INFJ-T Just a college dropout who finds solace and peace in writing stories, poems and roleplaying. Big Marvel fan and DC fan, Anime Weeb, Manga/Manhwa Reader, and Animal Lover.
Lost in the depths of Mirkwood, Aurora Silvana-a wandering mortal with fragmented memories of another life-finds herself entangled in the path of the enigmatic Elvenking, Thranduil. Cold and distant, he dismisses her as fleeting, a mere whisper against the weight of centuries. And yet, despite his efforts to push her away, she lingers, unraveling the carefully guarded solitude he has cultivated for millennia.
As their paths intertwine, a fragile companionship forms-one built on unspoken words, stolen glances, and the inevitable truth that she will fade long before he does. But when danger descends upon the Woodland Realm, Thranduil is forced to confront what he has long denied: that the mortal he sought to forget may be the one thing he cannot bear to lose.
In a world where time is unforgiving and fate unyielding, can love exist between one who will vanish and one who will endure? Or are they doomed to remain nothing more than echoes in each other's memories?
The plot and original characters in this work belong to the author. Any elements derived from The Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate. This work is a creative exploration and is not intended for commercial use.
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄
ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔒𝔫𝔢
The night was cold and silent as Thranduil roamed Mirkwood, the silver glow of the moon casting faint light upon the dense canopy. He moved with the effortless grace of one who had long mastered the art of solitude, his presence a whisper against the ancient woods.
Yet, more often than reason dictated, his silent steps would lead him to her. Aurora. The girl whose presence lingered at the fringes of his awareness like an unbidden echo. Whether by chance or something far less explicable, she was always there.
He listened to her words with a detached poise, his expression unreadable as she spoke of memories and musings, of past lives and fleeting dreams. When he deigned to reply, his words were few, measured, each syllable precise. And though she never pressed, he sensed her quiet attentiveness, a patience he had not expected. Laughter did not belong to him, but in the hush of the woods, her voice wove something delicate between them—a tether unspoken yet felt.
Where mortals clung to connection, Thranduil recoiled. Emotion was a burden, a disruption in the eternal stillness he had cultivated over centuries. And yet, against his own reasoning, she unsettled the edges of that solitude, her presence a whisper against the silence he had long embraced.
Aurora had fashioned a meager shelter within the trees, a fragile construct against the vastness of his realm. It was an extension of herself—transient, vulnerable. And still, he found himself drawn to its presence, his steps betraying him in the quiet of the night.
From the concealment of the shadows, Thranduil watched. Bathed in moonlight, she was still and unguarded, an ephemeral existence within the permanence of his world. He lingered, unmoving, the weight of uncertainty pressing upon him.
Then, as if compelled by something beyond himself, he stepped forward, his approach soundless yet undeniable.
Aurora carefully descended from her tree, landing with effortless grace. She straightened, her gaze bright as she addressed him.
"Thranduil," she greeted, her voice warm, a stark contrast to the cool stillness of the night.
Thranduil did not immediately respond. His gaze, sharp and unreadable, swept over her form with the precision of one accustomed to measuring the worth of those before him. His expression remained composed, distant, yet there was something in the way he studied her—an acknowledgment of her presence, though detached.
"You seem… eager tonight," he remarked at last, his voice smooth, yet devoid of indulgence.
Aurora's smile faltered for half a breath before she let out a light huff, placing her hands on her hips. "You never call me by my name," she mused, feigning irritation. "Why is that?"
A faint lift of his brow was the only indication that he had heard her. "Names are fleeting, insignificant things," he said coolly. "What I call you is of no consequence."
She pouted slightly, but there was no true weight to her discontent. "How were your kingly duties?" she asked instead, her tone light, but laced with genuine curiosity.
"Necessary," he answered, his words clipped. "Tiresome as ever."
She giggled, undeterred by his aloofness. "Then I know just the cure!"
Before he could respond, she took his hand—an audacious act—and spun herself with playful energy. A lesser man might have been startled, but Thranduil remained still, his gaze lowering to where her fingers had so boldly claimed his own. There was no anger in his eyes, nor mirth, only the weight of centuries, of distances that could not be so easily bridged.
"Do you make a habit of touching those who have not invited it?" he asked, voice quiet, yet unyielding.
Aurora hesitated, her enthusiasm dimming just slightly under the weight of his words. But then, she smiled again, softer this time. "No," she admitted, her fingers slipping away. "Only those who need it the most."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy and unreadable. Then, Thranduil turned away, his expression once more a mask of detached regality.
"Foolish," he murmured, yet there was no true chastisement in his tone. Only something distant, something unreadable. "Come, then. You insist on lightness in a world that knows only shadow. Show me, little woman, what cure you believe you possess."
And for reasons unknown even to himself, he let her try.
Aurora's laughter rang through the clearing, light and unburdened. "Come, dance with me!" she urged, reaching for his hand, her excitement unrestrained.
Thranduil did not move. He regarded her with cool detachment, his crystalline gaze unreadable. "Dance?" he echoed, as though the word itself was foreign to him. "I do not dance for amusement."
Undeterred, she grasped his hand, attempting to pull him into a twirl, but he remained as unmoving as the ancient trees around them. The faintest flicker of amusement ghosted across his features before vanishing into the composed mask he wore so well.
"I thought elves were graceful dancers," she teased, her voice lilting with mischief.
His expression remained impassive, though his gaze flickered over her with a trace of indulgence. "Elves are graceful in all things," he murmured. "But we do not waste our steps on meaningless motion."
She stepped back, tilting her head as though assessing him. "Then teach me something meaningful."
Lost in the depths of Mirkwood, Aurora Silvana-a wandering mortal with fragmented memories of another life-finds herself entangled in the path of the enigmatic Elvenking, Thranduil. Cold and distant, he dismisses her as fleeting, a mere whisper against the weight of centuries. And yet, despite his efforts to push her away, she lingers, unraveling the carefully guarded solitude he has cultivated for millennia.
As their paths intertwine, a fragile companionship forms-one built on unspoken words, stolen glances, and the inevitable truth that she will fade long before he does. But when danger descends upon the Woodland Realm, Thranduil is forced to confront what he has long denied: that the mortal he sought to forget may be the one thing he cannot bear to lose.
In a world where time is unforgiving and fate unyielding, can love exist between one who will vanish and one who will endure? Or are they doomed to remain nothing more than echoes in each other's memories?
The plot and original characters in this work belong to the author. Any elements derived from The Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate. This work is a creative exploration and is not intended for commercial use.
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄
𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢
The night was cold and dark as Thranduil roamed the forest of Mirkwood atop his elk. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the icy breeze caress his face. A rare moment of peace. But then, another set of footsteps disrupted the stillness.
His eyes snapped open, hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. He scanned his surroundings, voice smooth yet commanding. "Whoever is there, reveal yourself at once."
A sharp crack echoed as a young woman tumbled from the branches, ensnared in a tangle of vines. Dangling upside down before him, her chocolate-brown hair spilled in messy waves, hazel eyes wide with surprise. Her freckled, tan skin flushed with embarrassment. Petite and short, she swayed slightly before managing an awkward, "Uh… um… Greetings, Elven King of this Woodland."
Thranduil regarded her with cold detachment, his expression unreadable. The flicker of amusement that stirred within him did not reach his gaze. "An undignified entrance," he mused, his voice distant, almost mirthless. "I was not aware that men had taken to dropping from trees as a means of greeting."
"I… uh, forgive my unsightliness?" she stammered, swaying in the air. "I'm glad the mere sight of me does not offend you." She sighed in relief, her tension easing as she felt the vines shift.
His piercing blue eyes lingered on her for a moment before he spoke again. "Your presence in my realm is what concerns me."
She struggled against the vines. "Ah, well, you see… I was fleeing—from a pack of wolves." Reaching up, she grunted. "I thought perhaps climbing a tree and staying put until morning would be a good idea."
She twisted, trying to free herself, only to slip and crash to the ground with a heavy thud. A soft groan escaped her lips as she lay there, momentarily defeated.
Thranduil remained still, regarding her with detached curiosity. "Men," he muttered, shaking his head. "So fragile, so reckless."
Dismounting his elk with effortless grace, he strode toward her, his gaze still unreadable.
She scrambled to her feet, dusting herself off. "I never intended to cause any disturbance, let alone trespass in your realm. But given the circumstances, I had no choice."
The Elven King studied her, his silence weighted and penetrating. "You are alone. That much is clear. But why? No man, even a reckless one, would dare travel these woods without purpose."
Lowering her head in a respectful bow, she muttered, "Aurora Silvana, from a village near the Wilderlands."
"I am traveling alone," she admitted, her voice quieter now.
His gaze sharpened. "Alone?" He studied her closely. "No family? No companions?"
She hesitated before whispering, "I have no one."
For a fleeting moment, something flickered in his gaze, but it was gone before she could place it. "That is not my concern, you are little more than a ghost upon this land."
Aurora lifted her head then, and for the first time, Thranduil caught the quiet conviction in her eyes. "Perhaps. But even ghosts are reborn."
Thranduil's brow arched slightly. "You believe in rebirth?"
She nodded, meeting his gaze. "I know it to be true," she murmured. "For I remember."
Thranduil's expression remained cold, though there was a subtle shift in his posture. "I have lived long enough to know that mortals often believe in things that cannot be proven."
"I am not asking you to believe me," she said quietly. "But I know what I have seen."
A moment of silence stretched between them, the forest itself seeming to hush in response to her words.
Then Thranduil exhaled softly. "The minds of mortals are fragile things. Prone to weaving tales to soothe their insignificance."
He observed her in silence, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke. "Believe what you wish. It changes nothing. You are still a man, and you are still in my forest."
She straightened her posture, swallowing hard. "Perhaps we mortals understand something even the immortal fail to see."
Something in her voice struck a chord, but Thranduil's face remained impassive. "If you wish to waste your days seeking proof of ghosts, do so beyond my borders."
Her gaze dropped. "I understand."
A moment of silence stretched between them before she hesitantly asked, "Would you grant me the honor of being my companion, Elven King?"
Thranduil narrowed his eyes, studying her closely. "A foolish request," he murmured. "My company is not so easily given."
Aurora's expression faltered slightly before she bowed her head. "Of course, my lord. I will not trouble you further."
And yet, for reasons he could not explain, he did not immediately reject her.
He turned away. "You may remain for now," he said, his voice cool and detached. "But do not expect kindness from me."
A soft smile ghosted her lips. "Then I shall not expect anything at all."
He glanced at her once more, his piercing gaze lingering before he strode back to his elk. Without another word, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving her standing alone beneath the trees.
HOBBIES: Reading Novels, manga/manhwa/webtoon, watching anime, writing, cooking, baking, arts and crafts, watching anything marvel or DC related films or series, and sleeping..a lot.
Introvert among Extroverts, Extrovert among Introverts.
Hello! I am Meiek. If you’re reading this, then that’s good. I’m glad you want to get to know me. I like writing stories and fantasizing about them in my head, playing them in my head like a movie. I have a wild imagination. I also have 6 years of experience in roleplay. I mostly go on Discord or X since I don’t receive Amino notifications.
RULES
1. Please be semi-lit to novella if you're going to roleplay with me.
2. Please use "" for speech and '' for thoughts.
3. Please do not ghost me. If you are unable to continue due to discomfort or loss of interest, then tell me. Also, if you’re going to be gone or busy for a while, inform me.
4. Please don’t be afraid to inform me if you feel uncomfortable anytime throughout our roleplay. You can tell me your triggers, and I will tell you mine. I expect that you treat me with the same respect.
5. Please do not control my character and no Mary Sue or OP characters.
6. Please be respectful during out-of-character conversations.
7. Please give me at least the basic introduction or description of your character.
PREFERENCES
PAIRINGS: B×B, B×G, Cabon×Oc, Oc×Oc
LITERACY: Semi-lit to novella. My literacy depends on your response and the plot.
GENRES: Fantasy/modern fantasy, medieval fantasy, sci-fi, drama, adventure, romance, slice of life, and supernatural.
ROLEPLAY STYLE: During roleplays, I add extra characters to make things more interesting and sometimes request time skips to skip boring parts.
OUTRO
Well, that’s all. Thank you for reading! I appreciate it if you follow my rules before roleplaying with me. I’m sure they’re not too hard to follow. PM me if you’re interested in roleplaying with me.
FANDOMS:
✦ MCU - Avengers, X-men, Venom, Spiderman, Morbius, Deadpool, Doctor Strange, Black Panther, Punisher, Daredevil...and more.
✦ DCU - Young Justice, Justice League and Teen Titans, The Flash, Batman, Gotham, Green Arrow, DC's Legends of Tomorrow...and more.
✦ ANIME - Naruto, MHA, Assassination Classroom, Jujutsu Kaisen, That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Sugar Apple Fairy Tale, One Piece...and more.
✦ MANGA/MANHWA - Who Made Me a Princess, Solo Leveling, Return Survival, Mercenary Enrollment, God of Blackfield, The First Hunter, The Beginning After the End, Lookism, NPCs Can Save The World Too, Lucent, The Book Of Lagier, Lout Of Count's Family...and more.
"You should lock your windows," he noted, tilting his chin upward to expose a cut along his jawline. He allowed you to treat his injury, although it was clear that he was frustrated with the entire situation. "Someone could break in," he grumbled as he attempted to distract himself from his own hypocrisy.
In response, you rolled your eyes. "We're on the fourth floor. Who the hell would break in through the window?" You replied, and though you didn't expect a response, your soft tone and actions did hint to him that you didn't mind having him around.
A few moments later, a sudden realization struck Bruce. "Why do you help me?" he then asked, unsure of what answer you'd offer. He held a glimmer of hope that your response would involve some form of gratitude or repayment.
You were silent for a moment before responding. "Do I even have to answer that?" You asked, clearly not interested in divulging your reasoning. Still, you remained calm as you continued to treat Bruce's injuries. You understood that your answer would not make a difference to Bruce's curiosity, but it was still frustrating to face such questions when you just wanted to help.
"No," he replied, still feeling uncertain about your intentions. He couldn't help but notice your touch as you caressed his skin, and the gentle pattern your thumb traced on his fingertips. He wondered what kind of emotions you felt at this moment, but didn't ask, not wanting to push you away.
"But I'd like you to anyways," he added, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer. Your response surprised him, as he didn't expect that kind of kindness from anyone else. "Your help is appreciated, Batman," you said softly, "You help Gotham every night and no one's ever reached out to help you. If you keep acting like this, I might get the wrong idea." Your soft voice sent a chill down Bruce's spine, and he couldn't help but wonder what you were thinking.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to Bruce, and he couldn't help but wonder if you were attracted to him. He tilted his head, studying the floor for any indications of emotion in your expression before meeting your gaze again. "Do you want me to be interested?" he asked, curious to know your thoughts on the idea.
Bruce was still unsure of your intentions, but he couldn't deny the way he felt when you were taking care of his injured body. He studied your expression, trying to gauge your emotions and figure out what you really felt. As you averted your gaze, he felt a pang of disappointment but he also understood the dangers of getting too involved.
"Do you want me to be interested?" he repeated, and this time his curiosity got the better of him. "Or do you just not like men?" he asked bluntly, hoping for a quick and straightforward answer. He didn't want to be left guessing any longer, and he wanted to know if your intentions were genuine or if this was just a game to you.
To his surprise, you replied quickly, but it didn't really clear anything up. Instead, you explained that you couldn't be with him even if you wanted to, and referenced the dangers that came with being involved with someone like Bruce. He felt a twinge of disappointment, but he understood your perspective.
"The dangers never really mattered to me," he said, his voice soft and vulnerable. It was a lie, but he couldn't help but feel hopeful at the thought of being with you. "And as for you, I could protect you from anything," he added, feeling a sense of responsibility for your safety. This time, when he looked at you, his gaze was full of sincerity, and he hoped that you would understand his feelings for you.
Bruce felt a flicker of hope die inside him as you rejected his advance and reminded him of the dangers that would come with being together. It felt like a part of him was breaking apart, and he didn't want to believe that what you said was true. But there was a glimmer of hope in his heart, something that told him that maybe, just maybe, it would all work out.
"You don't know that.. you're only human Batman. You can't save everyone. And what if a time comes that you have to choose between a billion lives over mine?" you said softly, and he felt as though you were tearing at his heartstrings. He knew that what you were saying was true, but he couldn't help but think that there was a slim chance that everything could work out.
But when you said "It's impossible," he felt his will to fight vanish. The reality of the situation suddenly hit him, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of despair. And when you spoke again, he didn't argue or push back. Instead, he said something that he couldn't even believe.
"You're right," Bruce said softly, his voice filled with resignation. It was as if all of his emotions were spilling out of him at once, and he felt like he was collapsing on the inside. "It doesn't matter. Let's just... let's forget this ever happened."
The words felt like they struck him like a physical blow, and it was all he could do to remain standing. His heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest, and he struggled to prevent himself from reaching out and pulling you back. He knew that you were right, that this was all impossible, but the thought of losing you, just like that, was more than he could handle.
"I'll see myself out," he muttered, his voice hollow and devoid of emotion. He moved towards the window, feeling like he was walking to his own execution.
"Okay... Be careful... please," you whispered softly as Bruce moved towards the window. You watched as Bruce jumped out, feeling a mixture of sadness and regret. You knew that you had just lost the one person who truly understood you, but there was nothing you could do to change that.
As you watched Bruce fall out of sight, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for the both of you.
"Long after the physical scars have healed, the lingering trauma and emotional wounds remain, forever changing who you are and how you interact with the world." - K.M
“My anxiety is silent. You wouldn’t even notice a change on the outside but I’m honestly so stressed I can’t even manage simple tasks. People call me lazy when in reality I’m just overwhelmed.”
“Highly sensitive people are too often perceived as weaklings or damaged goods. To feel intensely is not a symptom of weakness, it is the trademark of the truly alive and compassionate. It is not the empath who is broken, it is society that has become dysfunctional and emotionally disabled. There is no shame in expressing your authentic feelings. Those who are at times described as being a ‘hot mess’ or having 'too many issues’ are the very fabric of what keeps the dream alive for a more caring, humane world. Never be ashamed to let your tears shine a light in this world.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks endlessly as the pain in her heart, a crushing feeling, intensified. "Why?" She whispered hoarsely as she slowly looked up at them. They merely stared at her with disgust and disinterest, unfazed by the brokenness she displayed.
"Was there even a moment, just for a fleeting second, that everything you've all done for me was true? Or was it all a lie?" she cried out desperately.
"You had your uses, but you're annoying," replied one of them.
"I thought... we were friends," she sobbed out.
"Not for a second," another replied coldly. The harsh truth pierced her heart, leaving her shattered and betrayed.
Tears welled up in her eyes as the harsh reality sank in. The people she had trusted, the ones she believed would protect and support her, had turned out to be her tormentors. The pain in her heart was suffocating, and the cruel words they uttered made her feel more alone than ever.
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
janainaart
snowghoul
germansingergirl
jacobvanloon
