#I just feel more physically tired day by day and it feels like I am being lazy and not trying hard enough

[lilacstro]

"I'll imagine we fell in love, i'll nap under moonlight skies with you"🌙 pac: what does your forever person look like<3

hey y'all, I hope you're fine. It's been a while since I posted a pac, so here we are. I love love love this song, its so beautiful. I hope you play this song after this if you don't know this one, I am sure you'd not be disappointed ;)

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Paid readings open

★Pile 1★

mini energy check: ok pile 1, it seems like you may be introverted, or maybe just isolated currently. that was one thing that was coming through. You may have been waiting for this person for forever or quite sometime now is one more thing coming through. It may feel delayed, setbacks or something may always come in between.

Physical appearance: This person may be asian, especially east asian?? or they may have monolids. For others, they may also have tattoos, a very lively yet intimidating face? Something about them may want you to reach out to them but also scare or intimidate you at the same time. This person has something very bright, very noticeable, almost as if you can recognize them in a big crowd. They may have a young, innocent face, bedroom eyes and an athletic body, if not necessarily muscular. Gives me boy next door vibes speaking of which there is maybe a band called boynextdoor and they are japanese? if I'm right? because Japan was coming a lot in this reading, maybe they have really good fashion sense.

Their personality, vibe and energy: They are likely to be ambiverts, someone who has bursts of energy. If we talk about MBTI, they may be the turbulent types. Idk why but Leo Mercury coming through as well. This person would be all over the place, I am hearing, "everything, everywhere, all at once" and then get tired. They have a child like spirit and curiosity to them. They may also have trouble concentrating for long hours, and may get disappointed if they are not able to do 173920 tasks that they wanted to. They are a leader, and like to lead people, take responsibilities and learn and do many new things, but at the end of the day, behind all this energy and hype, there is a silent, introspective soul. Extremely aware, to a point where they may even get into an almost meditative state, feeling their pulse. I am hearing, "going numb", so this person may often feel incomplete, or unhappy inside despite having all.

your relationship with them: your relationship with them may take some time to bloom, but be assured, it would prosper long term. This may likely be because of how aware and introspective this person is, but once they decide that you are the one, they become "the man", the person you want and need. Extremely emotionally available. They are not the types who would play mind games with you. This person will show you the real intimacy. I am hearing "talking hands", this person either may love tarot? or other forms of divination? but mostly they would stand on their words and prove them with actions. There would be beautiful merge of feelings, and intellect and communication. Words of affirmations, you'd never feel lonely or unloved with this person. Just how a flower blooms slowly, you would open up to this person and this relationship would progress in its time, there is no force other than the one of nature.

★Pile 2★

mini energy check: some of you guys here could be breaking out a lot? or maybe feel itchy? There can also be some kind of discomfort in the body, as in feeling restless or just uneasy? You may feel extra cautious towards your skin, food and body these days. Korean skincare coming through??

Physical appearance: This person looks mature, and reserved and would not like attention to themselves. A sharp jawline. Scorpio and Capricorn may be significant in their chart or they may have such intense features. They may like wearing black a lot, especially flowy clothing. A tall, intimidating stature, idk why but I am hearing this person looks like an anime? yandre? I am so sorry I am not aware about anime or anything, but all I can say is this person looks mystifying and intense.

Their personality, vibe and energy: This person may be rather reserved and may not present their cards on the table for everyone to see. They may like to have different ways and personalities to deal with different kinds of people. This person is not a leader tbh, more like an owner, a boss, an authority figure. I am hearing "I own it". This person may even have nervous energy inside them but you would never guess. Some people may find them shallow, but they just do not reveal themselves to anyone just like that. Its hard to know them. This person is a visionary, a creative and full of ideas though. There can be an irritable, erratic, and elusive nature them sometimes, especially when it comes to their work, they are serious. They may have built their way to the top to what they have. Extreme hardworkers. They cannot be bossed around tbh. They may enjoy nature a lot.

your relationship with them: Your relationship to them is a breath of fresh air. This relationship would heal you, unwind you to your core, and help you let go of any past traumas you've had. This person gives me total "book bf" vibes, because they would love you like no other. I am hearing "kiss me on the mouth, and love me like a sailor". This person is a total softie for you tbh. This relationship would be incredibly healing, and your love would be more than valued and reciprocated. For some of you, this person would have to manage stuff between their job/studies and you, and be assured they would. You guys may see each other in dreams a lot, a lot of closeness and intimacy. You both would complete each other tbh. This relationship may very well be a past life, incomplete love story kind of romance. Your world would feel like full of warmth and sunshine after you meet this person. You guys may also enjoy doing art, or exploring art and music together. You both would bind each other down for good. idk why am i hearing "whispers in your ear" lmao. I am also hearing "mother at first sight"? Maybe the envision a family with you or you may remind them of a mother figure, or you may fill that space in them through your love. This person sees you as divine, almost like a goddess.

★Pile 3★

mini energy check: you guys maybe the eldest in your house? or may be really bossy, unwilling to listen to someone or work under someone as such. A lot of independent, masculine energy. Tbh you guys may be the one who know this song at the very least if not like it a lot. Its giving me the vibe of "I am a strong independent women who need no one but a cute guy would be nice idk" lmao. You guys may have recently completed something and some of you may also have started to embrace themselves, take your mask off, do self help stuff, and impose healthy boundaries recently. Some of you here really need to give your ears a rest if you use headphones lmao

Physical appearance: Some of you here may have already met this person, whether it be that they are friendzoned or you are dating them, there is no ex energy here and if this isn't your case then ofc you haven't met them yet. You guys may also have been attracted to pile 1, and 2 as well? or may have hard time choosing. This person looks really young, like really young. For some of you this person may also look androgynous, but really beautiful and charming. They may also have an innocent look onto them or something. A very "pure" looking person. A glowing face, charming presence. I am seeing bruno mars for some reason? This person also may not be super tall or something but rather a bit short if not "too" short or something. A very beautiful face, both the genders may find them appealing tbh. Very well could have Moon or Venus or both in 1st house. May have long, untamed hair as well. Some of them may also have that "jazz bar" look. Good body proportions but may usually stand with crossed hands or some protective look.

Their personality, vibe and energy: This person does not like drama and conflict. I was already getting a Libra vibe from them in the physical appearance check. They are also brave, very consistent and someone who would never give up, even on you (aw). They are the perfect mix of a mom and dad energy, they would fight and protect, everyone, including their friends and family. This person may also be super stubborn and defensive sometimes, especially when its about someone or something their emotions are tied to. A big homebody kind of person. This person would not hide a lot from anyone and would most likely be up for a conversation most of the times, extroverted energy coming through. They may even study philosophy, I almost said "philanthropy"? So they may even have some kind of connection to that? Could be because this person is extremely giving, to a point where there is no energy or time left for them. They are the friend people call at 3 am lmao.

your relationship with them: This person first of all may like grand gestures of love, serenading you for example or telling you how much they love you, whatever it is. This person may have STRONG scorpio kind of energy with you. Almost like they would merge you, two souls in one, and not let anyone lay their eyes on you, to an obsessive level. May get jealous easily. You guys would be very coherent and very emotional, both of it, in extremes. This would transform you honestly, this person and relationship, both. Your ancestors may lead you to this person. There is an energy of "I ain't letting you go" and "you got me fixed on you" lmao. This person would be your guide and love through the toughest times of life, maybe that's why this would be transformative, but even if not that, this person would show you direction in life, maybe that's why ancestral thing was coming through. This person would heal and accept your shadows and flaws, nothing to hide from them :)

[earthlybeam]

I saw a post about Thranduil disability due to his scar (can’t find it 😭) makes me wonder how he’ll approach it with a partner? Scars are such a deep delicate piece of one self and he use some kind of magic to hide it I suppose he is self conscious about it? It’s too sad! And apparently elves only love once that also mean boy is stuck in the past forever 😭

In the context below, I am sharing a headcanon about Scar (my personal opinion). Than Answer your question in How might he approach his partner regarding his scar?. Lastly how his partner discovered his scar for first time.

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Thranduil Version below. (Your his partner)

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

Headcanons on Thranduil’s Scar (A Personal headcanon of mine)

𐂂 Constant Soreness and Sensitivity The scarred side of Thranduil’s face remains perpetually sore and sensitive to the touch. His skin feels like it’s still healing, even after centuries. The scar tissue is more prone to reacting to changes in weather or pressure. The sensation can range from dull aching to sharp discomfort, especially in moments of physical stress or emotional strain. Often, he will gently press his left hand against his cheek or forehead, as if trying to soothe the constant irritation. This act becomes subconscious, a private coping mechanism he does when he thinks no one is watching.

𐂂 Cool Damp Cloth to Ease the Burn Sometimes, the scar feels like it’s burning up, especially on hot days or when he’s been using his magic extensively. Thranduil will often apply a cool damp cloth to his left cheek or forehead to alleviate the sensation of heat. The cloth is more than just for comfort; it helps momentarily distract him from the constant reminder of the pain he’s learned to live with. This is one of his more private moments of self-care, something that might happen behind closed doors when he’s alone or when he feels the need to quiet the discomfort.

𐂂 Blindness in the Left Eye Thranduil’s left eye is permanently blinded, a painful reminder of the battle with the Fire Drakes. He keeps the blindness hidden through elven glamour magic, creating the illusion of a normal appearance, but the loss of vision is always present in his awareness. He consciously angles his head to ensure that he’s constantly aware of his surroundings, making sure that people stand on his right side where he can see them with his only functional eye. This is not an overt action but more of a natural positioning habit he’s developed over centuries. Thranduil has grown hyper-aware of sounds and other stimuli from his left side, his sense of hearing and intuition becoming stronger to compensate for his blind spot. He trusts his senses more than most might expect.

𐂂 Magical Glamour is Exhausting Maintaining the glamour magic that hides the scar and his blindness is tiring. The magic is subtle but constant, and after long periods of exertion or emotional turmoil, Thranduil will feel the strain. Occasionally, the glamour flickers or weakens, especially when his emotions are stirred or when he’s exhausted. Thranduil tends to avoid using his magic excessively in public settings, fearing that someone might notice the flicker in his disguise. This causes him to retreat even more into solitude, especially when he feels vulnerable.

𐂂 Increased Sensitivity to Pain Thranduil experiences sudden, sharp bursts of pain from his scar, particularly during moments of heightened emotional intensity. When he’s angry or distressed, the scar seems to flare up, sending sharp jolts of pain through his face. These episodes can catch him off guard, making him appear more agitated or distant than he actually is. He hides this pain behind a mask of regal composure, but in private moments, his discomfort becomes almost unbearable, especially if someone brings up the past or the cause of the injury.

𐂂 Emotional Distance and Wariness Thranduil’s scar creates emotional distance between him and others. His insecurities about the disfigurement make him wary of anyone getting too close. He is protective of his face and will recoil if someone tries to touch it, even if it’s a gesture of affection.

𐂂 The vulnerability of the scar makes him very selective about who is allowed near him physically. Only those he trusts deeply—like Legolas or perhaps his closest advisors—are allowed to approach his left side without triggering his wariness.

𐂂 Physical and Psychological Scar The physical scar is not just a mark of the fire but also a psychological wound. It represents loss—of strength, invulnerability, and the youth he once had. Even after centuries, Thranduil has not fully come to terms with the damage it has done to him. There are moments where the scar represents shame or failure in his eyes. In these rare moments of self-reflection, he might wonder what he could have done differently to avoid the injury. These thoughts are fleeting but haunting.

𐂂 Reluctance to Reveal the Scar Thranduil hides his scar even from his own kin, especially in times when he feels emotionally exposed or when others might question his vulnerabilities. He has mastered the art of maintaining an air of perfection, masking the reality of his injury behind layers of magic and pride. Even in moments of closeness with Legolas, he might be hesitant to fully reveal his scar, especially when Legolas was a child. Over time, Legolas would have likely seen glimpses of the truth, but Thranduil would remain reticent about discussing it unless absolutely necessary.

𐂂 Feeling of Weakness and Humiliation Thranduil’s scar serves as a constant reminder of his mortality. It is one thing for him to be immortal and unyielding in battle, but the scar exposes a weakness, something he cannot erase or change. It stands as proof that even the mightiest elves can fall prey to danger, and this thought haunts him on particularly dark days. The idea of being vulnerable or less-than-perfect can cause him immense humiliation, especially in front of others. He might lash out in anger or act coldly to keep anyone from probing too deeply into his scars, both physical and emotional.

𐂂 Compensatory Behavior in Social Situations In public settings, Thranduil’s movements become more deliberate. He turns his face slightly away from the left side, and if he needs to engage someone in conversation, he’ll usually position them to his right. If forced to interact with someone on his left side, he might unconsciously raise his left hand or arm to shield the scar, a gesture so ingrained in his behavior that he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. This gives an impression of confidence and strength, even though it’s driven by insecurity.

𐂂 A Potent and Healing Drink for thranduil Dorwinion wine is renowned for its strength, so much so that it can intoxicate even Elves—beings known for their exceptional resistance to alcohol. But after the dragon fire incident, Thranduil became accustomed to its effects, using it as a form of solace and numbing comfort. The potent wine became an essential part of his recovery, allowing him to dull the searing pain from the burns and the emotional scars left by the battle with the Fire Drakes. Thranduil drank it frequently during the recovery period, and over time, his tolerance to the wine grew so that it no longer affected him in the usual way. His resistance to the wine’s effects became almost legendary among his people, and he was often seen sipping from his glass without even a hint of inebriation, despite the powerful nature of the drink.

𐂂 Thranduil is often seen with a glass of Dorwinion wine at his side, a habit that traces back to his recovery from the devastating dragon fire scar inflicted by the Fire Drakes. It’s not merely a symbol of indulgence or luxury in the courts of Mirkwood—it is an integral part of Thranduil’s way of managing the constant physical pain from his scar and the emotional weight it carries. The deep burn that left his left side forever scarred remains a source of both soreness and intense sensitivity, flaring up in waves of discomfort. In moments of heightened pain, or when the scar acts up unexpectedly, Dorwinion wine provides him with a way to dull the sensation, allowing him a temporary respite. Over the centuries, he has become so accustomed to the wine’s effects that it no longer intoxicates him in the typical sense, but its warmth and rich flavor soothe him, offering him a momentary escape. The wine became his companion during the long days of recovery after the battle with the Fire Drakes, when it helped to numb both his physical injuries and the deeper wounds to his spirit. Now, it serves as both a comfort and a tool for self-regulation, helping him maintain his stoic façade in public while easing the persistent flare-ups of pain he still faces. Whether in private moments of reflection or in the company of trusted companions, the glass of Dorwinion wine never leaves his side. It is his silent ally in the ongoing battle with his scars, a ritual he clings to—one that has endured through the centuries—and a reminder of how far he has come from the ravages of dragon fire.

𐂂 Trust and Acceptance of Those Who See the Scar There are very few people in Middle-earth who Thranduil would allow to see the truth behind the glamour magic. He has shared his scar with Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn and Lord Elrond, trusting them not only with its physical existence but also with the pain and trauma tied to it. His vulnerability is a rare sight, and those who have seen the scar have gained a special place in his heart. Their respect for his journey and his pain likely helps Thranduil to feel less ashamed of his injury, though he never fully abandons his need for secrecy and composure.

𐂂 Elrond’s Continued Care for Thranduil’s Scar: Lord Elrond was one of the few who saw the full extent of Thranduil’s scars immediately after the battle with the Fire Drakes. As a healer, Elrond provided essential aid, using his knowledge to ease the Elven King’s pain and help with his recovery. Thranduil, despite his pride and reluctance to show weakness, trusted Elrond enough to seek his help in those dark days. Even now, centuries later, Elrond continues to send healing herbs and potions to Mirkwood to help manage the pain of Thranduil’s scar. These remedies are carefully crafted to soothe the constant discomfort Thranduil faces, especially during flare-ups. Though Thranduil often maintains a cold, aloof demeanor and refuses to openly acknowledge the depth of his suffering, Elrond understands that it’s a façade. He knows the king’s pride keeps him from seeking help openly, but he has seen the vulnerability behind that mask. Elrond’s gifts of healing aren’t just physical remedies—they are reminders of the bond they share. Thranduil, while distant, accepts them with quiet gratitude, though he rarely lets anyone see the true extent of his reliance on them. The Elven King keeps the potions and herbs close, knowing they bring relief when the pain becomes unbearable. This subtle, ongoing care from Elrond is a silent but powerful expression of trust and friendship, one that Thranduil allows only a very few to see.

𐂂 Galadriel’s Role in Thranduil’s Healing and Glamour Magic In the aftermath of the Fire Drakes’ attack, Lady Galadriel was instrumental in helping Thranduil conceal the scar’s true extent. Recognizing the emotional and physical toll the injury had on him, she used her deep wisdom and mastery of magic to teach Thranduil how to create a glamour spell that would hide the scar from the eyes of others. Galadriel helped him understand the subtlety and precision required to maintain such an illusion, knowing that it would provide him with the appearance of normalcy that he desperately craved. Galadriel’s guidance went beyond just the magical aspects of the glamour. She understood the emotional weight of Thranduil’s scar, and in her way, helped him process the trauma it caused. Her calm, patient nature gave him a sense of security, though Thranduil never fully allowed himself to express the extent of his vulnerability. Despite his reluctance to show weakness, he trusted Galadriel with this intimate aspect of his life, knowing that she would respect his need for privacy. As Thranduil became more adept at controlling the glamour, he felt a deep sense of gratitude toward Galadriel, though he would never openly express it. Her quiet support, both magical and emotional, allowed him to maintain his regal composure while still carrying the burden of his scar. In this rare exchange, Thranduil’s trust in Galadriel grew, cementing her place as one of the few who truly understood the full depth of his pain and the lengths he went to conceal it.

𐂂 Celeborn’s Role in Thranduil’s Healing Journey Though not directly involved in the magical healing like Galadriel, Celeborn played a crucial role in Thranduil’s recovery. His quiet wisdom and steady presence offered Thranduil the emotional balance he needed after the attack. Celeborn provided counsel on perseverance through suffering, understanding the weight of immortality and the scars time can leave. Celeborn’s gentle approach allowed Thranduil to reflect on his trauma without feeling judged. While Celeborn wasn’t overt in his support, his steady, reliable nature helped Thranduil navigate his emotional pain, earning a quiet but deep respect from the elven king over time. He was the grounding force that helped Thranduil find dignity in his suffering and maintain composure during the darkest times.

Would thranduil approach his partner (you) about his scar?

No, Thranduil would never approach his partner personally about the scar. He would keep it hidden, using glamour magic or subtle enchantments to conceal it, never intending to reveal it unless absolutely necessary. His self-consciousness about the scar runs deep, and he would never willingly share such a vulnerable part of himself. If the scar were discovered, it would likely happen accidentally, in a moment where his guard is lowered or his defenses slip. But until that point, Thranduil would ensure it remained a secret, too afraid of how it might change his partner’s perception of him. The dragon fire scar would undoubtedly be a profound source of insecurity for Thranduil, particularly given his deep attachment to his appearance, pride, and the image of immortality and strength he works tirelessly to project. Thranduil is not one to easily reveal his vulnerabilities. He cloaks much of his true self behind an imperious façade, maintaining an aura of stoic authority. To him, the scar represents a painful reminder of past failure—a wound that tarnishes the regal stature he strives to uphold, one that conflicts with the idealized, flawless image elves typically seek to preserve.

𐂂 Thranduil’s Approach in a Romantic Relationship In a romantic relationship, Thranduil would be profoundly guarded, reluctant to share either his physical or emotional scars. His pride and past experiences would make him exceedingly hesitant to open up about his insecurities, particularly regarding the scar from the dragon fire. The thought of his partner seeing the scar—of witnessing a flaw in his otherwise immaculate exterior—would terrify him. He would fear that exposing this vulnerability could unravel the carefully constructed perfection he works so hard to maintain, making him feel exposed and weak.

𐂂 First Approach: Keeping the Scar Hidden From the outset of a relationship, Thranduil would do everything in his power to keep his scar concealed. He would not mention it and would go to great lengths to hide it, using glamour magic or subtle enchantments to cover its visibility. His desire to maintain control over how others perceive him would be paramount. He would avoid allowing his partner to get too close on his left side, positioning himself deliberately so that only his right side was visible. This meticulous avoidance of physical proximity would be an instinctive action to protect himself from emotional exposure. To Thranduil, this secrecy would not be an act of dishonesty, but rather a way of maintaining his image of perfection. The scar is something he feels he must keep hidden, not only for the sake of his pride but to keep his partner from seeing what he perceives as a flaw that could compromise their view of him.

𐂂 When His Partner Discovers the Scar: The moment his partner accidentally discovers the scar would likely occur during an intimate, vulnerable moment. Perhaps they are close, and Thranduil, unable to manage his pain or discomfort, inadvertently lets his guard down. Or maybe in a rare instance, he allows himself to relax just enough for his partner to see the mark—something he’s spent so long hiding. If his partner discovers the scar, Thranduil would likely be immediately shaken, both emotionally and physically. His instincts would compel him to retreat emotionally, fearing that the sight of the scar will prompt judgment or pity. His mind would race with insecurity, and he would likely feel exposed in a way he is unprepared for. To protect himself, he might respond with coldness or a sharp, dismissive remark, masking his vulnerability behind a defensive wall. His emotional withdrawal would be a reflex—a way to regain control over a situation that has threatened to reveal more of him than he is willing to share. In that moment, Thranduil’s self-consciousness would overshadow everything else. His greatest fear—that his partner might see him as flawed or weakened—would take over, leading him to react with an almost instinctive desire to push them away or lash out. How he handles the discovery would depend on the partner’s response, but his initial reaction would be to defend himself, hiding behind his pride and withdrawing from the emotional connection that the discovery forces him to confront.

(Thranduil’s Reaction to His Partner (you) Discovering His Scar for the First Time) Artwork is https://www.deviantart.com/kapriss-art

The evening sun cast soft beams of light through the delicate curtains of Thranduil’s private chamber, lending the room a quiet warmth. The air was still, save for the occasional rustling of papers on his desk as the Elven King worked through the mountain of tasks that awaited him. His eyes, sharp and unwavering as ever, scanned over the documents laid before him. The endless duties of his kingdom—decisions regarding trade, diplomatic correspondence, matters of defense—all required his attention. His posture was regal, every inch the king, even as he worked through the mundane details of his rule. Thranduil sat at his desk with an air of command, his back straight, shoulders squared. His movements were graceful yet purposeful, as though even in the most private moments, he carried the weight of his crown. He wore a rich, deep green tunic embroidered with intricate silver threads, the soft fabric clinging to his frame with an elegance that was uniquely his. Over his shoulders, a dark, flowing cloak rested, embroidered with the patterns of Mirkwood, its edges catching the fading light of the day. His boots, polished and well-crafted, were placed firmly beneath the desk, his posture impeccable, as though no matter the task, he remained the sovereign of his realm. His long, platinum blonde hair fell in waves over his shoulders, the light catching the strands in a way that made them shimmer with ethereal beauty. Yet, in this private chamber, amidst the solitude of his duties, there was no grandeur in his bearing—just the weight of centuries and the burdens of his people. Even as he reviewed the kingdom’s affairs, there was something weighted in the quiet space between his breaths, something lingering beneath his carefully maintained exterior.

But as the quiet hum of the room settled around him, a sudden, sharp discomfort ran through Thranduil’s left cheek, pulling his focus from his duties. It began as a gentle throb, but it quickly escalated into something far worse—an all-consuming burn. The deep scars from the dragon fire, once hidden beneath layers of glamour magic, flared up violently, sending waves of heat crashing across his face. The fire-like sensation surged with an intensity that was both unbearable and all too familiar. Thranduil’s jaw clenched, his body stiffening for a brief moment. He did not let out a sound, but his eyes narrowed in quiet frustration. He could feel the searing pain radiating from the left side of his face, sharp and jagged like the burns that marred him. His left eye—the one that would never see clearly again—seemed to throb in unison with the scar, an ever-present reminder of the battle with the Fire Drakes.

His hand, almost instinctively, moved to touch the source of the pain. For a moment, he hesitated, a breath catching in his throat. The glamour magic that concealed the scar, the magic he had long relied on, was slipping. It was exhausting, maintaining the illusion. The energy needed to keep the glamour intact had become too much, and the pain, so familiar now, was forcing him to abandon it. He sighed softly and allowed the glamour to fade. For the first time in what felt like ages, the scar was exposed in its full, raw form. The jagged burn marks on his left cheek were a stark contrast to his fair skin, darkened and angry as if the fire still smoldered beneath his flesh. The once regal beauty of his face—unscathed and unmarred—was now forever marked by the cruel legacy of the dragon fire. He could not escape it, no matter how he tried.

His breathing quickened slightly, and a soft hiss escaped him as the heat in his face flared, the burn becoming unbearable. The pain was not new to him, but it always took him off guard in moments like these. Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control over his body, to quell the urge to grit his teeth and wince. The cool damp cloth on the table beside him seemed like a distant solution, but it was the only one he had. With trembling hands, Thranduil reached for it, his fingers brushing against the fabric, his breath shallow with the intensity of the flare-up. He dipped the cloth into the bowl of cool water, wringing it gently before lifting it to his face.

As the cloth touched his skin, a sharp, involuntary hiss escaped him. The coolness of the cloth made immediate contact with the burn, and while it provided a fleeting moment of relief, the sensation of cold against fire was jarring. His body jerked slightly as the heat clashed with the coolness, the sudden contrast both shocking and relieving. His skin seemed to scream for the comfort of the coolness, but it also rebelled against the harsh interruption. For a few moments, Thranduil remained still, eyes shut tight, the cloth pressed against his cheek. The momentary reprieve was all too brief, as the sensation of heat never fully receded. He could still feel the constant throb in his skin, the tender rawness that would never completely heal. His face, once a symbol of untarnished grace and regality, was now a reminder of battle’s price.

Thranduil let out a deep, controlled breath, trying to ground himself in the moment. He applied more pressure to the cloth, his fingers trembling with the subtle strain. It wasn’t enough to make the pain go away—it never was—but it was enough to bring a momentary distraction, enough to let him endure, if only for a while longer. His chest rose and fell with each measured breath, the rhythmic inhalation and exhalation the only thing that allowed him to focus on something other than the searing, never-ending pain. As he pulled the cloth away, a faint line of tension remained in his face. His left cheek, once again exposed, carried the marks of his past: the scarred skin, the fragile remains of a battle that had taken so much from him. Thranduil sat back, his gaze lingering on the reflection in the polished wood of the desk before him. For a moment, his features softened, though only the barest trace of vulnerability crossed his face. The silent struggle, the constant battle against pain, was something he could not escape—even in his private chambers, surrounded by the protection of his own walls.

Then, without another word, he reached for the goblet of Dorwinion wine resting at his side. The cool glass felt smooth in his hands as he lifted it to his lips, the dark crimson liquid swirling gently within. It was not just a drink; it was his comfort, his ritual. The potent warmth of the wine slid down his throat, bringing with it a small measure of ease. It was a companion to his scars—something that could dull the discomfort, something that could shield him from the weight of it all, even if just for a few fleeting moments. Thranduil placed the goblet of Dorwinion wine back down onto the polished wooden surface of his desk with deliberate care, his long fingers lingering on its stem for a moment. The dimming light of the evening caught the wine’s deep crimson hue, reflecting faintly in the goblet’s rippling surface. His sharp eyes, usually filled with regal authority, softened as they settled on the faint reflection cast back at him from the dark liquid.

The scar, revealed in his private sanctuary now that the exhausting glamour magic had been allowed to fade, marred the perfection of his otherwise flawless face. The jagged lines of burnt, twisted skin that snaked across the left side of his face seemed more pronounced in the distorted surface of the wine. His left eye, blind and clouded, stared back at him, a stark reminder of the dragon fire that had consumed so much—not just his flesh but his pride, his sense of invulnerability, and a piece of his spirit. His fingers clenched the edge of the desk, his breathing slow but measured as he held back the surge of emotion that always threatened to overwhelm him in moments like this. He had long mastered the art of burying his feelings, suppressing them beneath layers of cold detachment and indomitable authority. But here, alone, with no one to see and no one to judge, the weight of the scar pressed upon him. It burned not with physical pain now, though the flare-ups were frequent enough. Instead, it burned with memory—the memory of fire, of searing agony, of the bitter realization that even an elven king was not untouchable.

As he stared at his reflection, a flicker of doubt crossed his face, and his jaw tightened. He hated it. Hated the way it had stolen something from him. Not just his physical perfection but the sense of invincibility he had carried for so long. Thranduil was prideful—too prideful, perhaps—and his scar was an affront to everything he had worked to embody. It made him feel flawed, vulnerable, mortal. The thought of someone seeing him like this—seeing the imperfection, the weakness—tightened the knot in his chest. What would they see? A king who had fallen? A shadow of his former self? He feared that even those closest to him, those who claimed to care for him, might look at him differently if they truly saw him.

His eyes dropped to the wine again, the rippling surface blurring the lines of his reflection, obscuring the scar in fragmented waves. For a brief, irrational moment, he wished the wine could do the same for him in reality—erase the mark entirely, make him whole again, as if the fire had never touched him. But he knew better. The scar would always be there, beneath the glamour, beneath the layers of pride and stoicism. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes briefly, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to quell the ache that had settled behind his temples. His mind wandered to what the scar truly meant. It was a mark of failure, yes, but it was also a mark of survival. He had endured the fire. He had endured the pain. He had endured the shame of it all. And yet, the weight of it was no less heavy now than it had been centuries ago. A sigh escaped him, soft and low, barely audible in the quiet room. He straightened again, his gaze sharpening as he forced the emotions down once more. The scar would remain hidden, just as it always had, and no one would ever see it—not willingly. He could not bear the thought of revealing it, of sharing that piece of himself, even with someone he trusted. It was his burden, his pain, and his alone. The goblet hovered near Thranduil’s lips, the deep crimson wine catching the fading evening light as he took another slow sip. His eyes, distant and unfocused, remained fixed on the swirling liquid within, his thoughts drifting through the labyrinth of his insecurities. He was lost in a tide of memories—of fire and pain, of failure and survival—and so consumed by the weight of them that he didn’t notice the soft creak of the door opening, nor the quiet footsteps that followed.

You stepped into the room, your intention simply to see Thranduil, as you had not seen much of him throughout the day. It was not unusual for you, as his partner, to enter his chambers unannounced. Thranduil often became so immersed in the weight of his duties that he lost track of time, and you had made it a habit to check on him, to offer him solace in the quiet moments he rarely allowed himself. The chamber was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of the fading evening light streaming through the tall windows. Your steps were light, almost soundless, as you moved closer. At first, the sight of him seemed as familiar as ever—Thranduil seated at his desk, the very image of quiet authority. He sat with his back straight, his long platinum blonde hair cascading over his shoulders, his usual air of command emanating from his every movement. But there was something different now, something that made you slow your steps. His posture, while still upright, lacked its usual unyielding confidence. His shoulders seemed slightly tense, his head tilted downward as though weighed by unseen burdens.

It was a rare thing to see him like this. Here, in the privacy of his chambers, Thranduil allowed himself to shed the unrelenting mask of perfection he wore before others. But tonight, there was something more—a vulnerability in the way his fingers lingered at the goblet of wine, the faint lines of exhaustion that even the soft glow of the room couldn’t hide. As your eyes adjusted further to the low light, they fell to his face—his left side—and you froze mid-step. The glamour that he so carefully maintained, the magic that concealed his deepest insecurity, was gone. In its place was the raw, unguarded truth of the dragon fire’s mark. The scar you had never known existed marred his otherwise flawless features, jagged and stark against his pale skin. The burn lines crawled over his cheek and forehead, reaching dangerously close to his eye, the milky haze of blindness on that side painfully apparent. Your breath caught in your throat, not from revulsion, but from the sheer weight of the vulnerability before you. This was a side of Thranduil you had never seen—a side he had clearly worked tirelessly to conceal.

He didn’t notice you at first, still lost in his thoughts, the weight of his duties pressing down on him. But then, as you stepped forward, the soft sound of your movement broke the stillness of the room. The quiet gasp that escaped your lips caught Thranduil off guard, like a pebble disturbing the calm surface of a lake. His head snapped up in an instant, his sharp senses finally registering your presence. His body tensed at once, his fingers tightening around the goblet of Dorwinion wine so forcefully that the thin glass seemed on the verge of cracking. For a moment, he just stared at you, his piercing icy blue eye wide with shock and something deeper—fear. “Y/N—” His voice faltered, his calm and regal demeanor slipping for the first time. He straightened in his chair, almost instinctively, his hand moving to his left cheek, hovering over the scar as though it might disappear at his touch. His fingers lingered, unsure whether to hide or acknowledge the exposed imperfection. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone sharper than he intended, an edge of panic hidden beneath his words. The question wasn’t just an inquiry; it was a barrier, a defense.

You took a tentative step forward, your gaze flickering between his eyes and the scar that he so clearly wished to hide. “I—Thranduil, I didn’t mean to intrude,” you murmured softly, your voice a blend of surprise and gentle concern. “I… I just wanted to see you. I hadn’t seen much of you today, and I—” Before you could finish, his head turned away from you, his hand still placed over the left side of his face, as if to shield the scar from view. But it was too late; you had seen it. The defenses he had so carefully constructed, the barriers he had maintained for centuries, had been breached. The mark of dragon fire, the jagged scar that twisted across his skin, was now fully visible, its painful history and the vulnerability it carried laid bare.

“Leave.” The word was sharp, almost harsh, but the tremble in his voice betrayed the storm of emotion beneath. His face hardened, his features slipping into the cold mask he so often used to distance himself from others. But even that mask couldn’t fully hide the raw vulnerability in his eye, the way his hand lingered near his face, as if trying to erase what had already been exposed. “Thranduil…” you said softly, stepping closer despite his command. Your heart ached at the sight of him, at the pain etched not only into his skin but into his very being. “You don’t have to hide this from me.” You didn’t know what drove you to speak those words—perhaps it was the overwhelming tenderness you felt for him in that moment, or the fierce desire to show him that nothing would change how you saw him. “You’re not weak,” you added quietly, as if trying to reassure him, to lift the weight of his insecurities. But the distance between you both still lingered in the air, the tension thick. You could feel the internal battle raging within him, the fear of being truly seen, and yet the quiet ache of needing to be accepted just as he was.

His jaw tightened, his gaze flickering briefly to the reflection in the wine goblet before returning to you. The cold mask of composure slipped further from his face, leaving him vulnerable in ways he wasn’t accustomed to. “You know nothing of what I must do. Of what I must be,” he said, his voice quiet but laced with a tremor of something deeper—fear, pride, and a strain of something raw beneath it all. “This scar… It is not something I wish for you to see. It is not… who I am.” Your eyes softened, heart aching at the depth of his words. Gently, you shook your head, stepping closer. “But it is a part of you,” you whispered, your voice unwavering, full of love and compassion. “And it doesn’t make you any less of the king you are. Or the man I love.” For a long moment, he stood there, still, as though your words were a distant echo he couldn’t quite understand. His hand, still hovering over the scar, fell slowly away, and with it, the wall he had built around himself started to crumble. He exposed the mark fully, not with pride, but with a painful hesitation, his eyes on you—waiting for judgment, waiting for disappointment. But all he found in your gaze was compassion, unwavering and steady. It disarmed him in a way he hadn’t anticipated, a vulnerability he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge before. It unsettled him, how open you were with him, how unafraid you were of seeing him as he truly was. It was the opposite of everything he had feared.

“I…” His voice faltered, thick with emotion, words hanging on the edge of his tongue. His pride and his fear fought fiercely, pushing him to retreat, to build his walls once more. He wanted to hide, to erase what you now saw. But then, there was your gaze—gentle, understanding, patient—and it caused him to hesitate. He finally spoke, his voice quieter now, almost broken. “This scar… It is a reminder of my failure. Of the pain I endured. Of the fire that nearly consumed me.” He turned his face slightly, almost ashamed to meet your eyes, his voice heavy with the weight of that painful memory. “It is a weakness I cannot bear for you to see.” You stepped closer, reaching out with a tenderness that filled the space between you. Your hand settled gently over his, still resting on the desk, your touch warm and grounding. “Thranduil,” you murmured softly, your voice full of warmth and quiet strength. “It is not weakness. You survived. You endured. And if this scar is a reminder of anything, it’s of your strength. Not your failure.” You paused, your words softening with even more love. “It’s a battle scar, Thranduil. Everyone has them. And they are unique to each of us. They are part of our story, not our shame. Yours is no different.” At your words, he finally allowed himself to meet your eyes fully. For the first time, he felt seen—not just as a king, but as a man. The fear that had gripped him began to soften, the trembling edges of his pride faltering in the face of your unwavering acceptance. The walls he had spent centuries building, the barriers he had so carefully maintained to protect his heart, began to crack. And in the place of the fear, he found something else—something warm and soft, as though the faintest glimmer of hope was beginning to take root in the cracks of his soul. Your touch, your words, your gaze—they were all he needed. In that moment, with everything laid bare, the deepest parts of him, the parts he had long buried, slowly began to heal.

You drew in a breath, letting the moment settle between you, your voice barely a whisper but full of the weight of your love. “And I love you, Thranduil,” you added, your words steady and unwavering, “beyond what you look like, beyond what scars you carry, beyond the image you’ve carefully crafted. I love you for who you are, for your heart, your strength, your mind, and the kindness you don’t often show.” His heart clenched at your words, emotions swirling in him as the walls finally cracked enough for him to let them in. He wasn’t sure how to process this new vulnerability, this tenderness from you. But in that moment, he realized something: he didn’t have to hide from you. Not anymore.

“Do you mean that?” Thranduil’s voice was soft, almost fragile, as if testing your words, unsure if he could truly believe them. His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt, of a lie—but all he found was sincerity but now softened by a trace of vulnerability he rarely showed anyone. You nodded gently, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand in a soothing motion. “Every word,” you said, your voice steady, full of warmth and certainty. “You don’t have to hide from me, Thranduil. Not this, not anything. I see you—the real you—and I love you all the same.” For a long moment, he remained silent, his gaze never leaving yours. The weight of your words seemed to hang in the air, filling the space between you. His chest rose and fell slowly, his shoulders tense, yet with every breath, you could see a subtle release—a softening of the guard he had held so tightly for centuries. Finally, with a quiet exhale, he leaned back in his chair, his body relaxing ever so slightly. The scar was still there, as was the pain that came with it, but something had shifted in him. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, he didn’t have to carry it alone.

You smiled softly, feeling the tiniest flicker of relief in his posture. To reassure him, you took a step closer Before he could gather his thoughts, you gently cupped his face, your thumb brushing over the sharp curve of his jaw, as though trying to memorize the feel of him—every part of him. And then, with a quiet tenderness, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering just a moment before pulling away slightly. His eyes fluttered closed, a soft breath escaping him, as though the simplest of gestures had undone something deep within him. You continued your gentle assault of his face with tender kisses, one by one. A light kiss on his cheek, his nose, his chin, each kiss filled with tenderness, each one a reaffirmation of your words. The slight scent of his skin grounding you as your lips traveled to the corner of his mouth. Each kiss was a promise, a reminder that you didn’t care about the scars—inside or out.

As you kissed along his jawline, you paused for a brief moment, your lips hovering above the scar. You were careful, mindful of any pain it might cause him, but you felt the need to show him that it didn’t matter. That the scar didn’t change how you saw him. Slowly, you brushed your lips against the scar’s edge, your kiss soft and reverent, as if you were honoring the pain and strength that it represented. Thranduil’s breath hitched slightly, and you noticed his pointy elf ears turning a deeper shade of red, flushed with a mix of embarrassment and something else—a quiet, unfamiliar vulnerability that stirred in his chest. His usual composed exterior was beginning to crack under your gentle affection, and it was clear he didn’t quite know how to handle it. You loved him, and you loved him fully, with every inch of his being as You smiled up at him, your eyes warm with love. “You’re beautiful, Thranduil,” you whispered, pressing one last, lingering kiss on his scar. “Inside and out.” your voice soft but filled with adoration. A soft flush spread across his face, and for the first time, you saw the true depth of his discomfort—not from your touch, but from the way he was letting you in. His vulnerability, his scar, it all seemed to unnerve him more than he cared to admit. But despite the unease, you saw something else in him too: acceptance. A slowly dawning realization that, perhaps, he could be seen—completely, imperfections and all—and still be loved. After a beat, you pulled back slightly, your lips curling into a playful smile. “You know,” you teased, voice light, “I think it’s kind of sexy.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened slightly, a look of surprise crossing his features, before his lips curled up into the faintest of smirks. His pointy elven ear tips flushed a deeper shade of red, and he leaned in slightly, as if caught off guard by your flirtation. “Sexy, hmm?” he replied, his voice low and teasing, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “You’re an unpredictable one, Y/N.” You laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, you are a king, and now I know you’re even more… intriguing than I thought.” Thranduil, still a little flushed but clearly more at ease than before, relaxed further in his chair. The weight of his insecurities, though not gone completely, felt lighter. It was clear that, in this moment, you had done something for him he had not allowed anyone to do in centuries—he was seen, truly seen, and still loved. And that, perhaps, was more than he had ever hoped for.

Thranduil’s gaze flickered to yours, the familiar spark of his regal pride returning as he raised an eyebrow. He almost smirked, but there was something deeper in his eyes now—something more vulnerable, more real. “Is that so?” he asked, his tone light but laced with a hint of amusement. You grinned, leaning in to kiss his cheek once more, this time lingering for a moment longer. “Very much so,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his skin in the softest caress. “But more than that, it’s your strength. You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever known, and nothing could change that.” For a fleeting moment, Thranduil allowed himself to fully appreciate the weight of your words. Though he remained guarded, the walls he had built began to feel less necessary, less suffocating. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to be perfect to be loved. As your words lingered in the air, his cheeks flushed, a faint, almost imperceptible warmth spreading over his skin. His usually proud and composed demeanor faltered for a moment, the tips of his pointed elven ears turning the softest shade of red. The king of Mirkwood, a creature known for his unshakable poise, now stood before you, his pride vulnerable in the gentlest way. He let out a quiet breath, a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, a smile he rarely showed, but one that made him seem almost… human.

“I… did not expect that,” he murmured, his voice softer now, betraying a vulnerability that had been locked away for centuries. There was a quiet reverence in his expression as he looked at you, the raw honesty in his eyes making him appear more open than he had ever been before. Your heart swelled at the sight of him, knowing you had reached him in a way no one else had. With a soft chuckle, you pressed one final kiss to his cheek. “Well, I think you’re the one who’s full of surprises, my king.” Thranduil’s smile widened, a rare but genuine smile, and the warmth in his eyes lingered, a silent promise that, for the first time, he was letting someone see him fully—and that was enough for him to let go of the walls he had built so high. “Thank you, my starlight,” he whispered, his voice gentle but filled with sincerity. He reached out, his hand brushing softly against your cheek before his fingers traced the line of your jaw with a tender grace. His touch was warm, grounding, as if trying to silently convey just how much you meant to him in that moment. His gaze held yours, filled with both gratitude and something deeper—something more tender.

You smiled, the warmth in your chest growing, and without a word, you let your body respond to his quiet request. Thranduil shifted slightly in his chair, and with a subtle motion, he guided you into his arms. He didn’t speak it, but his eyes and gentle touch made it clear—he wanted to feel your presence close, to have your warmth as a source of comfort and solace after the weight of what he had shared. As you shifted, moving to straddle him, you saw his posture relax even more, as if your closeness was the balm he needed for the rawness he had just exposed. He let out a quiet sigh of relief, the tension melting from his shoulders as you settled against him, your body fitting into his with a natural ease. His hands gently cradled your back, pulling you closer, his touch more tender than commanding, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the calmness you provided.

For a long moment, the world outside of the two of you faded, and Thranduil simply held you, the king of Mirkwood becoming something more human in your arms. There was no need for words now—only the comforting rhythm of your breathing and the silent understanding between you both. You didn’t say anything. You simply let him feel the love and warmth he had so carefully hidden away, offering him the solace he needed without judgment, without question. And as he held you closer, Thranduil allowed himself to melt into the comfort of your embrace, a quiet whisper escaping his lips, “I never want to let go of this.”

[bisexualcherdegre]

D:BH Rarepairsweek 7 | @dbhrarepairs

Day 4 - Kara/Luther

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

I am exhausted, good heavens.

[lilworms]

so

[em-b-sides]

I think about that tiktok trend where you like paint your partners eye color on your nails or make a bracelet or something with the color a lot actually

[ourceliumnetwork]

apparently we're not out of the woods on holiday trauma responses just yet - i'm hoping we're on the tail end of it but like. good lord.

[thenwethrowitonthefire]

Shout-out to everyone who survived a "fun" easter with the family

[readymades2002]

sorry i'll delete this later if i remember but i need to complain about a post i saw (SORRY). post about "if a retail worker took a desk job for a day everything would probably be fine and if a desk worker was in retail for a day they'd break down" and the notes are predictably full of people working desk jobs going THAT is NOT true this is STILL labor this is STILL work there is NO unskilled labor how could you throw your fellow workers under the bus like this

which, whatever, i think applying "no such thing as unskilled labor" to that situation when unskilled labor is usually taken to mean menial physical labor and not desk work is tacky but whatever. but also how the fuckkkkkk are you getting desk jobs 😭 seeing people go "you forget many desk workers DID their time in customer-facing work and took a desk job to get away from it" as if "getting away from it" is that easy!!! drives me up the fucking wall!!! whatever

[thecryptoid]

i haven't had a single drop of alcohol in ten days. i'm also eating a fuckton of veggies and fruits and greens. pat me right on my head because i'm fucking. KILLING IT

[theultracharmingladynoire]

I am just so tired of everything but I can't do anything about it

[l0rd-0f-c0ws]

I frequently feel completely isolated no matter how much I talk to people. So that's fun

[eastofedean]

8i've been thinking about the last asks i got today. and i think it's better for me to take a step back from this account. i know the anon didn't mean anything by it, but i still feel like i am being a negative presence on here and weirding people out with who i am is nothing i want. so, i am not deleting or anything. i am just gonna be less present with sharing personal things or leaving tags. I'll probably be more active on my second account where i don't have that many followers :)

[afniel]

Every morning my brain spins a little wheel and picks what's going up be fucked up that day. Usually it's my pain perception or energy level, sometimes it's my mood, sometimes it's my sense of balance and I could do without that, but VERY OCCASIONALLY it will Mad Lib slap together, "TODAY'S BROKEN THING: your (noun:[ability]) (verb:[to sense that]) (object:[you are disabled])," and today is one of those days. I feel fucking good? I slept well? I jogged big sections of the way to lunch because I could? My legs didn't cramp up? I'm in a super good mood?

This happens so rarely that I actually register it as a problem and go through the day thinking, oh no have I finally developed bipolar, is this mania, and it's like, no, dipshit! It's functioning. Of course it feels good and you feel good about it. There's nothing wrong with having nothing wrong with me for a moment. You really don't understand how disability changes you until you're wondering if your temporary relief is a mental illness...

But enough of that, I'm having a good day and I hope everyone else is too, and if you aren't, I hope you'll have one very soon. 💜 ✌️

[paging-possum]

Who up listening to good luck babe by chappell roan and having it resonate not in the way intended but resonating nonetheless. About to go ham in the tags about the overlap of being a lesbian and being aromantic...if u even care....

[katyobsesses]

i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking tired i'm so fucking