#king thranduil

[groffiction]

Sassy Thranduil Friday Meme

Thanks to a friend of mine on Discord for the idea lmao. Enjoy the sassy meme!

[jo-marvel-grimm]

[theforbidfruit]

My Three Weaknesses

I think I have a type

[jo-marvel-grimm]

[jo-marvel-grimm]

[sayzie]

thranduil provokes such intense feelings in me that i be acting like a medieval peasant and questioning my sanity 🙃

i take one look at him and he’s just so unbelievably majestic, i am left awestruck. i now know how gimli felt, he is my galadriel! i have witnessed true beauty and he has earned my eternal devotion!

it’s been 10 years and the feelings have not abated once. peasant thoughts be roiling around my mind, someone so tall and extraordinarily attractive is clearly blessed and therefore must be king. i don’t have to know a single thing else about his personality or tax policies; monarchies are good actually so long as it’s him in charge.

LOOK AT HIM! if that man tells me to go to war, i am going to war. idfc

the last elvenking in middle earth! 3000 years he held that shit down! and without any cursed jewellery to boot. i will not abide any slander against his person, he is perfect! fight me!

okay enough of this before i start fitting. remember this guy ⬇️ yeah well me when it comes to thranduil.

[elvenreign]

The Elvenking

Name: Thranduil Oropherion

Born: First Age, Doriath

Occupation: Prince and future King of the Woodland Realm

Age: 7000+ in the 3rd age.

MASTERLIST (will link when it’s established)

Who is Thranduil?

Thranduil Oropherion is the proud, sharp-minded son of King Oropher and heir to Greenwood, born into the ancient grief and grandeur of the Sindar. Raised in the shadow of Doriath’s ruin and shaped by his father’s fierce independence, Thranduil grows into a prince who carries beauty, arrogance, wit, and deep emotional loyalty in equal measure. He is elegant and commanding, but beneath the polished royal mask is a son desperate to protect his family, his people, and the last pieces of the world he once knew.

As a young prince, Thranduil is mischievous, observant, and emotionally bound to his father, often hiding his fears behind dry humour and princely pride. He is wary of the Noldor, distrustful of outside powers, and deeply protective of the Silvan realm his family helps build in Greenwood. Over time, war, loss, and kingship harden him into a colder, more strategic ruler, but never erase the tenderness beneath him. Thranduil is a survivor of fallen kingdoms; a king made not only by bloodline, but by grief, endurance, and the burden of remembering.

Rules of interaction;

- Thranduil rp blog

- 🔞 Minors DNI, interacting is a statement of age.

- SFW/NSFW content will be posted.

- You send unnecessary hate, you will be cut off.

- Asks, submissions, and DM’s are open to character and non-character blogs.

- Crossover, OC, AU, Multiverse.

- Explicit rp, highly selective.

Tag Directory;

#elvenking_lore - world building my Thranduil

#elvenking_headcanons - my personal headcanons

#elvenking_writings - my rp / one-shots / drabbles

#elvenking_edits - graphic edits / gifs / videos

[anotheronebitesthedeaky]

The argument had begun like so many others: sharp as frost, ringing through the hall with the sound of clashing certainties. Legolas stood straight and bright-eyed, his words quick, his hands clenched at his sides. Thranduil answered him in the measured cadence of a king who had learned that authority could be as cutting as any blade. Their voices rose and crossed, neither yielding, each certain the other refused to see what was plain as starlight.

Then Thranduil spoke her name.

It was not loud. It was not cruel. That was what made it worse.

Legolas felt it at once—as if the air had been drawn from the room, leaving his lungs empty and aching. The words he had been about to say fell away, meaningless. His anger collapsed in on itself, turning sharp and inward, and for a moment he could only stand there, struck through with a pain so familiar he hated how quickly it found him.

His mother was not a weapon, and yet her absence had always been one.

Thranduil’s gaze faltered, just for an instant, as though he, too, had heard something break. But the damage was done. Legolas could not argue now; there was no breath left for it. His heart hurt in that quiet, echoing way that came when memory outweighed the present—when love, long bereft, rose up and demanded to be felt.

He lowered his eyes, not in defeat, but in self-defense. The hall seemed suddenly too large, too hollow, and the space where his mother should have been stretched wide between father and son. When he finally turned away, it was without a word, leaving the argument unfinished and the grief—old, aching, and unhealed—standing between them like a silence neither knew how to cross.

(Btw, I am on a03 and I plan on posting a chapter of a legolas fic at some point tomorrow which has this passage in it. If anyone comes across it, it's not stolen, it's me. I promise.)