#crown cheering

[kalofi]

peak fiction

[justaz]

merlin standing to the side watching arthur address camelot, the sun shining on his skin and lighting his hair up as its own crown despite the actual gold resting atop his head, his red cap billowing behind him by the light breeze, his eyes shining with joy, merlin’s freedom spelled across his lips. merlin watching arthur be drowned out by enthusiastic cheers so he laughs and recedes back inside toward merlin, head held high and shoulders squared back, looking even better than the king merlin has shaped him into. merlin falling impossibly deeper into love as arthur returns to his side with a grin after repealing the magic ban

[littlesliceofimmortality]

ID under cut

[ID: A three panel comic of Milton and Callum from Dialtown, black and white except for an orange border and highlights. In the first, Callum is at a desk, with multiple speech bubbles surrounding him as he yaps on, with one on top saying "OH! AND BEFORE I FORGET," as he holds up a finger to get Milt's attention.] [The second panel shows Callum standing up and grabbing Milton's tie, yanking him down to kiss him. MWAH is written in text next to the action as Milt looks flustered.] [The third has Milt straightening up, furrowing his brow while still just as flustered, a blush scribbled across his face. Callum waves him off, saying, "PASS THAT OFF TO MARLA, WOULD YOU?" as he sits back down.]

[darkfictionjude]

Crowny acting as the exorcist child is peak ficticion Jude

Hey they apparently do if you ask your everyday croun townie

[tjerra14]

great news everyone, the floating Grazer LIVES

[gayjaytodd]

INTRODUCING THEIR MAJESTIES KING FREDERIK X AND QUEEN CONSORT MARY OF DENMARK 🇩🇰 👑

[fancifulflora]

(SFW) been wanting to cry for some angsty stuff for ATOC, can I request a hc list of how would X, D, R and A react when the Crown is fatally injured, possibly shot by an arrow or stabbed?

Maybe an extra rrq that the Crown is a gentle, cinnamon roll type, that overly kind soul you'd want the least to get hurt but yeah now they're dying

The editor for this tumblr ask literally crashed when i was almost done with X's entry and I've never felt more devastated in my entire life ksahkj. There is also something very similar to this prompt though, it's more about the Crown sacrificing themselves for the ROs. If you're interested in that I'll link it here

I apologize if this isn't the best but I'll try to redo what I can

Azad/Ashti

You were absolutely foolish to get yourself hurt. No matter how kind-hearted you may have been, the Imperial Guard was made to lay down their lives for you. Any injuries you sustained was a stain upon their honor, their own failure to complete their duties.

The Royal Protector fights the icy cold waves of guilt washing over them. They save the lectures and punishments for another time because all that matters in that moment is you.

Their first priority is to get you to safety, the only sign you may see of their inner turmoil not found in their words, but their actions.

The protector's hands shake ever so slightly as they apply pressure to your wounds, hoping to staunch that they can before the healers arrive. A cold sweat chills them down to their very core as they listen for your pulse- only to find it fading away by the second.

They try to reassure you, but it doesn't work. In desperation, they find themselves practically ordering you to keep your eyes open, to not leave them while they're trying to save your life- tightening your bandages up. The unspoken words of concern and love dying in their throat when they look up to see just why you haven't responded.

By the time the healers do arrive, it takes their combined effort to finally pry the Royal Protector from your side.

Dara/Delal

Having served in the military for so long, the General was used to the bloodshed and horror of it all. Gore, suffering, and pain were things they could stomach. Or a least, the ability to do so was required of them.

It's when they see the arrow impaled in your skin, smell the metallic scent of red staining their cloak that the General realizes they may have been wrong. A complex bundle of emotions stirs under those layers of armor, but they have the strength to push through and remain vigilant.

If not for you, then for their own sanity.

Without a second thought, they tear their cloak, torn strips used to either secure the arrow in place and prevent it from moving. If not that, then to help stop the bleeding of any wounds.

They hold their Crown close, all propriety forgotten as the only thing on their mind is you. You need them in this moment and the last thing they'd ever do is fail you. Even if it's killing them on the inside.

What you need in these moments is strength, a shoulder or person to lean on. Which is why they allow you to squeeze the life from their hands. They listen to your weakened voice, giving you the same, almost practiced, words of reassurance they've given countless others.

Yet something about the words this time shakes the General to their core. This time, it feels entirely too raw, like a hundred old wounds made fresh again. The feeling paralyzes them, the unadulterated fear deep in their hardened expression.

As the situation worsens and all seems lost, the General straightens themselves, remaining by your side and keeping a steadfast vigil by your side. Never once do they stray from you. Even as crowds of healers all frantically apply aid to no avail. They remain by your side even as the anguished cries from loyal allies and friends alike sound throughout the halls at news of the inevitable.

And there they remain, even when the last wisps of golden sunlight in those eyes of yours wither away.

Rozerîn/Rêzan

To say that you were everything to the Sorcerer would be an understatement. They had found themselves and their entire life turned upside down by your very being, your warmth and kindness endearing you to the Sorcerer.

You were their purpose, and their friend.

So it's surprise that when they rush to your side, panic and fear overtakes them. The tension is almost palpable in the air as they order, practically beg for others to secure your safety- to fetch the healers- to do something.

It's also in this very moment that they curse their own abilities, or lack thereof. Healing magic simply wasn't a big priority, especially when there were so many others who could look after your health and safety.

If only they had studied more - practiced more- perhaps paid more attention to their surroundings or kept a better eye over the many enemies of Arsur.

A gentle hand, your hand, frees them from the mental prison they were trapped in, lifting the weight of guilt and shame enough for them to focus on pouring every once of themselves to saving you.

You had saved them, been there by their side from the very start.

They had to return the favor, to repay you for all your trust.

Those sentiments ring through their head, repeated over and over again like a mantra as they feel a sharp pain in their skull. Hands trembling from the sheer amount of magic they were using.

The darkness, a very similar one you once saved them from sets its familiar claws into them, the Sorcerer collapsing besides you- their fists bunching up the fabric of your clothing. With what little strength they can muster, the Sorcerer pulls you to their chest, cradling their dying star to their chest.

Xelara/Xelef

The mercenary was a mess. Clever words had long left them by the time they reached your side. Instead there were only frantic, broken phrases of concern and orders to remain still less your wounds worsen.

It almost feels out of character for them, at least, for those who only knew the mercenary by reputation. Having lived the life they did and taking on a profession that exposes them to danger so very often; the Pale Sword had a relationship with death that bordered on being blasé. Even when other Crescent Blades fell in battle, their leader could keep a rational mind about it. For many, this helped to cement the band of mercenaries as relentless, a force to be reckoned with.

If only the gossip mongers and general public could see them now, form hunched over your own. The corner of their vision blurred from the stinging of tears threatening to spill.

They had expected an end like this for them, perhaps even desiring it over the withering they'd have to endure from aging, but for you? Nothing like this was supposed to happen to you. You were the Crown of Arsur. The leader of millions that all relied on you being safe and well. And, perhaps more importantly to the mercenary, you were also the keeper of their heart.

Were? No, you are the Crown of Arsur. And you will live through this. You have to. Otherwise...

The Pale Sword ends the notion right then and there, focusing on the present and being by your side. By now, they've done what they can for you, whether through what general first aid they know or through the healing magics of one of their Blades.

Moving you was out of the question, the very attempt to do so drawing a loud cry of pain from your lips. A wince of guilt burns in the mercenary as they pull back, trying to keep your focus on them instead of the carnage of battle.

The feeling of helplessness isn't an unfamiliar one to the mercenary, however, it's one that the Pale Sword despises to their very core. But what could they do for you that hasn't already been done? What could they do to ease your undeserved suffering?

What they do best.

Lie.

It only takes a moment for mercenary to pull their act together, a practiced, albeit softer smile, gracing their features. What would have been smoothed, honeyed lies of your condition fall flatter than they'd like. Your weak smile tells them as such, a weakened, forced laugh humoring the mercenary and giving them one last act of kindness they know deep down they do not deserve. Nevertheless, they embrace the comfort wholeheartedly, bringing the back of your chilled hands to their lips, their touch- their kiss, returning your gift with one last hug of warmth before the light in you fades away.

[shhhhimwatchingthis]

ok yeah, I'm willing to put Young Royals up as one of, if not the best teen drama ever written

and not just writing! cinematography, costumes, music, performances! this show truly is a masterpiece

[nicoscheer]

The reel The reel

🎶 Could it be magic- Take that 🎶

The reel

The reel

The reel The reel

[allyriadayne]

began rereading dunk and egg book #2

aemon b taking up blackfyre the sword as daemon falls in the redgrass field thus becoming the new king something something aegor gatekeeping the sword from daemon ii something something otto voice he wears the conqueror’s crown, wields the conqueror’s sword etc

and immediately after, bittersteel is "leading his mad charge" against bloodraven, to avenge his brother. and he could've taken up blackfyre for himself and be called a king too, but he took it back to essos to crown the next one but the war was done when daemon died. that was his whole thing!! and daemon died in their first battle and now bittersteel has to go back and make daemon's sons into kings, something he never was and something they never could be either.

i had not made this connection before! daemon and the twins // daeron and baelor's sons. which makes the maekar / aegor parallels much more obvious. does that mean daemon ii is aerys? the ineffectual king too busy with his pastimes? aegor fits the evil advisor role just like bloodraven is to aerys in this hmmm

[daenerys-targaryen]

I live for the applause, applause, applause I live for the applause-plause live for the applause-plause live for the way that you cheer and scream for me! the applause applause applause!!!

[desultory-novice]

Ayo real question..got any more details about that melting magolor and marx thing you do? :3c

I had no idea Melting Magolor would become such a favorite!

Truthfully... I did write a little ficlet for it!

It was a Magolor POV thingy, immediately following where he shoos everyone off to engage in dangerous "Mimic Crown" experiments in private - only for the crown to immediately malfunction and painfully, terrifying melt him down into the gooey, immobile, barely verbal abomination we see in the comic.

[Read More / Bonus Pic]

(A-ahem, along with lots of muffled cries for Marx and panicked realizations that, oh god, HE sent Marx away, so there's no possible way Marx could find him and help him now. No one's going to find him here. He's going to die trapped in this room...!)

...But, uh, you know? I didn't end up liking it that much? I like angsty things, like A LOT, but even I try to steer away from angst that is just "...X character suffering for 30 minutes" or what have you. ^^;

I try to make sure there's a sparkle of hope / redemption / resolution / comfort in every angsty character piece I do. (Perhaps a comical cool-down panel or a promise of a sequel where things get better :looks at that Wicked King Magolor sequel I still haven't drawn: ) Or at the very least, if absolutely nothing else, cut away before it devolves into pure character torment.

But, hmm... If you want more...

I did imply that the solution to their problems was to call Claycia and have her use her powers to remold Magolor back to something resembling his original form (probably stuck with the little Mimic Crown, as it's just melted into his body at this point) but...that puts everyone back at square one, which is a little boring...

...it's possible that solution is temporary at best, because Mag's body is just that destabilized? (And since they can't remove the Mimic Crown from him, it continues to exert its power over him?)

So, the Mimic Crown starts causing his body to decay again if he gets stressed or exhausted. Or maybe he can only maintain his "regular" form for a few hours a day, and he returns to Melting Magolor at night? (Like some sort of cosmic horror Cinderella! XD)

And that's why Marx sleeps perched on him every night, singing him soothing lullabies in hopes that Magolor gets enough restful sleep that he has a chance of returning to the Magolor that Marx knows for at least a brief chunk of the day tomorrow...

Btw, Magolor's appearance of having "clothes" is just illusion magic; they melt back into his body when he starts losing his grip - except for the cloak, that's real. His speech is muffled (but comprehensible) even when he's stable, but he starts becoming more and more incomprehensible in melted form. Kirby and Marx both insist they can understand him just fine even then.

Marx is normally a complete troll to both his friends and enemies, but his experiences with Magolor taught him how to be a good caretaker and he took to it surprisingly well?! Guess he transforms that innate ability to know what'll drive people crazy and when into knowing what they need from you and when.

[bobauthorman]

Early Mornings in the Mushroom Kingdom

[asexual-levia-tan]

Ah.

so this is alberu's "gamer era"

[tiffanyachings]

i’ve made the terrible discovery that watching a group of friends play dnd for hours really is the most fun a girl can have on her own, this will not end well

[cosmic-ships]

F/O please let me collapse into your arms. I'm so mentally drained.... Man I thought writing this stuff out was hard. It was even harder saying it..tears were shed but I wanted to do this. I want to be as prepared as possible.