them and they startled.

“High king,” they greeted in turn with a bow of their heads.

“Please,” he said in dismissal, waving them back towards the injured. “I don’t mean to interrupt. Tell me, where is—”

His voice faltered and a choked sob escaped his lips as you appeared from around a bend in the rock formation.

Gil Galad was upon you in an instant, a breath of air whooshing from your lungs as two strong arms wrapped around your middle, forcing you to drop the basket you’d been holding. Clean linens spilled about your feet as the High held you close against his mud and blood stained chest plate, his large hand cradling your neck and fingers tangling into your hair.

“Thank the Valar you’re alive,” he breathed into your ear.

“Me?” you questioned, pulling back to look into his deep brown eyes as you cupped his cheek in your hand. “From what I heard, you llead a charge with less than two dozen elves at your backing. You’re lucky you made it out with only a scratch.” You ran your thumb along his jaw where a rather nasty cut split the skin of his cheek. “Come, let me tend to you somewhere more private, my lord.”

Gil Galad inclined his head as though he wanted to say more, but then realized all eyes of those that were conscious were currently on the two of you; and though he cared not if they saw him show affection towards you, it was probably the last thing they expected to see at this current moment in time. With a nod of his head, he relented and allowed you to curl your fingers around his and tug him along down a path that curved on between the rocks.

The sun shone overhead, breaking through the boughs of the trees dappling the path in swirls of golden light. Birds chirped in their branches and the sound was so sweet, it nearly puzzled Gil Galad for he’d not heard the birds sing in weeks and wasn’t sure he’d ever hear them again for the carnage of what had transpired in Eregion.

As you wandered down the path, eventually, he could no longer even hear the voices of those back at the stream’s edge.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked, craning to look around your frame.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, and he smiled upon finding both adoration and amusement shining back at him in your eyes; a welcome contrast to the horror and fear he’d seen reflected back at him in the eyes of his people as they’d fallen around him in battle.

“Somewhere I can get you cleaned up, would that please the High King?” You asked coyly, batting your lashes at him.

A smile hooked the corners of his lips as your playful tongue expelled the images of war from his mind. Without thinking further of it, he tugged on your hand and with one strong pull of his arm, twirled you around the path so you were flush with his body and had to arch your back in order to gaze up at him, the press of his hand against the small of your waist making you feel more safe and secure than you had in weeks. A moment of silence stretched between you, but only a moment, before you both launched yourselves at one another.

You threw your arms around his neck as he hoisted you up into the air to press his lips against yours. He tasted like blood and sweat, but you didn’t care because he was there and he was alive. He moaned into your mouth as he squeezed you tightly and you laughed against his lips, feeling joy for the first time since you couldn’t even remember.

Pressing your hands against his shoulders in a gentle signal to let you down, you kissed the corner of his mouth. “There will be plenty of time for that later, let’s get you cleaned up. In the coming days, we’ll have little time together with all the responsibility that will fall to you. You’ll need to look a little bit more presentable for your people.”

Gil Galad arched a brow in response as he placed your feet back on the ground. “Are you saying I don’t look presentable right now?”

You smirked in response, giving him a once over. “I suppose you could stay dressed in that.” A wicked glint entered your gaze. “Or you could allow me to help bathe and dress you in a fresh set of clothes. Your armor has seen better days, after all.”

Gil Galad nodded his head slowly, an eagerness in his eyes you’d not seen in ages. “It has, hasn’t it?”

You murmured your assent and led him off path through a break in the dense foliage where a clear blue waterfall gushed into a wide pebbled pool beneath. Wide rocks poked out of the water, bathed in sunlight. Oaks and other trees grew tall, curving toward the sky in beautiful arches. The surrounding mountain of the valley and thick brush encircling the space kept it hidden from those just following the path, so there would be plenty of privacy here.

“How did you find this place?” Gil Galad asked as his eyes looked about in wonder. Vines of wisteria crawled along the canopy, filling the space with a sweet and delicate scent.

“I was searching for herbs to use in poultices and salves for the injured.” You gestured towards the sandy bank where a number of small baskets were packed full with various herbs and plants. Beside that was a larger basket you’d used to wash linens, a number of which were stretched out to dry on the sun drenched rocks.

A knowing look entered the depths of his brown eyes. “Very far to wander on one’s own, don’t you think?”

You squeezed his hand as you continued to lead him down towards the falls, “We can always go back.”

“No, no,” he replied. “This will do just fine.”

“Good,” you said softly, backing up towards the water’s edge, your feet sinking just so into the smooth sand surrounding the pool. With a delicate hand, and without breaking eye contact with him, you curled your palm around his wrist, undoing the straps of one gauntlet before following suit and removing the other. You tossed them onto the sand and followed the length of his torso, seeking out and undoing the latches of the chest plate along his sides and those holding it in place over his shoulders. Gil Galad breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled it over his head and let it fall away, not minding how it hit the sand with a firm thunk. Finally, your fingers found and made quick work of the buckles holding his pauldrons in place.

Fire danced in the depths of his deep brown eyes as you took a measured step towards him and reached for the belt at his waist, holding his long sword tight to his hip. His fingers folded over yours, threading through them to undo the buckle. He gripped his sword as the belt from around his waist and dug his weapon into the earth with one powerful thrust of his arm. You swallowed thickly and felt your heart hammer a steady beat against your ribcage as you dared to gather the fabric of his tunic into your hands.

“Go on, then,” he said, voice low. Your fingers skimmed the trail of dark hair beneath his navel as you pushed the fabric of his shirt up and over his shoulders, allowing him to tug the remainder over his head and cast it aside in a ripple of golden fabric. He shook out his hair and it fell across his broad shoulders in deep brown waves.

When he took a step closer to you, closing what little distance remained between the two of you, every muscle in your belly clenched with heat. “Are you just going to watch me bathe?” he asked softly. “Or shall you join me?”

“Whatever my king prefers,” you answered with a small bow of your head. Your breath hitched in your throat when his fingers gripped your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to look at his. “What have I told you about calling me by my name?”

A blush coated your cheeks as a shy smile played about your lips. “Years now, we’ve spent together, and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way your name rolls off the tongue.”

Gil Galad dropped his fingers from your chin to fall upon the bare skin of your shoulder. As he curled his fingers around the back of your neck to make quick work of the knot holding your simple halter shift dress in place, his lips brushed the shell of your pointed ear. “Perhaps, we can see how it rolls off the tongue whilst mine lavishes the body it belongs to.”

“Bite your tongue,” you scolded playfully.

“If you ask nicely,” he purred, tugging the knot free and with it, your dress fell in a pile of fabric around your ankles.

Your nipples immediately peaked in response to the gentle breeze of the warm summer day; the sun on your back instantly warming you through to your core. As you toed out of your sandals, you stepped forward to reach for the ties on his trousers. His hands curved over your hips and you gasped as he grabbed your backside firmly in his palms causing you to fumble the laces. When you finally managed to pull them loose, you watched as he kicked out of his boots to shimmy them off, casting them aside and leaving him completely nude before you save for his ring, Vilya, whose ruby glittered in the sun.

You found yourself unable to look away from him, bared like this to you in the open air; and you to him. There was as much beauty in it as there was vulnerability and you craved him now more than ever.

Before you could place a hand on him, he lunged towards you. A squeal escaped your lips as he tackled you into the pool; arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he turned his body to take the brunt of the impact with the water’s surface. The water was cold, yet refreshing, and you both spluttered and laughed as you kicked yourselves upright. You reached out a hand to brush a lock of hair out of his face and rubbed your finger along the dried blood on his cheek.

“I’m so glad you made it back safely,” you murmured as your laughter fell away.

Gil Galad turned his head to place a gentle kiss upon your thumb which lingered there. “When I have something so important to come back to, I do everything in my power to make it so.”

“This is but a lull in the storm,” you ventured, fear lacing your words.

His eyes flashed with concern, irises flickering as he searched for solace in yours. “Do not trouble yourself with such dark thoughts, not when I have found strength in your gentle arms.” He folded himself around you then, fingers splayed against your back as he buried his nose into your hair.

You closed your eyes, reveling in the touch of his strong and gentle caress. “I want to show you something,” you whispered in his ear, causing him to pull back and regard you with bemused curiosity.

Releasing his hand, you took slow, measured steps back. Fortunately, you’d had plenty of time to explore this place in the days since you’d taken refuge in the valley. The roar of the falls grew louder as you backed up closer and closer to it. A devious grin pulled at your lips as you took a breath and held it before stepping back through the curtain of water into the secret cavern behind it.

You waded back and swam in a slow circle, taking in the smooth rounded out walls that tapered up high towards an opening in the ceiling overhead. The sun cut across the top, reflecting off the walls in shimmering silver and golden light that danced along the cavern walls.

Gil Galad appeared then, swiping a hand over his face to smooth his hair back. His lips parted as awe struck him, head tilting back to admire the clandestine space.

“Ulmo must be fond of you to have revealed such a place,” he breathed, completely wonderstruck as he turned to admire the expanse of smooth flat stones that made up the perimeter of the space, dipping and forming alcoves where one could sit or out of the water. He could picture you now, stretched out across one while the water lapped at your flesh and he lapped at your—

“The vines that grow down through the opening in the cavern are soapwort.”

“Soapwort,” Gil Galad repeated, mind returning to a more appropriate topic.

You nodded, swimming over to one of the vines curling down the wall and plucking a flower from it. You rolled the petals between your hands until a gentle lather foamed between your palms. You plucked a handful and made your way over to a cluster of smooth rocks. After taking a seat on one that resided just beneath the water's surface, you waved Gil Galad over to join you.

You set the flowers on a dry portion of rock sticking out of the water and placed your hands on his chest when he drew near, pressing down in a quiet order to sit. When he did, you smoothed his hair back over his shoulders. After breaking down the herbs in hand, you massaged the lather into his hair, kneading his scalp with your fingers as you did so.

The murmurs of satisfaction that left the High King’s lips brought a knowing smile to your own. So often he busied himself with the kingdom, as was his duty, that he never took true time for himself. If you could offer him but a moment’s respite from the horrors he’d seen befall your people, then that would be enough. After rinsing the sweat and dirt from his hair, you shifted your attention to clean the marks of battle from his flesh. Gil Galad winced as you worked the herb’s lather into the cut on his cheek, but you only smiled.

“I will not see the High King of Lindon felled by infection if you don’t let me clean this and keep squirming like that.”

“It’s not a pleasant feeling,” Gil Galad quipped, though his eyes betrayed his amusement.

You only smirked in response and continued to wash the memory of the siege from his flesh, gently guiding your fingers over every inch of his skin; not missing the way his cock twitched several times in response to your heated touch.

As you turned to pluck more soapwort from the vine for yourself, Gil Galad’s hulking silhouette shadowed yours as he reached an arm above your head to pick several blossoms just out of reach.

“Allow me,” he offered, voice rumbling: and as he sat down on one of the partly submerged rocks, he looped an arm around your waist to pull you down into his lap. “I doubt you’ve paused to pay any heed to your own needs.” He pressed a soft kiss to your temple and you closed your eyes, leaning your head back to rest against the crook of his neck as your spine laid flush with his torso. “Let the carer be cared for in turn.”

He tended to you then with as gentle a hand as you had shown him and when his hands swept across your chest and torso, you couldn’t fight the way you arched into the wide plane of his body.

“Do you like it when I touch you there?” he murmured in your ear.

You nodded as his hand curved around your belly, fingers creeping ever lower. “And what if I were to touch you elsewhere?”

“I think I’d like that very much,” you breathed, voice raspy.

Gil Galad hoisted you into his arms then eliciting a delighted shriek from you as you threw your arms around his neck to keep from falling back into the water.

“Then allow me to treat you like the royalty you’ll one day be at my side.”

•••

Gil Galad rolled off of you and onto his back beside you, both of your chests heaving with labored breaths after the love you’d just made on the shores of the falls left you fully spent and sated. You turned on your side to face him, dragging a finger along the fine layer of hair covering the expanse of his chest. He reached an arm across your back to pull the edge of the cloak you laid upon up and over your lower bodies to provide some protection from the sun beaming overhead, though he marveled at the way its light danced along your bare skin.

When the silk had settled over you, he stretched one arm behind his head to look upon you better and with the opposite, reached forward to stroke the skin of your cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Your skin is flushed,” he murmured, a tender smile playing on his pink lips.

A laugh tumbled from your throat as you regarded him keenly, “And who’s to blame for that, I wonder?”

“If worshiping your body is wrong,” Gil Galad mused as he leaned forward to nip at your chest, which was already littered with purple-blue marks from the way he’d suckled your skin. “Let me never be right. Place all blame on me and judge me guilty.”

His eyes glittered in the afternoon sun and you saw the promise of his words reflected back at you in them. You pressed a featherlight kiss to his lips and moaned into his open mouth as his arm tightened around your back, as if he could bring you closer together than you already were.

“Never doubt the love I have for you,” he breathed as he touched his forehead to yours. “In these dark times, it is the light that guides me through each peril; the star that will always lead me home to you.”

“How could I ever doubt that which you make so clear to me in every word you speak and every gentle touch you place upon my skin?”

“Then let me declare it to all who dwell in our kingdom,” he said resolutely, eyes brightening.

A huff of laughter tumbled from your lips at the sudden excitement gleaming in his eyes.

“Wed me.”

Your smile faltered as you searched his features for a sign that he was joking, but all you found was determination. “What?” was all you could manage to stammer out.

His smile widened as he propped himself up on one elbow, his dark hair falling in a curtain across his shoulder as he smoothed an arm down your bicep.

“Let us be wed,” he repeated. “In this place, in this valley. Let the first act in defiance of the spreading darkness be one of love. Marry me.”

Tears brimmed along your lashes as he withdrew the ring adorning his pinky finger and held it before you. Sunlight reflected off the thin gold band and the sapphire adorning it gleamed brightly in the afternoon rays.

“When the time came, I thought—” his voice caught in his throat. He pressed his lips together as he looked down at the ring, a deep sadness entering his gaze. “I thought I might have Lord Celebrimbor craft you a ring fit for a royal of our realm, but now…” A tear slipped from the corner of his eye and you watched as it slid down his cheek. He ran his finger along the smooth gold and held it tightly. You cupped his cheek in your hand, wiping the tear away with your thumb and he leaned into your palm, finding solace in the warmth of your touch. With a deep breath, he continued. “This was the last ring he’d made for me before crafting the Three and I know he’d be honored by my asking you to wear it for all our lives and with it, bind yourself to me and me to you.”

He gazed up at you then from beneath his lashes, eyes sad yet hopeful. “I come before you now, not as a King, but as a lover; as your partner, your equal in every way.” His brow rose as an almost shy smile curved the corners of his mouth. “Say yes and I’ll spend the rest of my immortal life loving you with all that I am.”

You bit down on your lip, eyes flickering between his and the ring he held before you.

“Yes,” you whispered, lips trembling as you smiled and threw your arms around him, knocking the wind from his lungs as he fell back against the sandy bank. You pressed your lips against his and murmured the word again and again. “In this lifetime and every henceforth.”

Gil Galad pushed himself upright into a sitting position, and you with him. You turned in his lap so that you were facing him and wrapped your legs around his waist. The High King took your left hand in his and you splayed your fingers so he could slip the ring onto your finger.. “It fits you better than it did me,” he mused with a soft smile on his lips.

You held your hand up to the light where you could both admire its beauty. “The Lord of Eregion truly was the greatest of Elven smiths. I should’ve liked to have told him that.”

“One day,” Gil Galad said as he took hold of your hand in his. “When our time to sail comes, he’ll be there to greet us on silver shores and we can rejoice in the sorrows and joys of our lives, including this moment; which I know will forever remain my singular and most treasured.”

And as the sun parted between the trees once more, the wind gently stirring their green and golden boughs; you could see forever staring back at you in the eyes of the High King alongside a firm hope for a brighter tomorrow at his side.

[earthlybeam]

Hello! can I please request elves not knowing our language well enough like innuendos or slang and getting the reader flustered by saying something double meaning ..😏😏😏 (like sleeping together spicy or not)

Apologies for the delay—I’ve been working on this in bits and pieces. I wasn’t sure which character you had in mind, so I went ahead and worked on my main three I write for. If you’d like me to focus on a different character, feel free to leave a comment or request it directly. Hope you enjoy!

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Thranduil, Elrond, Gil-galad Version below.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵 (two versions below)

(First one)

The air around you is cool, a refreshing contrast to the lingering heat of the day. You stand near the tranquil waters of the forest stream, looking out at the setting sun filtering through the trees. The serenity of Mirkwood feels almost overwhelming, the world slowed down to the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional bird call. You feel yourself relaxing—until a familiar presence at your back reminds you that this stillness is about to be broken. You hear the soft crunch of leaves beneath boots before Thranduil’s voice reaches you, smooth and unhurried. “You look worn, my guest,” he remarks, his tone soft yet authoritative, like he’s seen the fatigue in your posture from a distance. You turn to face him, the King of Mirkwood, his figure standing tall and imposing, yet there’s something unexpectedly gentle in the way he regards you. “I could make you feel so good with just a little pressure, you know,” he says, his voice low and oddly intimate, a slight, lingering pause in the air between his words. His fingers graze the bare skin of your shoulder, the touch so light it’s almost like a whisper of contact. But that small touch carries more weight than it should. You swallow, caught off guard by the sensation, a shiver running through you at the lightness of his caress. His fingers press just enough to leave a warmth lingering, a promise that extends far beyond the simplicity of his words.

“Trust me enough to let me,” he adds, and it’s almost a challenge, though not in the way you’d expect. There’s a quiet command in the suggestion, the kind of confidence that comes from a ruler who knows the power of his own allure. His words hang in the air, curling into your thoughts like a slow, intoxicating pull. You open your mouth to respond, but something in his gaze stops you. His eyes—always calculating, always observing—lock with yours, and suddenly, everything feels far more personal, far more intimate than it should be. Your heart beats faster, a fluttering in your chest that you don’t quite understand. It’s not just the offer of a bath, not really. It’s the way his fingers linger, almost imperceptibly, against your skin, as though waiting for you to make the next move, to decide what happens next. Your thoughts race, clouded by an undercurrent of something you don’t know how to define. Did he mean it the way you think he did?

Your cheeks flush, a crimson warmth spreading across your face. You try to compose yourself, to steady your breathing, but the heat of his touch refuses to fade. You find yourself unable to meet his gaze, unsure whether you should speak or remain silent. You didn’t expect this kind of attention, not from someone so regal, so commanding. And certainly not from someone who feels like an enigma wrapped in a thousand years of experience. Thranduil watches you closely, an unreadable expression passing over his features. He doesn’t comment on your flustered silence but offers you a small, almost knowing smile, his gaze never leaving yours. Without saying another word, he turns and begins walking toward the hidden pathway leading deeper into the trees.

“Come,” he says softly, his voice still smooth but with a certain undertone of reassurance, as if he is guiding you rather than commanding you. You hesitate for just a moment, unsure of whether to follow, but you find your feet moving behind him almost instinctively. There’s a curiosity gnawing at you, a mix of confusion and anticipation, as you trail after him through the thickening forest. The path grows quieter the further you venture, the sound of the forest dampened by the thick canopy above. You walk in silence, the tension from before lingering in the air, until you come to a secluded stone chamber, the entrance concealed by thick vines and foliage. Thranduil steps aside to allow you to pass, his gesture graceful, yet his eyes are still focused on you—unwavering, assessing.

The room before you is bathed in a soft glow, the flickering light from several candles casting long shadows against the stone walls. In the center of the room, a large pool of water waits, steam rising from its surface. The scent of lavender and something musky fills the air, calming and inviting, a sharp contrast to the electric tension that still crackles between you. It’s only then that you realize exactly what he meant by his earlier words. The bath. The pressure. It’s not just a physical offering—it’s something more intimate, more vulnerable. Your eyes widen in realization as you glance back at him. He’s still watching you, waiting for you to come to terms with the situation. The flush on your cheeks deepens as the realization sinks in.

Thranduil’s gaze softens for a moment, though his confidence never wavers. “I find that a long day’s journey is best followed by a moment of true relaxation.” He speaks with such ease, as if this was a perfectly normal offer, but you can’t shake the underlying tension between the two of you. You stand there for a moment, at the threshold of the bath chamber, a part of you wanting to turn and walk away, to ignore the way his presence fills the room and how you suddenly feel as if you’re being held in a delicate balance. But you don’t. You step forward, drawn by a force you can’t explain, still unsure of what exactly you’ve stepped into. Thranduil’s voice breaks through your thoughts, warm and deep as ever. “Don’t worry. I will make sure the waters are to your liking.” His hands, smooth and practiced, reach for the edge of the stone basin, and you feel his gaze on you like a tangible thing, though his tone remains gentle, almost reassuring. You realize in that moment that whatever you had imagined this encounter would be, it’s nothing like what you’ve expected. It’s far more intimate, more intimate than you were prepared for, but something tells you, as his eyes flicker to you once more, that this moment—whatever it is—might be just the beginning of something far deeper than you had anticipated.

(Second one)

Thranduil’s presence surrounds you, a palpable force that draws you closer with every step you take. His steps are measured and calm, but there’s a magnetic energy in the air that leaves you feeling disoriented, as if your very thoughts are caught in a haze. You follow him instinctively, your mind still tangled in the weight of his words, which seem to echo through the space in your mind, growing louder and heavier with each passing moment. As you walk, you can feel his gaze on you, unwavering, almost predatory in its intensity. The air between you two is thick with something unspoken, a quiet tension that sets your heart to racing. You can’t seem to escape it—the way he moves, the way he speaks, the way his words weave a spell around you, drawing you deeper into his influence. “I could show you how to be truly loyal,” he says again, his voice smooth, each syllable slipping over you like a velvet caress. But this time, the weight of his words hits you differently. The phrase itself, at its core, seems simple enough. Loyalty. You’ve heard the word before, perhaps from your own lips or from those of others. It’s meant to convey trust, duty, service. But in his voice, there’s something more—a hidden layer that twists the meaning, that turns it into something else entirely.

The way he says it, so slow, so deliberate, sends a shiver down your spine. You almost feel as if the word has taken on a life of its own, as though it’s no longer about allegiance or honor, but something far more personal, far more intimate. It’s as if he’s promising you something, something you’re not entirely sure you’re ready for. His words hit you like a spark in a dry field, igniting a fire you can’t quite control. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize that his suggestion is more than just about loyalty in the sense you’ve known. It carries a weight, a pull that makes your pulse quicken, your chest tighten, and your mind start to wander down paths it shouldn’t be going. Your face flushes, the heat creeping up your neck, as you begin to wonder if he’s implying something far more sensual. Loyalty? you think to yourself. It seems innocent, but the way he said it… the way his voice lingers on each syllable—there’s a darkness to it, a quiet invitation that feels charged with promise. You’ve been around the king long enough to know that he’s not a man of simple words. Every sentence feels calculated, every glance laced with purpose. The thought of loyalty becomes something else entirely in your mind. It shifts from the idea of service to something more personal—more visceral. Your stomach tightens, a flicker of something stirring deep inside you as your thoughts race down that path. What did he mean? The heat in your cheeks intensifies, and you find yourself stumbling over your own thoughts, as though your body is reacting before your mind can make sense of it all.

His gaze never wavers, watching you closely, as though he can sense the confusion, the uncertainty, the sudden shift in your demeanor. That knowing smirk pulls at the corner of his lips, and the flicker of something darker, more dangerous, dances in his eyes. It’s a look that says he knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how his words are landing on you, and it makes your heart race even faster. He tilts his head slightly, a motion so small, so imperceptible, that it only serves to draw you in further. He’s watching you closely, his eyes scanning your face for the smallest change, for that flicker of recognition. The tension between you thickens, a quiet storm gathering on the horizon. He’s waiting, and you can feel it, the expectation hanging in the air like a breath held just out of reach.

“Would you let me?” His voice is soft, almost soothing, but there’s an undeniable edge to it. An authority that lingers in the command. The question itself, the way he asks it, is layered, rich with implications you aren’t entirely sure you’re ready to face. His words drift through the space between you, thick with that unspoken promise, and for a moment, it feels as if time itself has stopped. You can feel the weight of it, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air. The flush on your cheeks deepens, and you swallow hard, unsure of how to respond. His presence, the way his words have wrapped themselves around your mind, has left you breathless. You’re not sure if you’re responding to the promise of loyalty in the way he means it, or if you’ve misinterpreted it entirely, your thoughts racing into dangerous territory. But Thranduil, ever the observer, sees the shift in you—the way your breath quickens, the subtle tension in your shoulders, the flush in your cheeks—and it only serves to further amuse him. He’s playing with you, testing the boundaries of your control, and you can’t help but feel as though he’s already won.

Thranduil steps closer, his presence overwhelming as the air between you seems to narrow, charged with something unspoken. His smirk deepens, a subtle curve that holds both amusement and intrigue, as though he’s unraveling every thought tumbling through your flustered mind. “You’re trembling,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a tone that feels like silk brushing against your skin. His hand, so light yet deliberate, grazes the barest edge of your wrist. The touch is fleeting, almost innocent, but it sends a wave of heat coursing through you. His gaze sharpens, watching as your lips part slightly, caught between a breath and a response you can’t seem to find. “Don’t worry.” His words are a low purr now, each one carrying a weight that presses down on you. “I’ll show you exactly how to handle it.” Your chest tightens at his phrasing, the suggestion hanging heavy in the space between you. He seems so certain, so effortlessly calm, while your thoughts spiral deeper into dangerous territory. The confidence in his tone, the commanding edge laced with that undercurrent of promise, leaves you unsteady on your feet. You know—you know—he means something else entirely, but the way he says it… your cheeks burn hotter, and you can’t stop yourself from imagining something far more intimate.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭 (two versions below)

(First one)

The sun had set, casting a gentle twilight glow over the valley of Rivendell. The golden light reflected off the rushing water that wound its way through the valley, bringing with it a sense of calm. The two of you had taken a stroll earlier, as you often did, your arm linked with Elrond’s as you walked side by side, occasionally exchanging soft words or comfortable silence. But now, the day had worn down, and you found yourselves in the quiet warmth of Elrond’s study, where the glow of the fireplace danced over the high, arched stone walls. He had been seated at his desk, reading through scrolls of ancient knowledge, but his attention shifted to you as he noticed the slight tension in your shoulders. You were curled up in a chair, your legs tucked under you, and your posture stiff. The weight of the day—of your thoughts, of your quiet anxieties—had settled on your body, making you uneasy. You hadn’t realized how tense you were until Elrond’s gentle gaze swept over you. His piercing eyes softened in concern.

As the leader of Rivendell and one of the most ancient of the Elves, Elrond had seen countless expressions, heard many words, and understood much of the hearts and minds of those around him. But the slight crease of your brow, the tension in your shoulders—these things spoke to him without words, louder than any speech could convey. He stood from his desk, his movements deliberate and calm, yet there was a tenderness in the way he approached you. “Mellon nín,” he murmured, his voice low, “You carry the weight of many thoughts this evening.” He moved closer, his presence filling the space, a steady, comforting warmth. The proximity between you both—just a step away—was enough to send a quiet ripple through the air. He was a tall figure, regal in his manner, and yet now, he leaned down slightly, his gaze fixed on you with both understanding and something softer.

He knelt down beside your chair, his hand resting lightly on the back of it. His fingers brushed the delicate fabric of your sleeve, the touch of his skin just enough to draw your attention to the closeness, the subtle pull between you. “You’re so tense,” Elrond said, his voice carrying an innocent sincerity, unaware of how his words might be interpreted. He leaned in slightly closer. “Shall I massage you? You’ll feel much looser under me.” The words slipped from his lips in perfect sincerity, his intent to ease your discomfort pure, but they hung in the air between you both, carrying a double meaning that left you with a quick breath. The way his gaze lingered just a moment too long made your heart skip. Elrond, for all his wisdom and centuries of experience, seemed blissfully unaware of the innuendo his words had inadvertently conjured.

Your breath hitched at his words, a flush rising to your cheeks as his innocent suggestion landed. You knew Elrond, knew how his mind worked, and yet there was something in the way he spoke to you—so direct, so matter-of-fact—that it felt a little too intimate, a little too close to the edge of something deeper. His words were innocent enough, the kind he would offer any guest in need of comfort or care, but his proximity—the warmth of his hand just behind your shoulder, the way he was bending just slightly to meet your gaze—made everything feel… different. You shifted in your seat, feeling the heat in your cheeks. The space between you both, so often a comforting familiarity, now felt charged. His deep, velvet voice, his gaze steady and soft, seemed to understand exactly where you needed to feel safe, but in that moment, his words somehow stoked the fire of your own flustered thoughts.

Trying to compose yourself, you cleared your throat, offering a forced smile, but the playful glint in his eye made it hard to keep your composure. “Elrond…” you began, but your voice faltered slightly, unsure whether to address his words directly or to brush it off. His brows furrowed ever so slightly in concern. “Did I say something wrong?” You hesitated, looking at him. His earnest expression was almost too much to bear. He truly did not seem to realize the effect his words were having on you. How could he, when his understanding of language was so direct, so innocent? He had always been somewhat naïve to the nuances of human interaction—those sly little jokes or innuendos that often slipped past him. “No… No, it’s nothing,” you said quickly, trying to regain your composure. “I just—wasn’t expecting it.” You laughed softly, but the flush on your skin remained.

A soft chuckle escaped him then, low and melodic, as he leaned in just a touch closer, his face now mere inches from yours. “Ah, Mellon nín, I meant only to ease your tension. I would never wish to cause you discomfort.” He reached out then, fingers gliding over the tense muscles in your shoulder, as if trying to physically soothe you. His touch was gentle, purposeful, and you couldn’t help but feel the unspoken understanding in the way he moved. Elrond was so tender, so deliberate in his every action. His closeness only amplified the heat that had begun to settle beneath your skin. “I will ease your discomfort,” he said quietly, his voice both reassuring and soft. As he leaned in just a little closer, his breath brushing your ear, the innocent nature of his words took on a different edge. For all his wisdom and poise, Elrond’s understanding of the subtleties of human relationships had its limits.

Yet, in his earnestness, he seemed to have unwittingly created a moment where closeness became more than just physical, but something more intimate, something personal. Something you weren’t sure whether to welcome or to shy away from. You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. His presence, his touch, had the power to disarm you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. And yet, as you looked up at him, you knew—despite the growing warmth between you both—that there was something undeniably genuine in Elrond’s actions. He was here for you, as always, whether you needed the massage he offered, or whether you needed space to clear your thoughts. Still, the tenderness in his gaze, the soft, deep sincerity that flowed through his words, left you wondering just how much of his affection was truly as innocent as it seemed.

(Second one)

The room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of a fire in the hearth. The high stone walls of Rivendell’s training hall stood as a testament to the skill and discipline of its people, and tonight, you were once again in Elrond’s care. You had come here to learn, to train in the ways of combat and defense, and Elrond—masterful as always—had been a patient, dedicated teacher. His lessons, though often stern, had always been delivered with a quiet kindness. Tonight, however, there was something different in the air. You could feel it, a shift. Elrond had been watching you closely as you practiced your swordplay, your form becoming more fluid, more precise with each strike. You had improved under his guidance, but this evening, it felt as if he were less focused on the formality of training and more on the connection between you both. He stood behind you now, the weight of his presence almost overwhelming, his tall figure casting a long shadow over the floor. His hands were behind his back, watching intently, but there was a certain softness to his expression. A small, approving smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed you, the practiced ease with which you handled your weapon now a point of pride.

His gaze never wavered from you, studying your movements, the subtle fluidity of your form, the grace that was slowly becoming evident. You have done well, he thought, but the satisfaction of seeing your progress only deepened the quiet hunger to see more. To guide you further. To understand you more fully. He could feel your energy—a faint tremble in your stance as your muscles burned from the exertion, the focus in your eyes that spoke of a deeper engagement than simple technique. It was a connection that went beyond instruction. His voice, when it came, was soft, measured, and tinged with a warmth he often reserved only for those who proved themselves worthy of his trust.

“You’ve been such a good student,” Elrond said, his tone low, the hint of praise lingering in the air. “I can see the effort you’ve put in. Would you like to know what happens to those who please me?” He stepped forward, his presence drawing near. The words, though they could easily be interpreted as praise for your progress, seemed to hang in the air with an almost too suggestive quality. His smile lingered just a moment too long, and the glint in his eyes—the subtle flash of something darker, more possessive—suggested there was another lesson at play.

It was as if he were offering more than just guidance. As if his approval meant something deeper. Something he had not yet said aloud, but you could feel it nonetheless. His words echoed in the stillness of the room, and for a moment, the weight of the air between you both seemed to thicken. You straightened instinctively, unsure whether to respond with gratitude for his praise or to question the meaning behind his words. Elrond had always been so careful, so precise in his speech, that the unexpectedness of his tone took you by surprise.

At first, his statement appeared innocent, almost like a mentor’s simple acknowledgment of your hard work. But the way his smile curved at the edges, the way his eyes softened with that knowing glint—suddenly, you weren’t so sure. There was an unspoken weight in his voice, a shift in his demeanor that was hard to ignore. It felt as though there was more to this than mere praise for your training. He was closer now, his presence towering over you in a way that made your breath catch. His words—were they a test? An invitation? You couldn’t tell, but the air felt charged. You knew he was a master of more than just combat and wisdom; his understanding of people, of connection, was something that had always been subtle, even hypnotic. You could feel your pulse quicken as his proximity made the room feel smaller, more intimate. What happens to those who please him?

The question lingered, and you found your own thoughts flickering—should you ask him to clarify, or did you already know? Had you somehow crossed a line without realizing it? His quiet confidence, his effortless power, made everything seem so delicate, so easy, as if he could command anything with just a look. You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, but there was something about him that made it difficult to hold onto your usual composure. His praise was a rare thing, and you’d always known that earning it from him was something special. But now, the edges of his words seemed to promise something more—a lesson that could very well be more personal than you’d anticipated.

The silence between you two stretched, thickening the air. Your heart pounded against your chest as his gaze never left you, an intensity in his eyes that made it difficult to breathe. His words, though seemingly innocent, were loaded with meaning you couldn’t quite grasp. You felt your mind scrambling for something to say, something to break the tension, but all you could hear was the steady rhythm of your breath, growing faster with each passing moment. It happened before you could stop yourself. The words slipped from your lips, an unbidden response to his question—almost a whisper, but they were there, unmistakably. “Please you, my lord?” The moment the phrase left your mouth, you froze, feeling a rush of heat surge through your cheeks. The words had sounded so innocent, so formal in your mind, yet hearing them aloud, spoken directly to him, suddenly carried a weight you hadn’t anticipated. You hadn’t meant to say it like that, but there it was, and the immediate flush on your skin made it clear that you understood exactly how that could be taken.

Elrond’s expression didn’t falter. His lips remained curved in that knowing smile, though now, there was something in his eyes that made your pulse spike even further. He was no longer simply the patient teacher, the wise healer, the master of Rivendell’s ways. No, now there was something more, something darker, flickering just beneath the surface of his calm demeanor. His voice was soft when he finally spoke, but it was laden with a layer of amusement, as if he found your slip both endearing and… intriguing. “My, my,” he said, stepping even closer, his presence now almost overwhelming. His words felt like a caress against your skin, both gentle and possessive. “It seems you’ve already understood part of the lesson, though not quite in the way I intended.”

He leaned down slightly, his breath brushing your ear, and the proximity made everything inside you tighten, an unfamiliar tension pooling in your stomach. There was no escaping the look in his eyes now, the glint that told you he knew exactly what had just happened, and the way he was savoring the moment made you realize that the balance between your training and something else entirely had shifted. “I didn’t expect you to be quite so… eager,” Elrond murmured, the faintest trace of a tease in his voice. Your heart hammered, your thoughts in disarray. You had never meant to sound… that way. But now, it seemed your slip had opened a door to something you weren’t sure you were prepared for. His proximity, the heat of his gaze, the soft, commanding tone of his voice—it all swirled together, threatening to pull you into something deeper, more complicated.

You shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to respond. Did you try to correct yourself, explain it away? Or did you simply accept that your slip had led you down a path you might not have been able to turn back from? The answer, it seemed, lay in the tension that still hung heavy between you both, a tension that, for the first time, you weren’t sure you wanted to escape. Elrond’s lips quirked slightly showing his amusement, as if he were waiting for your response, patiently observing the way your mind worked to piece together the right words, or whether you would simply… remain silent, letting the moment unfold on its own. The choice, it seemed, was yours.

🏵️𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭 (two versions below)

(First one)

The small, dimly lit meeting chamber hummed with quiet tension. The heavy wooden door closed behind you, cutting off the noise of the bustling halls. A faint smell of polished wood and old parchment lingered in the air, but it did little to mask the energy that crackled between you and Gil-galad. He stood near the center of the room, his regal armor gleaming under the soft light from the high windows. Even in the stillness, his presence was undeniable. The way he stood, tall and poised, every inch the king—yet there was something about the way his eyes followed you, focused with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but something about this moment felt different.

Gil-galad’s gaze remained on you, calculating, as if he was measuring more than just your physicality. He’d always been a master of reading the room, and you could sense that, just as in battle, he knew exactly what kind of challenge to present to draw out your true strength. He stepped closer, the sound of his boots against the stone floor the only noise that broke the silence. “I would show you the full extent of my strength,” Gil-galad’s voice was low and controlled, but there was an undeniable edge to it—like the calm before a storm. His eyes never left yours as he continued, his words slow, deliberate. “But only if you can prove you’re worthy of it.” You blinked, momentarily stunned. Was this a challenge of combat? Or something more? There was a dangerous undertone to his words, one that made your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest. He wasn’t just speaking about strength in battle. You could tell. The way he phrased it, the soft command in his tone, suggested that this challenge was more than physical. It was something deeper, something rawer. A game of wills, a clash of desires, emotions, and unspoken promises. Your body tightened, and before you could stop yourself, your mind wandered—unbidden—to places it shouldn’t. You thought of him not as a warrior but as a lover, the power that surged through him in a far different context. You imagined his strength, his solid frame pinning you against the bed, his hands gripping you with that same firm intensity he used in battle. The thought hit you like a sudden wave.

You found yourself blushing—a heat flooding your face that spread rapidly through your chest. You couldn’t look away, but you couldn’t stop the surge of thoughts either. Was that the kind of strength he was speaking of? Was he daring you to enter a different kind of battle? One where his strength would take on a far more intimate form? You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, your breath catching in your throat. Gil-galad, ever perceptive, saw the change in you immediately. His lips curled up into the faintest of smiles, but there was no hint of mockery—only a knowing look, as if he could read your thoughts more clearly than you ever could. His gaze deepened, and for a moment, he was still—waiting, watching, allowing the silence to hang in the air between you like a taut rope ready to snap. You swallowed hard, your pulse racing as his next words came with even more weight than before, his voice dropping an octave lower, more gravelly. “You think you can match my strength in more ways than one?” he said, his words slow, testing, his breath warm against your skin as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Prove it. Show me you’re worthy.” Your heart skipped a beat, and a wave of warmth rushed over you, thick and heavy. There was no mistaking what he was implying now, no ambiguity. Gil-galad wasn’t just offering a challenge of strength, he was inviting you into something far more intimate, a space where emotions, desires, and vulnerabilities tangled together.

You could feel the tension thickening, swirling between the two of you like an unseen force. His posture was perfect, commanding, yet there was a subtle shift in him now, something just for you. His eyes never left yours, daring you, waiting for you to respond. But the only thing you could feel was the heat in your chest, your lips dry, your body both frozen and yearning. How would you respond to a challenge like that? The words were barely on your lips, but before you could speak, Gil-galad spoke again, his voice softer now, but just as heavy with meaning. “I’ve seen your strength.” His voice was almost tender now, though still laced with that underlying edge. “But now I wonder… how far you’re willing to go to prove it.” You swallowed again, your mind a whirl of confusion and desire. He was daring you. But to what end? You couldn’t even find the words to explain how his presence, his strength, and his challenge had you reeling.

The silence stretched unbearably as your thoughts churned in disarray. Your heart pounded in your chest, so loud you were sure Gil-galad could hear it. The weight of his gaze, the intensity of his words, the challenge in his posture—all of it was too much. You wanted to respond, to summon some clever retort or steady reply, but nothing came. You simply stood there, caught in the maelstrom of emotions and desires he had so effortlessly stirred within you. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, and he took another step closer, the faint sound of his boots on the stone floor breaking through the haze clouding your mind. Before you could retreat, his face was inches from yours, his tall frame towering over you as he leaned down slightly. His breath was warm against your skin, his voice low and teasing as he finally broke the silence.

“Earth to Y/N,” he said, a rare flicker of humor coloring his tone, though the intensity in his eyes never wavered. “Are you still with us, Y/N?” The words startled you, pulling you back to reality with a jolt. His tone was playful, but the proximity, the way his voice wrapped around your name, and the sheer force of his presence made your breath hitch. You tried to respond, but your tongue felt tied, your thoughts still caught somewhere between propriety and the wicked turn your imagination had taken moments before. “I—yes, my king,” you managed, though your voice cracked slightly. The heat in your cheeks deepened as you quickly looked away, but it was impossible to escape him. He didn’t move back. If anything, he leaned even closer, his presence utterly overwhelming.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though no less commanding. “Because you seem… distracted.” Your eyes snapped back to his, wide and alarmed. His gaze searched yours, and there was no denying it—he knew. The faint smile that lingered on his lips told you that he’d read every thought that had crossed your mind, every inappropriate flash of imagery you’d tried so hard to suppress. “I—no, I’m not,” you stammered quickly, though you cursed yourself for how unconvincing you sounded. “Is that so?” he asked, his tone casual but his words deliberate, as if testing the weight of each one. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Because for a moment, you seemed far away. Lost in thought. Or perhaps…” He let the sentence trail off, the silence more damning than any words he could have spoken.

Your pulse raced, and your knees felt weak as his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that left no room for escape. You couldn’t tell if he was toying with you, testing you, or something more, but every inch of your body was hyperaware of him—his closeness, his strength, the sheer power he exuded even in such an intimate space. “I’m not distracted,” you said finally, though your voice lacked the conviction you so desperately wanted to project. He smiled then, a slow, knowing smile that sent another wave of heat through your body. “Good,” he said softly, his voice carrying the same weight it had before, but now laced with unmistakable amusement. “Because I’d hate to think my words went unheard.”

(Second one)

The air between you and Gil-galad seemed thicker than before, a charged stillness filling the dim chamber as if the very walls were listening. He stood before you, radiating a calm and calculated strength, his piercing eyes fixed on you with a weight that made your heart thunder. The subtle tilt of his head and the way his fingers rested lightly on the edge of the table spoke volumes, though his words were yet to come. There was an undeniable authority to him, but it wasn’t the kind of authority that demanded—it was the kind that commanded. “I know how to break a person,” he said at last, his voice low, steady, and smooth as molten silver. The words sent a jolt through you, not because they sounded cruel, but because of how deliberate they were—measured and intimate, like a confession meant only for your ears. “But I would much rather see you surrender willingly.”

The way he spoke made your mind falter, tripping over the multiple layers in his statement. Was he speaking of battle? Testing your defenses, your resolve? Or was this something else entirely? You swallowed hard, but your throat felt dry, and the faint heat already rising in your chest now rushed through you like wildfire. Your gaze darted to the floor briefly, unable to meet the intensity in his eyes, but the moment you did, the unbidden thought crept into your mind—a thought you couldn’t unsee. Surrender. The word seemed to echo in your mind, taking on a form all its own. Your traitorous imagination painted the image with startling clarity: you, on your knees before him, your head bowed in submission, not in defeat but in something far deeper, something raw and entirely outside the bounds of propriety. The thought burned through you like a brand, and you felt a flush creep up your neck and into your cheeks. You tried to push it away, to remind yourself of who he was and who you were, but his words… they lingered. The way he had said willingly felt too intimate, too knowing, and it unraveled you further. Gil-galad, perceptive as ever, noticed the change in your posture immediately. His gaze sharpened, his lips curving into the faintest smirk—not one of mockery, but of quiet understanding. “You hesitate,” he said softly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, his tone low and coaxing. He took a step closer, the movement precise and deliberate, closing the already small gap between you. “I—” Your voice faltered, caught somewhere between protest and surrender, but the words wouldn’t come.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but somehow heavier with meaning. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. “What it means to surrender. What it would feel like.” Your heart leapt into your throat. He couldn’t possibly know what had just crossed your mind, could he? The thought was mortifying, but the way his voice dropped, the way his words lingered, made you wonder. “N-no, I wasn’t,” you stammered, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “No?” he murmured, stepping even closer. His presence was overwhelming now, his height, his posture, the sheer weight of his attention all crashing down on you like a tide. He studied your expression carefully, and for a moment, you thought you saw the barest flicker of satisfaction in his gaze. “Then why are you blushing?” You froze, the words catching you off guard. Your lips parted, but no sound came out as you scrambled for a response that wouldn’t further incriminate you.

“Do not lie to me,” he said, his tone soft but commanding, a gentle nudge that stripped away your defenses. “You can deny it all you wish, but I see it. The idea tempts you, doesn’t it?” The weight of his words made your knees weak, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you wondered if he would notice if you truly sank to them now. The image in your mind surged forward again, unbidden and undeniable. You, kneeling before him, surrendering not out of defeat but because of the trust and power he exuded—because of the unrelenting pull you felt toward him.

Gil-galad leaned in slightly, close enough now that you could feel the heat of him, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “There is no shame in surrender,” he murmured. “Not when it is given freely.” Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could do was stare up at him, your pulse pounding in your ears. The weight of his presence, his words, his gaze—it was too much. You felt like you were unraveling beneath him, but the faint, knowing smirk on his lips suggested that he wouldn’t let you fall completely. At least, not until you chose to.