#rp: arthur

[cyanorth]

does tumblr know about blindfate (darkthur/oscar)

based on this

[dusts-insanity]

Switching from "roleplay is weird" Twitter to "roleplay accounts are super big here" Tumblr is so jarring. Like what do you mean Arthur Aguefort is just. Here. On my feed.

[o-scrivello]

" Is it my turn yet ?! "

Fuckin'— Fine. Fine. Come through. What didya say you needed?

[bennettarthur]

Here, as per your request.

[arthur-himbo-morgan]

I've grown my hair out! I like it!

Think Mary will like it?

[obv-cap-rogers-rps]

Merthur Starter [Open]

Based on an AU post I saw a million years ago where Arthur was born with magic as well. Arthur has never told anyone and only Gaius knows about it, but he hasn't told Merlin

Arthur was aware of the power that lay dormant in him. It was something that- since he was a boy and Gaius had caught him moving his toys around without touching them- he had been afraid of. Gaius had been sure to tell him all about the dangers of using magic in Uther's kingdom and the lesson had stuck with Arthur. Since that day, he'd never willingly touched the power the curled itself inside his chest. It only ever rose to the surface when Arthur's control slipped, when he was vulnerable.

He was asleep, Arthur knew that, but the nightmare of fighting against a faceless, unrelenting force had him so enraptured that he forgot about his being asleep. Arthur felt a touch to his shoulder and the control that he usually kept clamped tight around his magic slipped and the power lashed out as he jolted awake. Arthur's heart rabbited in his chest as his eyes snapped open and he saw Merlin being thrown back until he hit the floor. Arthur's hands shook around his grip on the blankets as he tried to catch his breath and find something to say.

[wilsons-divorce-papers]

this is canon in my brain now idc

[napoleonic-confessions]

[behindfairytales]

Bradley James in Merlin (1.02) as Arthur Pendragon

[corpse-to-ability]

Sorry I had feelings.

[ask-arthur-kirkland]

whats the WORST british accent, many people say its liverpool

Well. I'm from the Dorset area of England, thank God I got rid of that accent because oh dear.

In my opinion the worst are Brummie (Birmingham) and Scouse (Liverpool)

Brums just sound stupid and Scousers are like nails on a blackboard.

[javierssidechick]

omg omg omg obsessed with ur last one shots!!!! wow you really have a way with writing 🥺

can I request another gf period fic? but with reader being a sobbing mess bc she’s a wuss with period pain (may or not be projecting here heyyyyy)

Comfort in the Storm

Word Count: ~1,200

Warnings: Mentions of period pain, reader in emotional and physical distress, light swearing

Summary: You're caught in the grip of agonizing period pain, reduced to a tearful mess. Arthur finds you struggling alone and makes it his mission to stay by your side, offering quiet comfort and care to help you through the worst of it.

The pain hits in waves, each cramp rolling over you sharper than the last, leaving you breathless. Curled up in bed with your knees tucked to your chest, you try to keep your sobs quiet. The ache in your stomach is relentless, and you feel a familiar warmth in your eyes as the pain threatens to pull more tears from you. You can’t hold them back, and another sob slips out, half-muffled into the pillow.

You don’t hear Arthur enter, but you feel his presence as he stops by the side of the bed. He crouches, his concerned blue eyes meeting yours, brows drawn together.

"Hey there, sweetheart. What’s got ya lookin' so torn up?" His voice is low and gentle, thick with worry.

You can’t manage an answer; a fresh cramp steals your breath, and another sob wracks your chest. You hate that he’s seeing you like this, but Arthur’s hand is already reaching out, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek. He’s careful, almost hesitant, as though he knows the pain has made you fragile.

“Ain't right, seein’ ya hurtin’ like this,” he mutters softly, his voice rough but laced with a kind of tenderness only he could manage. “Tell me what I can do.”

You try to force out a reply, but the pain is so bad that you can only shake your head, closing your eyes against another wave. The next thing you know, he’s climbing onto the bed beside you, arms wrapping around you to pull you close. He’s warm, solid, and when he tucks you against his chest, it feels like some of the ache eases.

Arthur’s hand finds your lower back, his fingers rough and calloused but gentle as he rubs slow, comforting circles against your skin. Each pass of his hand dulls the sharpness, just a bit, and you can feel yourself melting into his touch despite the pain.

"Just breathe, alright? I’m here," he murmurs, his voice steady, as if he could calm the storm raging in you with just his presence. You bury your face in his chest, his shirt soft under your cheek, the familiar smell of him—leather, tobacco, a hint of cedar—bringing a comfort only he can offer.

He doesn’t say much after that, just stays with you, his hand moving in those soothing circles on your back, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders. Every so often, you feel his lips press a soft kiss to your forehead, grounding you each time the pain spikes. You cling to him, letting his warmth seep into you, easing the tension in your body as the cramps start to lose their edge.

After a while, he shifts slightly, reaching for something on the bedside table. You hear the faint clink of a mug and feel the steam against your cheek as he holds it to you. "Got ya some tea. Hot as hell, but maybe it'll help," he says with a soft chuckle.

You manage a small smile, reaching for the mug, and he helps steady your hands as you take a sip. The warmth settles in your chest, a gentle contrast to the ache in your stomach.

"That’s it, drink up," he encourages, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your hand. "Ain't gonna let you go through this alone, y'know? Got ya, every step of the way."

With him there, the pain doesn’t feel as overwhelming. His presence, his warmth, and the small, comforting gestures make each wave of cramps a little easier to bear.

[bennettarthur]

Maybe you’re all right. Maybe I’m old. What the hell could ‘serving old man pussy’ possibly mean.

[artofdeductionbysholmes]

I don't like studies 😭

"I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things, so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend upon it there comes a time when for every addition of knowledge you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones."

― Arthur Conan Doyle, A Study in Scarlet

[arthur-himbo-morgan]

A serious question Arthur, besides Kieran or me, who do you hate?

Also I'm drowning @doubtsnscars

- @micahbellrat

I like Kieran more than I like you so...

Also don't drown Marston! THAT'S MY JOB!

[ravenladycorvus]

@rogue-trader-samuel-drakon

I wouldn't mind helping you save your primarch. At this point I have plenty of experience involving myself with them.

arthur almost got a heart attack when the stranger appeared out of nowhere "who are you? how did you end up in the Ravenspire?" he said as he quickly tried to compose himself and stare at the stranger in front of him