#haladriel au

[passingfaes]

I would cross oceans for you. 🩸 Haladriel Vampire AU.

[fluorescentbalaclava]

Modem Haladriel AU where she's a prosecutor from the Crown Prosecution Service and he's a hitman hired to kill her but he takes a liking of her and starts killing the other hitmen that are after her while planning casual encounters with her in her daily life like going to the coffee shop she likes

[bad-surprise]

one thing i can’t get enough of

chapter 3

haladriel x dirty dancing | E | 9.9k | 3/4

[inexpressiblybeautiful]

Maybe in a different universe/life

[lion-hearted-wolf]

Haladriel Summer Bash Day 6 - Siren Galadriel @haladrielsweek . “I know your kind, cursed creature,” the sorcerer speaks. Ship wrecks between his lips, sailors cry their pleas for help toward an indifferent sky. “Daughter of the sea, harbinger of death. So many have lost their minds because of you, but I can offer you more than a scarce feast of flesh and bones.” 

A smile curves his salted, cracked lips. 

“You only have to join me.”

He holds his breath. The siren stares at him with blue eyes, fragments of the same stormy waters the raft was dragged into. Then, she lifts her head. In the distance, a bolt of lightning wounds the sky, grey and impassive. An omen. Or a bearer of new beginnings? 

The sorcerer’s eyes never leave her figure. It’s just a matter of time - a silent prayer, tightening his grip on the rope. I need you, you need my power. 

Let’s see if you really are soulless as they say. 

She’s looking at him. Pale blue eyes, pale lips, waiting for a sign. He stretches a hand in front of him, slightly caressing the water. The wind howls in the distance, begging for another chance of destruction. 

The siren swims towards the raft, moonlight caressing her pearly scales.  . [in which Mairon’s a sorcerer disguising himself as a lowly man known as Halbrand and Galadriel a siren, one of the wisest and most dangerous creatures living in Arda’s seas. He’s searching for her during a quest for power, but their goals could be the same.]

[love-and-doom]

Noir AU where Sauron is a male femme fatale seducing people for his own benefits only to fall in love with Galadriel the detective hunting/investigating his murders/romantic cons

[mirroringdust]

Academic rivals AU and inspired by a quote from the labyrinth: "Fear, love me, let me rule you and I'll be your slave" for @ichabodcranemills and the Gifts of the valar exchange by @thehaladrielfancollective

There are things no knowledge of the world can prepare you for.

It is the fear of being worthless that inspires your very being, inspires you to do greater, be greater but sometimes it comes back, spirals right back to you. At the end of it all you might realise that you’re only running away and greatness was the only way out of feeling small. Yet being small was never the problem at its core, it was the lack of light that was.

~

She could be anywhere, could have gone anywhere, but a long time ago, she’d decided that this was her path to walk and now she would stay here and turn it into a surrounding in which she'd do more than just survive. She woud stick to the fire of inspiration guiding her through and black out all the other things that dared to overthrow this beacon of knowledge. Nothing could beat the fascination of these moments, of pieces falling into place when she came close to ancient times, and probably nothing ever would. 

Yet what Galadriel was doing right now, was far from a source of wonder in this big, confusing institution called academia. It was one of these things, she liked to black out, she had to push through, thinking that she only would do this, so she could research, so she could become an ambassador of science.

Nonetheless, talking to people and participation in representational acts that were only for performance, only a feigning of people who believed themselves to be greater than their studies, was part of this swirling, evolving temple of higher education. Such conversations were fine when she could talk about her projects, when she could blazon enthusiastically on her new findings and get impressions and inspiration from other research. When she could contribute her ideas productively, everything felt stimulating and worthwhile. 

In this old, almost brutalist 70s style main building of the Faculty of Philosophy, it did not feel that way at all. The wooden stools in the lecture hall were too hard to sit on, and the lines of people she had to overlook were too regular, grey, too much dressed up for this solemn occasion of the faculty's anniversary and greeting of the new students. When Galadriel looked up, all she could see were dull green walls that made the old, used blackboard on the other side look like a shiny object, even though there was nothing shiny about this place. How could there be, when the sun had problems fighting its way through a few thin, vertical windows at the top of the building. At times, it felt as if the outside world had been completely cut off, the only light coming from temporary, seemingly replaced fluorescent tubes that cast a blinding glare around the room, accompanied by a low buzz, as if they made it a task to guarantee that no one would fall asleep. Too bad that all these efforts seemed to not have paid off when they chose the most uninspired talker, a soon to be retired professor.

The Head of the Faculty had risen from his chair and had explained, in a hushed voice and with far too much space between words, why research into the ‘History of Middle-earth’ was so important, and why it was important to research it in order to understand the people and other beings who had lived there, to understand their perceptions and customs, so that “we could,” pause pause pause “if not learn from it,” pause pause pause “at least understand our” pause pause “own time better.” 

It was almost unbearable and it took all Galadriel's strength not to doze off from time to time out of boredom. She would give anything to be able to do something useful with her time again, instead of waiting for the old gent to add the next word and finish his sentence, if only she could keep her doctorate. She had fought too hard for that to give it away again. To keep herself from closing her eyes, she straightened her own black dress, suitable for such an occasion, long sleeves, simple, A-line shape (someone had told her), black tights, black flats. Maybe too much black? But the atmosphere seemed somehow similar to a funeral, so it might even fit. Then she played with a strand of her blonde hair that had found its way out of her bun as she looked over at Elrond.

4/4 chapters posted

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[wickedrum]