sarcasticdolphin

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April 27th is International Crow and Raven Appreciation Day! My comic Crow time is pretty much stuffed to the brim with crows, so it's a good way to celebrate these goth little dudes.

READ CROW TIME!

OR GET PLUSH GOTH BOI?? WOW!

#crows #birds #secondlina art #crow time

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Elisabeth - Levay/Kunze Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rudolf von Österreich-Ungarn | Rudolf Crown Prince of Austria/Der Tod | Death (Elisabeth) Characters: Rudolf von Österreich-Ungarn | Rudolf Crown Prince of Austria, Der Tod | Death (Elisabeth) Additional Tags: Mirrorverse, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Death is his own warning, Dark, Forced Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Mirror Sex, Sharing a Body, Fucked Up, tod typical dubious consent, Extremely Dubious Consent Series: Part 3 of Mirrorverse Summary:

Rudolf hates that thing in the mirror that looks like him. But how he wants its silver tongue.

#mirrorverse #todolf #my fic

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#bird #raven

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your parents just sold you as their firstborn to a fey. problem is you’re already an adult.

#labyrinth #sequel #where Sarah gets wished away #or au where Sarah gets wished away

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This is a sequel to A Garden Stroll (Is All It Takes).

Thank you so much to @ellorypurebloodculture for letting me play in your sandbox :)

#dolphin's hp stuff #my fic #female harry potter #tom riddle #tomarry #pureblood culture

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#birb #raven #Aemilia watching something

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Fact: The earliest reliably dated use of the phrase “fucked up” appears in the court records of a US Navy court-martial case from 1863; the way the phrase is used suggests that its meaning was already well known at the time, but this is the first known printed record of it that we can confidently put a date to.

Additional fact: Bram Stoker’s Dracula is set in 1897.

Conclusion: It would not anachronistic for your Dracula fanfic to have a character describe the Count as a fucked up old man.

#interesting

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In a world of magic and dragons, everyone thought the healers needed to be protected. No offensive magic to speak of how could they protect them selfs? That’s what everyone thought. Until you proved you can actualy heal someone to death…

#potential for some sort of Todolf au #also something where a Hippocratic oath is very important

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We all love the "becoming the very thing you sought to destroy," trope. but I have a growing fondness for "destroying the very thing you sought to become"

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@ellorypurebloodculture

Le Printemps (Springtime) by Eugène Bidau

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Le Printemps (Springtime) by Eugène Bidau

#Smrt's realm #so pretty #just birds #and angels #and flowers

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Smrtolf (Canon) "Jewels"

For the amazing @adridoesstuff as all the Smrtolf drabbles are :)

This one is all sweetness and softness, set after Rudolf is an angel. Cut is just for length.

Rudolf hadn’t originally planned to have a fully live model for the painting. Smrt had his duties, and the intricacies of matching colors meant that it was not always a quick process. But his precious friend had insisted, and so Smrt was seated beside a flowering bush with the same flowers twined in his hair. That had been the image Rudolf’s mind had conjured.

What he hadn’t expected was the dozens of jewel-hued hummingbirds in the air, some drinking from the flowers of the bush or of Smrt’s crown while others washed their feathers in the water of a small fountain that seemed to be for that purpose alone.

Smrt’s realm was always alive, but for the most part it tended to be a quiet and serene place, filled with plants and flowers, and largely devoid of animals save for the occasional angel. But this little corner of the garden was different. The hummingbirds seemed almost like excited insects at times, moving back and forth in a way that no other birds did.

There was plenty of nectar for all of them - the clearing was positively filled with flowers - but the little birds didn’t quite seem to realize it, instead jostling and almost jousting with each other as they vied for the best places.

And it seemed that more than any of the many branches or stalks, all the little hummingbirds wished to sit amongst Smrt’s tresses and drink from the flowers that were twined into his hair.

The slight pang of jealousy is perhaps not unexpected - Rudolf treasured the hours he spent tending to the little feathers that were hidden in Smrt’s hair, and he did not want to see any of them broken, but, a treacherous piece of his mind whispers, the ruffled and mussed feathers will need to be tended to once more. So perhaps there is a silver lining to the uninvited guests that seem all too happy to make themselves so at home in Smrt’s hair.

Rudolf’s friend is so very patient and still as he adds little details, constantly checking over his colors again, watching how they fit together. The scene before him is beautiful, and he wants to capture it in all its glory. 

But the little jewel-toned birds won’t stay nearly as still as Smrt, and Rudolf finds himself adding more and more of them. There are never more than a handful in Smrt’s hair at any one time - the rest are at the bushes, in the bath, or simply milling about, but soon there are a dozen in the painting, all drinking from the crown of flowers.

The hues are tricky - more for the fact that they are so brilliant than anything else. The paints feel like a dull mockery in comparison to the bright little feathers, and it makes for slow going.

And then there is the fact that some of the birds are quite a bit larger than the others. It makes for difficulties with scaling, especially with the littlest birds that only flit about Smrt’s head taking drinks from the crown, never so much as landing. If he didn’t know better, Rudolf would have thought them little brilliantly colored insects.

On the opposite end of things, there are a few larger birds at the edges of it all - nearly the size of sparrows. But the giant hummingbirds are rather shy compared to their tiny relatives, preferring particular flowers for the most part. Or they had before Aemilia and Anna arrived, at which point they were more than happy to drink from the feeder Aemilia had brought, and even to perch on her hands. Come to think of it, Aemilia had been the one who had suggested this particular garden to Rudolf as a painting location.

Rudolf finds himself smiling as the two angels join him and Smrt, though they keep a respectful distance. Aemilia sits by another bush perhaps a dozen or so paces away while Anna sprawls out on the ground, her head in her sister's lap.

Once Rudolf would have felt that he ought to speak to them simply for the sake of speaking, but not now. The angels sometimes simply sought out Smrt for his company, and to be near him. Rudolf certainly did, and on those occasions they often desired peace rather than endless talk. It is entirely different to the courtly etiquette Rudolf had learned in life. A companionable silence.

He doesn’t pay much attention to his own tresses. There is a slight breeze, and the paints require his full attention. Smrt had insisted that they ought to match, and so a crown of flowers sat amongst Rudolf’s hair as well, but it was nothing compared to the over-the-top gaudy things that were relics of the House of Habsburg, weighing practically nothing. There was no risk that Rudolf would break his own neck by simply tilting his head a little too far.

Smrt’s expression had been rather serene the entire time - calm and endlessly patient, but a smile blooms in his face in a way that makes the little feathers hidden amongst Ruodlf’s hair fluff themselves ever so slightly. And, Rudolf thinks, he’s likely blushing as well - though he doesn’t blush as much as he used to.

Smrt delicately taps his own temple, and Rudolf finds himself confused. What does his friend mean? Smrt gives a little nod upward, and Rudolf feels his tresses moving ever so slightly once more.

There is no proper mirror, and Rudolf has no intention of going to a reflecting pool just now, but the little basin of clean water serves its purpose well enough. Rudolf’s reflection has a crown of flowers, but also one of brilliant little jewels. Hummingbirds. Nestled amongst Rudolf’s own locks in a perfect mirror of Smrt’s living, bejeweled crown.

Rudolf finds his own smile matching Smrt’s. Perhaps they should return here soon. As much as the painting is rather slow going with all the little birds around, Rudolf finds that he very much wants to try a self portrait. And then perhaps a portrait of himself and Smrt together.

#smrtolf #todolf #my fic

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do you ever get that thing when you’re thinking of a fic in your head and it’s so beautiful to you but it would cost you too much to write it and too much fighting with yourself to put on paper, so it just continually spins around like one of those 3D renders until the end of time

#yeah this happens sometimes #especially with ideas that I really love #and so I want the fic to be perfect #but try as I might #Either I can never come up with a plot that does the concept justice #or the characterization eludes me #or something else #there's always something

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Today is the 170 year anniversary of Franz Joseph's and Elisabeth's wedding, so don't forget to blast your favorite versions of Alle Fragen sind gestellt, Sie passt nicht and Der Letzte Tanz at least once today <3

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Guest comments back on!

Guest comments have now been turned back on! We'll continue to keep an eye out for any spam issues and make further adjustments as needed. (22:08 UTC April 23, 2024)

#yay

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the idealized version of my tomorrow self will fix this

#guilty as charged

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カササギ（Eurasian Magpie）

#bird #birb #pretty :)