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#king please notice me
royalarchivist · 5 months
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Bad: Make a chainsaw.
Bagi: [Laughing, sounding incredulous] A chainsaw? Yes!!!
Bad: Yeah, because chainsaws are broken.
Bagi: Yeah, I'll traumatize my brother. I think it's a nice idea. [...] Yeah, yesterday he killed me screaming, "Hey, little sis!" Now I have something to get my revenge.
Fit: I can't believe you two are siblings, though. That's crazy.
Bagi: Yeah, it's a long story, I think we should talk about that when we are back to the island.
Fit: Yeah, yeah yeah yeah, for sure.
Bagi: Yeah, a lot happened. But I think he's adopted.
Fit: Oh, you think?
Bagi: Yeah, he's too aggressive to be my brother.
Pac: [Looking down at his legs] ...Yeah, too much aggressive.
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pushing500 · 2 months
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They were on their way to bed and Buckeye decided it was a good time to strike up a deep conversation.
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Bella grew up into an adult (a thirteen-year-old, but it's all same-same in RimWorld), and she has the "hulk" body type, which I admit jumpscared me a little. Still, I look forward to drawing a pigskin Amazonian warrior wearing fancy gowns and using table manners worthy of a princess.
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Aha! The perfect opportunity for newly-adult Bella to put her medical skills into practice!
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Welcome to the cult, Marty Night Stalker. Nice to see Blackdragon keeping up the tradition of naming his newborn children unnecessarily badass names.
I do like the Millie Mossler and Marty Mossler alliteration for the two siblings, though. Good work on that one, Duchess!
First | Next | Previous
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finncakes · 1 year
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i posted this one the wrong blog originally, but happy halloween!
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pja-party · 1 year
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Encanto reference
Casino Cups  belongs to @askcupsandcasinos
Lily rose belongs to  @shortcakelils
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sophiebernadotte · 3 months
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"When we talk about Frederik's popularity, we also have to acknowledge that there have been quite a few mishaps"
Denmark's new regent has several scandals in his backpack.
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Today, Crown Prince Frederik has entered the office he was born to, and from now on, he will have to fill the huge shoes that his mother, Queen Margrethe, is leaving behind.
These are shoes that he is predicted to be able to fill via his slightly more popular profile, who attends Smukfest and organizes the Royal Run.
But the route to where he is today has occasionally been bumpy and has left the country's new king with scratches in the paint.
There have been cases of public backlash in the 55-year-old regent's life.
- When we talk about Frederik's popularity, we also have to acknowledge that there have been quite a few mishaps, says Cecilie Nielsen, history and royal house correspondent at DR Nyheder.
Among other things, she points to the time a 20-year-old Crown Prince Frederik and 19-year-old Prince Joachim, together with two friends, drove Frederik's Peugeot 205 off the road near Cahors in France.
- It was a rather serious accident, so there was a lot of talk about whether the two princes were even allowed to drive together, Cecilie Nielsen tells about the episode, which took place in 1988.
Partner was driving drunk
And four years later, it went sideways again.
- Then there is also a New Year's party in 1992, where his girlfriend, in a drunken state, gets behind the wheel of his car, says Cecilie Nielsen.
The girlfriend at the time was Malou Aamund, who did not have a driver's license. The episode once again caused a media storm about Frederik.
- Taken for drunken driving, read the headline in B.T.
If you continue to botanize in the then crown prince's misfortune on four wheels, many probably remember when he crossed an otherwise closed Great Belt Bridge in 2015.
The IOC case is the worst
However, that is not where you find the case that has brought Frederik into the most headwinds, says royal house commentator Thomas Larsen.
- The biggest storm was the IOC case because he was also up against the political system, which simply believed that he had made a completely wrong decision.
Frederik went directly against the Danish line in the International Olympic Committee in 2016 and voted for Russia to participate in the Olympics despite extensive scandals about state-sponsored doping.
Before then, it had raised criticism that he stood up for the committee.
- In the role as king, he simply cannot get into such conflicts, says Thomas Larsen.
Especially when he no longer has Queen Margrethe as a frontline fighter, says the royal house expert.
- I think he should consider himself happy that he could stand under the protection of a very, very strong queen.
Herlufsholm and Casanova
In addition, the future regents were also on thin ice when the whole case around Herlufsholm was happening. A case which, as you know, ended with Prince Christian changing schools.
- It raised the question: Can the royal children go to a school that is part of a bullying debate when their mother has an anti-bullying campaign, says Cecilie Nielsen, which, of course, also mentions the recent case of Crown Prince Frederik's trip to Madrid, where he was photographed in the company of the Mexican model Genoveva Casanova.
- It was especially big in foreign media, says Cecilie Nielsen.
Translation of an article by Jakob Slyngborg Trolle for DR, published Jan. 14, 2024, at 18:33. The text has also been edited by me for clarity.
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skitskatdacat63 · 5 months
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Notes:
I think I definitely like the original versions more than the edited ones. I'm more happy with the grumpy Fernando one, whereas the bratty Seb one made me want to cease painting forever. So hopefully he looks good?????? I'm sure I'll soften on it, but yeah, not TOO pleased with it right now. His facial expressions are so cute and dynamic and unique until you have to try and paint it and then you dont love him anymore(kidding ofc, how could I ever hate my beloved boy king 🥺)
Anyways, these are them:
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#the caption is a multi-pronged reference so if you get it you get it 🤭#hint: the quote is both a translation of a vettonso thing but its also not...exact. i added a little spice to it#so yeah translate all of that first(the first part of the quote wont work in google translate tho)#and then also the rest of the caption is both a reference to a real life thing but also me making it AUified !!#hehehe let me know your thoughts 🤭 was so fucking pleased w it when i first told C about it#ngl putting that quote was the main thing pushing me thru finishing the seb one#im like CMON YOU CAN DO IT!! IF YOU FINISH IT YOU CAN PUT YOUR SILLY LATIN JOKE!!! YOU LOVE LATIN!!#anyways i drafted this before i even really started the seb one#and my god LOOK AT THEIR HAND SIZE DIFFERENCE WOOF WOOF WOOF#did you guys notice...seb's ring...his wedding...ring? 🤭🤭🤭#wanted to add one to nando but his left ring finger isnt really visible but just so you know hes wearing it#I have a lot of thoughrs about rings and ungloved vs gloved hands grrrrrrr#theres a lot of meaning in it to me and it adds to their characterization so ill try and make a post abt thay sometime !#anyways pls enjoy the fruits of my labor.....#vettonso so good it makes me PAINT TWO PORTRAITS#i think before this au i was kinda trying to get away from painting csuse it stressed me out too much#and then the vettonso brainrot is so horrinle that im willing to paint for like...an undisclosed amnt of time#undisclosed not bcs im being secretive but bcs i have no idea and irs 6 am and i have school JSKFLVL#okay bur yes yes please enjoy. and enjoy my suffering as a purveyor of vettonso 🥹 id do anything for my lieges#f1#formula 1#sebastian vettel#fernando alonso#vettonso#catie.art.#boy king au
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pretendthisisaname · 2 months
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I love all the little details in In Stars and Time so much
(Just as a note, I am currently in (the beginning? of) act 3)
The way that after a few loops the excited "It's my allies!" turns into a less enthusiastic "It's my allies." (And I think it used to be "it's my friends!" but I'm not entirely sure)
The first time Siffrin knocks into the counter and gets embarrassed, and then another (the next?) time it's frustrated, and then playful, and then frustrated again but this time refusing to show it.
The little remarks that become "..." in later loops
I'm pretty sure the descriptions of the deaths got a little more graphic? I think when he slipped on the banana peel it said that he tripped or that he fell. In a later loop it said something about cracking their head open on a rock or something.
Their wish for victory became a wish for rest
It's just so interesting to me. For some reason, this game almost makes me feel like I'm reading a book. But also not really? I think it's because of how the details are laid out. My favorite stories to read have almost always been the ones that I can pick apart, and this game is very much like that.
#isat spoilers#in stars and time spoilers#maybe? they're pretty small spoilers compared to the one I ran into#just in case#I love this game soooooooo much#I see siffrin and get immediate cute aggression#amd they're so sad :(#I want his friends to notice that something is off#I've seen little moments of it but nothing big yet#and there are some odd things going on that intrigue me#bonnie said the weird sadness (which looks a little like loop) smells like burnt sugar#the king mentioned something about siffrins smell#does he smell like burnt sugar too?#the weird sadnesses are connected to time in some way since defeating them lets you get rid of time stopping tears#also I'm pretty sure king is the croissant dude#and that he and siffrin are from the island everyone forgot#maybe it's that place on the globe that's been worn down?#the fact that siffrins carvings only come out well when they chant things like “please be good please be good please be good” is interestin#and their wishes for being faster/stronger/whatever the other one was called always comes true#despite mirabelle saying that the change god rarely blesses anyone#oh! there was that weird double siffrin down the hall that disappeared when I got closer#and at one point siffrin became so stressed that time rewound without him dying or being frozen#and it always hurts his stomach when he loops back#I'm just waiting for the group to get suspicous/concerned#and for siffrin to have another breakdown#this gaaaaaaaaame#I love it so much
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WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME THERE WAS ANOTHER MULTIMEDIA PROJECT MADE BY KING RECORDS??????????????
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i adore ohse, he's going to be my doppo kinnie i can make my skrunklie
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ALSO HIS OUTFIT IS GIVING JYUSHI
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in love with him...
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also this mfer,,,
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calls himself world's sexiest ambassador and i CANNOT take that seriously ever it's like if someone just straight up called themselves GIGOLO- Songs I think are pretty nice:
youtube
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Their use of autotune makes me sad... bc Ohse's regular voice sounds so good!!! But overlooking that, this song is so pretty,,,
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Feel free to check out their Youtube, Twiiter, website, and then the fandom wiki if you're interested~!
=== Also, if you ARE interested, you should join my discord grrgsfgkfjg I need more people to talk to about the most obscure things !! (ALSO APPLIES FOR HYPMIC, IF YOU LIKE HYPMIC PLEASE!! TALK TO ME!!!)
discord.gg/cBYqYJSQTu
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tale-of-two-new-kings · 6 months
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[ Initializing connection . . . . ]
[ . . . . . ]
{ Bzzrt! connection completed! }
Amazing! Much obliged Zepher. Now.. um... now what do I?-
{ Just speak-zz, and I will ~transcribe~ whatever you wizh, Your Zzzighness! }
Alright! Well, a good evening to the people of 'Rotumblr'- am I pronouncing that right?- I am- okay, very good-
My name is... Tax! Just call me Tax. I am ever so thrilled to explore this- uh {app!} yes, this app! And discover more about the people who parruse this space!
... ... {is that all?} Is there more that needs to be said?? {No! no, eh-he, I'll get that bzz- posted right away...hooboy}
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widevibratobitch · 2 years
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@wanderlust-t tagged me and oh dear lord how am i to choose but also ily thank you <333 so here goes, in no particular order
10 blorbos from 10 fandoms
Rodrigo - Don Carlo(s) (both Schiller's and Verdi's, though Schiller's Rodrigo is more of an asshole so if I had to choose...)
Leporello - Don Giovanni
Loki - MCU (and I mean the og Loki, the real Loki, the 2012 tumblr sexyman Loki, the phase 1&2 Loki, the Loki whose mutilated corpse the mcu has been dragging behind the bus for the last 5 years - i will never stop being bitter about this sorry)
Jack Rackham - Black Sails
Eddie Munson - Stranger Things
Jaskier - Wiedźmin /The Witcher
Aramis - The Three Musketeers (Dumas)
Basil Hallward - The Picture of Dorian Gray (Wilde)
Hamlet - Hamlet (Shakespeare)
10th Doctor - Doctor Who
tagging @merteuilpdf @carlodivarga-s @vera-dauriac @smile-at-the-stars @revedebeatrice @notyouraveragejulie @bozda-dom @heavensfoe @donnaimmaculata have fun besties!
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kaylinelizabeth4004 · 8 months
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Sky Full of Song
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley listen to some music. Then Crowley decides to make something special for Aziraphale.
Title from a Florence + the Machine song, I don’t know why but Florence and Good Omens are connected in my mind.
When they had first settled upon the idea of Crowley living inside the bookshop, along with Aziraphale, they had a few small technicalities to work out. Where Crowley would sleep was easily sorted out with a quick snort by Aziraphale, who called it their bedroom, as though it were the most obvious thing, which only shut Crowley up and make him cover his face with his hand to hide the blush across his cheeks.
And of course, there was the matter of Crowley's plants. There were 23 of them to date, all named and specialized with their own personal stories - of which we will dive into a different day. Aziraphale didn't hesitate to set aside some books, miracle some new end tables, and create space for the plants. They were Crowley's version of books, he argued, and deserved their place in their world. So there they stay, Orion up near the front to stare at anyone who dared to actually purchase a book.
Naturally, Crowley assumed that his moving in would eliminate the need for a flat at all. That flat was cold, damp, and terribly inconvenient to get to, quite like the rest of London. He saw no reason to cling onto a place that never felt like his home. However Aziraphale had a different approach.
"Well, dearest, it's not that I wish to be away from you, of course. It's rather that you, err, you might wish to be away from me," Aziraphale had explained over some delightful wine from the '20s.
"Wot?" Crowley asked, furrowing his brows in genuine confusion.
"It's just, I worry you feel as though you have to stay here all the time. I want you to have an, err, an out. An out from me. If you wish to do something without my presence."
Crowley thought for a moment then scoffed, "if you didn't want me around all the time you could have just said so."
"No!" Aziraphale stiffened in his seat, reaching out to place an eager hand on Crowley's arm. He looked so warm and inviting to Crowley, as though his very existence was one large hug you didn't deserve. "Dear, I adore having you here. I want you here as often as possible. I just don't want you to feel as though you have to, for my sake. You are more than my... person. You shouldn't have to sacrifice your life for mine."
What Crowley wanted to say was, 'I'd sacrifice my life for yours any day. I want to be with you every moment of every day, even if it means I stare into space while you pour over the same book you've been pouring over for two centuries. You aren't a sacrifice, you're a gift in my life.'
What he actually said was, "s'alright then. I can store... things there."
Aziraphale smiled that proud and yet shy smile, patting Crowley's arm. He rose from his seat, placing a soft kiss on Crowley's temple as he went towards the record player. He lifted a record from his collection with a flourish as he said, "Wonderful, my dear."
"S'bloody brilliant," Crowley mumbled before swallowing a large mouthful of the truly delicious wine. Aziraphale had such a wicked taste in wine, it was unmatched.
"Oh I think you'll quite enjoy this one," Aziraphale said with a giddy smile, sitting down as the record played that dull hum before the music actually started. Crowley tried to contain his smile as he watched Aziraphale wiggle from excitement, shake his body like he couldn't contain it.
It was jazz, that much Crowley could tell. He took extra care to pay attention to the song being played, and when he realized what it was his brows lifted. "Angel, is that Nature Boy?"
"It is!" Aziraphale giggled. "I know you just adored Nat King Cole's music and I found this record, I just knew we had to have it."
'Adore' might have been a stretch in Crowley's mind, he'd never been outright obsessed but he did enjoy listening to him. Nat King Cole's voice did something to Crowley that few other artists could do. Sure Elvis Presley made him nostalgic, Queen made him feel alive, The Smiths were all he wanted to be, KISS was all he wanted to dress like, and somewhere in there Nat King Cole's voice floated around. Nothing specific, but nothing unspecific either. An emotional blob that just existed.
He wished he could explain it, tried to reason that maybe he loved the way his voice seemed to slide through the room like butter. It was smooth, calm, deep. The lyrics to Nature Boy didn't help that ache in his soul, their story echoing in a room full of stories. It was beautiful and simple, but it seemed to reach a part of him he didn't quite understand. But he felt his heart tighten, threatening to burst as the sweet Angel across from him closed his eyes and listened to it all. He bought this for him, knowing he loved it.
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved, in return," Crowley murmured along with the record. Aziraphale looked up suddenly at Crowley's voice, and took a small, selfish smile. This was everything.
There they were, one late evening in a quaint, unassuming little bookshop, on an unassuming street, in an unassuming city, a demon and an angel sat in the music. They didn't say a word, letting the chords glide through them as one. It was always something that united them. Even when good and evil seems blurred and the world might actually fall apart because of a preteen, the music never faltered.
———
Sometimes ideas seem a lot better in words than in action. While Crowley had agreed that he could 'store stuff' in his now empty flat, he stared at it like it was a beast. Apart from Aziraphale, huh? Bah, it would never happen. Crowley scoffed as he left, locking up quickly as he sauntered out of there. He didn't see any reason he needed to abandon his Angel.
On the walk home, - yes walk. Unfortunately Aziraphale had decided the 'our' in 'our home, our bookshop, our hot chocolate', now applied to Crowley's Bentley. His sweet, precious Bentley. Now turned as yellow as piss while Aziraphale went to collect a package an hour outside of town. No, Crowley supposed it didn't really look like piss. But anything other than her true, dark beauty seemed deceiving. She did belong to a demon of all things, not Miss Frizzle. Whatever, he blew a breath and continued down the road.
Crowley chuckled to himself for a moment, Aziraphale was one strange dress and some box dye away from becoming Miss Frizzle. Though he didn't suppose Aziraphale would appreciate the reference as much as Crowley liked it.
He stopped for a moment outside one of the shops, catching a glimpse of his hair looking positively on fire. It wouldn't be the first time he was literally on fire, and he worried he'd been smoking without realizing. Pissed off some good people last time he let that get out of hand.
As Crowley turned to leave, he noticed what sat on a little stand in the window. A knitting kit. Along with various shades of blue and yellow yarn, laying on a sweet basket that seemed to have all one would need to knit. Needles and what not, Crowley wasn't actually sure what was required to knit but some of the ladies back in the 1790s loved to do it while the aristocracy lost their heads. One lady made him a love scarf, he still has it somewhere. Bloody good wine, then.
He didn't really know why, but against his better judgment Crowley strolled right in and purchased the kit. Then he went and stood on the street corner for a full two minutes, trying to decide what to do with his 30 quid worth of knitting supplies. He very well couldn't bring it back to the bookshop.
Not only does Aziraphale know how to knit, he's good at it. And Crowley doesn't necessarily feel like having him linger around, breathing softly down his neck and completely unaware he was doing it. Then he would sit down, away from Crowley, nose shoved in a book with wide eyes over the edge. And each time Crowley would do something wrong, Aziraphale would whisper a little "oh dear" before avoiding Crowley's gaze. This was part of the reason Crowley gave up on sewing. That and the needle was too damn small for his eyes. It was sweet and infuriating all at the same time. Aziraphale meant well, Crowley knew that, the Angel never meant poorly. But it wasn't worth the trouble.
So that was why Crowley ended up make in a cold, damp, inconvenient flat with a basket full of knitting supplies sitting on the empty floor.
"You s'can't be worth at the trouble," Crowley mumbled to it, poking it with his foot.
They stared at one another in awkward silence for about a minute before Crowley broke, sauntering through the different dark rooms of the flat. He loitered in his office, remembering fondly when Ligur melted into a puddle at the entrance. His desk still had the scratch from his vintage message machine. Crowley let out a breath.
Then he found himself back where he started, staring at a basket full of knitting supplies as though it were going to bite him. He wishes it would, it would be better than the mocking stare it presented instead.
"Ngk, fine, you stupid bloody thing," Crowley said in an agitated voice, sitting on the empty floor beside it. "You s'better be the best damn kit money coulda bought."
He dumped the supplies in a heap, going straight for the needles and the blue yarn. This should be easy. People been doing it for hundreds of years. Easy. Easy peasy, tickety-boo as his Angel says.
20 minutes later and it was most certainly not tickety-boo. Crowley had pin pricks along his fingers, fraying yarn on the cuffs of his jacket, and one massive knot he couldn't comprehend how it had happened. His phone buzzed in his pocket, giving him a chance to escape this nightmare. He could feel the steam coming from his ears and he threw the offending material down to stand and answer it.
"Ah, Angel, was wondering when you'd bother to call. I've been left alone for days."
"Oh don't be dramatic," Aziraphale said, but Crowley could hear the smile on his face. "It should be I who is upset with you. Where are you? I returned home to find an empty bookshop and some very rude individual trying to open the door to buy books!"
"Bloody idiot."
"That's what I said, in less offensive terms, of course. Dearest, you didn't answer my question. Where are you?"
"I'm..." he debated the different possible answers he could be giving Aziraphale. Admitting he was at the flat would excite him, but it could also prompt questions about the purpose. Saying he was anywhere else would be lying, and that didn't feel quite right. Not anymore, though he supposed it never did. So he sighed and just said, "I'm at the old flat. Checking in."
He could hear Aziraphale's giddy voice, "oh wonderful. I'm so glad you have that space."
"M'yeah, it's, uh, it's nice."
"Goody!"
There was a moment of silence on the phone. Aziraphale was moving some items around to accommodate the rare Walt Whitman he had just spent 2 1/2 hours of his day acquiring. Crowley was staring at the blue heap of yarn on the floor.
After a few moments of companionable silence Aziraphale sighed and said, "Well I'll be the first to say it. I'd like you here, to spend time with me. I miss you."
Crowley fought the smile on his face as he teased Aziraphale, "wot? Wot'd you say? I missed it, signal totally blew."
"I said I missed you!"
"Wot? Say it again, Angel, totally lagging over 'ere."
Aziraphale puffed out in a whined voice, "oh you wily serpent, come home! I missed you today!"
"Ahhh, you missed me. And here I was thinking you said I pissed me, and that doesn't make bloody sense does it," Crowley said with a sarcastic tone, walking outside and towards the bookshop faster than he intended to.
"Oh just hurry on home, my love."
Crowley was stunned for a moment. 'My love' was a new nickname, and one he had always considered cheesy with other pairs. But instead, with Aziraphale it just made him blush and walk faster than he meant to.
"On it, Angel."
———
A week and a half later, Aziraphale was off at Maggie's little record shop helping her organize and try to market to the current generation. She wasn't getting much busy, which Aziraphale thought to be the most disappointing. Records were his favorite form of music.
As Aziraphale tucked every Nat King Cole into their proper place, Crowley was across London in a damp, cold, inconvenient flat hunched over and trying to knit. He'd bought a book full of patterns and instructions, and was now on his third iteration of the same scarf. The two previous attempts were in burned heaps in the corner, neither even close to completion. They had started to go horribly wrong and Crowley got so angry he accidentally set them on fire.
This time around, Crowley was taking his time with each action. He was terrified of mucking it all up. This was important to him, even if it was just a bunch of fibres looped together.
"If you s'don't do exactly as I tells you I will make your life hell," Crowley muttered to the yarn. "And's I can actually do that. Think hard on your decision."
Whether it was the slowness, the patience, or the fear of Crowley installed in the bundles of pale yellow and blue yarn, it was actually started to turn out his way.
———
Aziraphale hummed to himself a song he'd heard for the first time over at Maggie's shop. 'Unforgettable' by Nat King Cole. He realized he might have started to develop a real love for that man's music, all because of how much he knew Crowley enjoyed him. He never imagined himself a jazz fan, far too eccentric for his tastes, but the smooth notes got stuck in Crowley's head as he made the pair hot chocolates.
He was still humming softly as he returned to the main area of the bookshop, eyebrows raised as he saw a small white box with a yellow ribbon on his desk.
"Crowley, what's this?" Aziraphale asked, setting his mug down beside the box and walking over to where Crowley was sprawled across a chair.
"Wot?"
"The box, what is it?"
Crowley shrugged, sipping the hot chocolate Aziraphale gave him and looking out the window, "I dunno."
"You don't know? What do you mean you don't know?" Aziraphale scoffed as though it was completely impossible.
"I said I don't know, Angel. Might as well open it and find out."
Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and looked at Crowley with confusion. Crowley didn't always love to communicate well, though neither did he - a sin they both unfortunately share - but this was entirely new. Despite all this, Aziraphale did go to the box. He gently undid the pale yellow ribbon, it was so beautiful he took extra pains to not rip it, and lifted the the lid.
He gasped slightly at what he saw, "oh Crowley."
Crowley cringed, expecting Aziraphale to hate it. But that was quite the opposite. Inside the box sat a scarf, blue and yellow and hand knit, with a small card sitting on top of it saying 'Happy Creation Day.' Aziraphale glanced up and was surprised to find that it was, indeed, October 21st. Creation Day, the Earth was now 6,027 years old, and Crowley remembered.
Aziraphale lifted the scarf from the box, seeing it for what it was. It wasn't perfect in the slightest. The yellow and blue made an awkward, uneven contrast at some parts. Knots made lumps throughout the entire scarf, and one color was at least an inch and a half longer than the other. But all the same, it made Aziraphale tear up, "oh Crowley it's beautiful."
"You really think so?" Crowley asked timidly, now standing stiffly near where he was sitting. His eyes were looking anywhere but Aziraphale, scared if he looked at him he'd be humiliated. His cheeks were pink as Aziraphale looked at his work.
"Oh dearest, this is amazing. How long did it take you?"
"Oh, just, you know normal knitting times..."
"Crowley?"
"2 months," he mumbled.
Aziraphale dropped the scarf into the box, walking over to Crowley and gently placing his hands on his cheeks. Though he closed his eyes, he leaned his head into the touch. "You spent 2 months making this for me?"
"S'course, Angel. Woulda spent longer, got rushed."
"My darling, it is absolutely beautiful. Thank you so much for this gift. You have outdone yourself."
It was these words that made Crowley open his bright, yellow eyes and look at Aziraphale. He wasn't lying, he wasn't lying in the slightest. All he saw in Aziraphale's eyes was admiration, love, and the glassy look of someone trying to hold back tears. Crowley whispered softly, "why are you crying?"
Aziraphale laughed softly, letting a tear fall at this, "Oh my sweet, it's good tears. I'm just so overwhelmed. It's so beautiful and you made it for me."
"S'course."
Aziraphale let his forehead fall against Crowley's. There they stood in their little bookshop, two angels holding each other. After a few moments of this, Aziraphale broke away, kissed Crowley forehead and wiped away his tears.
"Well, shall I treat you to a spot of lunch?"
"I think a table at the Ritz just opened up," Crowley smiled, hiding the mist in his own eyes.
"Oh, what a miracle!" Aziraphale giggled. "You go on and warm up the car dearest. I'll only be a moment."
"M'kay, Angel." Crowley walked out and greeted his lovely Bentley with an appreciative whistle. "Such a beautiful girl, can't wait to ride you."
A woman walking puffed up and said, "shut it, you creepy bloke."
Crowley, offended, scoffed, "I- I was talking to my car. Not you!"
She rolled eyes, "sure, mate, I believe ya."
Crowley took on a taunting tone, "You're not even my type, you- you- you box dye brunette!" He couldn't think of a better insult and she just flipped him off and stalked off.
"Oh bugger," Crowley murmured, going to open the driver's door. Then he stopped, looking up at Aziraphale who was now on the steps of the bookshop. He was wearing the scarf he made him.
He was wearing the scarf he made him.
And proudly too. Despite it's lumps, it's unevenness, and it's wonky patterns, Aziraphale wore the scarf like a badge of honor. He was showing off to the world that Crowley was his, and Crowley was talented, sweet, and anyone would be lucky to have him. But they couldn't have him, because Crowley was Aziraphale's, as Aziraphale was Crowley's.
"Ngk-wow, Angel."
"Don't you like it?" Aziraphale asked, preening like a peacock. "I had it handmade by the most talented man. I shall give you his number if you like."
"N-nah. I'm not a knit type of guy."
"Oh shame, he really is quite good. And he looks fantastic is those leather jackets," Aziraphale says with a wide grin.
"Just get in, Angel." Crowley was now blushing violently, and got in the car to avoid turning into a hot pink mess out there. Aziraphale slid in beside him, sitting pin straight as he does but with a little proud wiggle in his seat. He was so fucking cute it hurt sometimes, so Crowley turned on the radio.
In the silence of the car ride, Nat King Cole's mesmerizing voice called out, "the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved, in return."
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kimjoongie · 2 years
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anyways I am finally going to sleep but before I go I need to say that this feels like such good work from ateez. I know there's gonna be people that are gonna hate the song to death lmao but this truly feels like the very cohesive start of an era and I'm actually really proud
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timetohealit · 5 months
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How do I job hunt if my current job has made me feel completely useless
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tossawary · 4 months
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One of my personal nitpicks for historical fantasy is a lack of servants, staff, subordinates, and... idk... subjects? Like, their absence is not... a total dealbreaker for me, depending on the situations the characters are in and whether or not I can just assume that other people are there in the background... but so many of the protagonists in historical fantasy stuff are higher-ranking (very often royalty), and/or have busy jobs, and/or have enormous houses that would necessitate having at least part-time staff.
Like, girl, you should have a maid! WHERE is your chaperone?! WHO is driving this carriage?! Where are your footmen? Are you trying to imply that a WEALTHY DUCHESS is taking a CAB?! You know that you probably have tenants, right? Where is your steward?! Where is your lawyer? Your accountant?! (Like, yeah, you're not going to have your lawyer living in your house, but you HAVE one, right???)
Or, man, you're supposed to be a military commander and you don't even have a single secretary?! Where is your SQUIRE?! (In the spirit of historical fiction, I am jumping wildly across time periods with every sentence here.) Man, I know you aren't looking after your own boots. Where are your GUARDS?! Who set up this tent for you?! Who is looking after your horse?! Who is making and carrying the incredibly valuable maps people are recklessly stabbing daggers into?!
SOMEONE has to be scrubbing these floors and delivering the mail and cooking the meals and doing laundry, and they're probably all DIFFERENT people! My dentist has at least three different receptionists and we can't even get ONE for our court wizard here? A sorcerer's apprentice to take notes? Someone like Sherlock Holmes could get away with just having a housekeeper and taking taxis, sure, but your character is supposed to be a KING?! Why is he answering his own front door? He's going to get assassinated. His SERVANTS should have SERVANTS.
Like, yes, I understand that a lot of servants in certain places at certain times were supposed to make their labor invisible, but there have always been servants who still had to interact directly with the masters of the house?! Yeah, there are potentially really messy ethics here, class divisions are bullshit, but I don't think that completely ignoring the reality that humans have ALWAYS been doing work for other humans is better than just including some well-paid and well-treated servants and employees? Because a complete absence of them, especially where logically for the worldbuilding there MUST be servants (and probably exploited servants, or worse, for some particular worldbuilds to work), often makes me think that your main characters just don't care enough to notice the "lower class" people or know their names.
Also, even Frodo Baggins had a gardener and Samwise Gamgee might be the best damn character in the story?! Sam saved the world?! Servants are PEOPLE. Servants are often the funniest and most interesting characters, tbh, with the most to say about a society and its workings (yes, Discworld is a very good book series, highly recommend), and also the joke of some romantic scene being carefully orchestrated by a stage crew of servants frantically diving into bushes to stay out of sight never gets old to me. Teamwork makes the dream work!
I don't want to gatekeep historical fiction, especially not historical fantasy, because the worlds don't necessarily have to conform to our own and may have magic and characters are often in very unique circumstances, but... sometimes I pick up a story and it's like... "Author, please tell me that you know there is a difference between a butler and a valet?!"
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skitskatdacat63 · 8 months
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Something about the boy king statue i find immensely funny:
It's so depressingly funny to me that in royal families, the first son is really the only child that's valued. And so that boy king statue I posted a while ago, that was created as a set along with another statue. The emperor, Leopold I, commissioned a set of statues of him and his first son, Joseph I, when he was elected as heir:
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But Joseph I didn't really end up emperor for too long because he died prematurely. So then his younger brother Charles VI becomes emperor. What does he do? Commissions the same exact artist, twenty years later, to make a statue of him in the same style. Bro was really healing his own childhood trauma 😭😭😭
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sttoru · 5 months
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‘no matter how much time the king of curses spends with you, he doesn’t think he will ever understand you or your affectionate behaviour towards him.’
☀︎|tags. true form sukuna x female reader. heian era sukuna. fluff. bits of mentions of blood & murder. big size difference. cold-big-monster-having-a-small-soft-spot-for-a-single-human trope. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’. not proof read! let me know if you like my characterisation or not; it’s my first sukuna fic.
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a kiss on the cheek is one of the most innocent - yet apparently also the most difficult - things to do. it’s a small form of intimacy; not that hard to do. it’s really as simple as planting your lips on your beloved’s cheek. then all you do is retreat — maybe get a kiss on the cheek back from him. or on the lips.
“get moving. i’m not waiting all day for you.” sukuna grumbles. you had suddenly stopped in your tracks and the king of curses was confused as to what the reason might have been. the two of you had been walking through the courtyard for a few minutes now — well, you basically had to drag him out to take a little stroll together.
and now the same you was quiet. it bothered sukuna; you were always so chatty around him when it was just the two of you. he might have called you an ‘annoying brat’ for it, but he secretly enjoyed your company and voice.
“c-coming.” you reply in a quiet mumble, eyes glancing over at the monstrous frame that stood a few steps away. his dull yet sharp gaze was focused on you — like he was sizing you up. or rather: trying to figure out what’s wrong with the change in behaviour you showed.
sukuna watches you as you hurry over to his side again. he resumes walking, hands folded over each other under the material of his kimono.
though, he couldn’t yet let go of the fact that you were acting different around him. the king of curses’ suspicion only grew once he noticed how your fingers fiddled with your obi. you were anxious about something.
sukuna shakes his head slightly. some humans sure are difficult to understand, he thinks to himself. your happy yet reserved personality when you usually interacted with him had disappeared and made place for a nervous wreck. trying to figure out why made sukuna’s head hurt.
were you finally scared of him? like all other humans and curses were?
he doesn’t know why, but it felt like he would hate for such thing to happen. sukuna usually wouldn’t care if someone resents, fears or somehow even admires him. only you could make him think and care about such difficult and maybe even trivial things.
“uhm,” you break off his train of thoughts and his eyes are instantly on yours again, “may i do something really quickly?”
sukuna’s face doesn’t show any change in expression, but a small nod tells you everything you need to know. you clear your throat, “can you please lower your head towards me?”
lowering his head? oh, you got some guts. if anyone else had said that to him, sukuna would have obliterated them; there wouldn’t have been anything but red bloody dust left of their body.
but then again: it’s you. all exceptions the king of curses makes are for you.
sukuna slightly lowers his head to your level so you could do whatever you needed to. he’d be lying if he said that his curiosity wasn’t piqued. it always was when he was around you.
you gulp. it was time to do what you’ve longed to do ever since the beginning of your stroll: give the ryomen sukuna a kiss on the cheek. you don’t think he’d be mad—at least he never seriously gets mad at you. only to get a reaction out of you since your responses are always ‘intensely amusing’—as he says.
“go on.” sukuna’s breath hits your cheeks. he was so close—too close that it made you even more nervous in a way. as if you hadn’t even had your first kiss yet.
you swallow your fears and just go for it. your lips attach to his cheek in the fraction of a second—the speed of light—before they leave. it was right under his right set of eyes.
you take a step back and clear your throat. you try to escape the embarrassment of sukuna’s possible reaction by continuing your stroll, though were stopped by a strong hand firmly grabbing your forearm.
“where’d you think you’re going?”
sukuna’s deep voice echoes through your ears. you were surprised to hear the tone of it; almost soft. a tone sukuna uses on rare occasions: in your presence.
you turn your head around and smile sheepishly at the king of curses before you. he doesn’t return the same (not that you expected him to), however he does unexpectedly ruffle your hair for a split second. or at least he attempts to.
his large and warm palm lands on top of your head and he gives it a little and subtle shake. sukuna had seen you do a similar action to someone else before, thus he concluded that he could do it to you. maybe as a form of endearment or. . whatever you used it as.
he did find the way you tried to scurry away after giving him a kiss very adorable. even if he wouldn’t say so out loud.
“now, come along. we don’t have all day.” sukuna nonchalantly mutters after retracting his hand. it left as fast as it came, though you were still stunned at the slight show of affection the king of curses returned.
you instantly catch up to sukuna again—walking next to him as fast as your legs could take you. you were a bit more at ease after you got a positive reaction to your little kiss. it was a pity that he didn’t smirk or laugh at you—maybe mocked you like he usually would. but that head pat made up for it.
even if it did leave your hair a little disheveled.
you couldn’t properly see sukuna’s face, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips was undeniably there. even if it was for just a split second.
“how very interesting.” sukuna mutters under his breath so you wouldn’t catch on. he sighs and shakes his head, unable to keep out that memory of you looking so cute—standing on the tip of your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek with your comically small hand on his jaw line. he doesn’t know why he found that to be so thrilling.
you flutter your eyelashes. you were curious about what he might have commented on, “may i ask what you had just said? i didn’t quite hear it.”
a short second of silence hangs before sukuna tilts his head to the right to look down at you again; his face expressionless, but still having a hint of a grin on his lips.
“i said you better hurry before i gobble you up right this instant.” he replies, (playfully) intimidating you with his sharp red eyes that glinted with a form of danger.
you shiver (though knew the threat was an empty one) and instantly pick up your pace. you even get ahead of him, walking as fast as your legs could. you answer with a curt ‘my apologies’ and walk like you actually have somewhere to be.
sukuna’s grin only grows as he sees you get ahead of him. if you had turned around, maybe you could have caught onto that light flicker of affection in his expression.
“i’m coming for you, little one.” sukuna adds just to ignite some more fear into you and you react as expected, “you’re not escaping me today.”
it was a funny sight; your reactions always make him enjoy his time with you even more than he already (secretly) was.
the way his body reacts in mysterious ways when you’re around, is still very much an unsolved riddle to the king of curses. and the reasons as to why you aren’t scared of him and can easily give him all your ‘love’ are also still yet to be discovered.
until then, sukuna will continue to enjoy teasing you.
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