#medieval stringed instruments | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darlingsblackbook · 4 months ago

Text

The princess and the fool

Jester!Gojo x Princess!Reader

Medieval Court AU

Summary : The halls of the castle are always cold. I have grown used to it, the chill, the silence, the feeling of existing yet never truly being seen. Then the jester arrives.

English is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any grammatical or spelling mistakes. Feel free to point them out but be kind with it♡

°•♡•°

The great hall is alive tonight.

The long tables overflow with food, the scent of roasted meats and spiced honey thick in the air. The golden chandeliers shine a warm glow over the gathered nobles, their laughter filling the room. Musicians play a lively tune, filling the air with the sharp trill of flutes and the deep hum of stringed instruments.

I sit at my place near the high table, not beside my father, nor near my brothers. Those seats belong to those with purpose. I am here because it is expected, nothing more.

Then, a voice cuts through the revelry.

"Ah, my lady of eternal gloom!"

The hall hushes, if only slightly, as heads turn toward the source of the voice.

I lift my gaze.

He stands in the center of the hall, a stark contrast to the muted elegance of the court.

Silver hair glows under candlelight, strands falling messily over his forehead, though I sense the disarray is intentional. His clothing-a jester’s garb in rich crimson and gold-is striking, adorned with delicate embroidery that glimmers when he moves. The bells at his sleeves and boots barely chime, as if he is too graceful to let them.

But his eyes...

His eyes are the most dangerous of all.

A shade of blue so bright they seem otherworldly, sharp with amusement yet unreadable beneath the weight of something deeper.

His grin is reckless, the kind that belongs to a man who has never known restraint.

"If I dare say," he continues, spreading his arms wide, as if addressing the entire court, "I have met ghosts with more cheer than you, oh princess of goom"

A murmur ripples through the gathered lords and ladies. Some chuckle behind their goblets of wine, while others glance at me, waiting to see how I will respond.

I say nothing.

I just hold his gaze

Then, as if nothing has happened, I lower my eyes back to my plate.

The moment passes. The court resumes its chatter. The musicians play again. The jester- whoever he is- laughs and continues his performance, spinning through the hall with charm.

But I can feel it.

Even as he entertains the crowd, his presence filling every inch of the room, those piercing eyes keep finding their way back to me.

And I can't helpt but wonder, what is it that he sees?

°•♡•°

I see him before he speaks.

It has been this way ever since that first night.

Whenever we are in the same room, his gaze seems to find me. Even when he is performing for the nobles, spinning tales and juggling goblets of wine without spilling a a single drop, I feel the weight of his attention.

I do not know why.

Perhaps he has taken it as a challenge: to crack the stonefaced silent princess, to pry a laugh from lips that rarely part.

Perhaps he is simply a fool.

His laughter echoes through the great hall again and I can not seem to withhold myself from lifting my gaze in the direction of the sound. His eyes almost seemed to glimmer in the warm glow of the chandelier suspended above the table. Lips pulled in a wide grin, his teeth-fangs- almost seemed to glint as if sending off a warning to stay away.

His head shifted and tilted to the side, I moved my gaze up to realize he had caught me admiring him. The jester did not seemed to mind though, he only blinked one eye in a quick wink.

What a fool.

°•♡•°

A week later, the feast is the same as always. Lords and ladies drink, their voices growing louder after every emptied goblet. Musicians pulling their strings until their fingers ache, the servants moving between tables like shadows, unseen, unnoticed.

My eyes swept over the great hall once, then another time, and again. I scanned every and each indivudal, but what was I looking for, really?

White locks, shimmering blue eyes and the faint sound of bells ringing.

My grip on my fork tightened until I could almost feel the heavy metal bend under my hold. What am I thinking? I released a breath I had not realized I was holding as the realization dawned on me. I had unconsciously been looking for-

A heavy sigh, exaggerated and drawn out, cuts through my thoughts.

I know it is him before I even turn.

"Ah, woe is me!," he laments, dramatically collapsing onto the floor beside my chair. A few nobles turn to watch the spectacle, curious. He places a hand over his heart, as if pained beyond reason. "My suffering knows no end!"

I raise one eyebrow as I lift my goblet and take a slow sip of my wine.

"If only—" he gasps, lifting his head to meet my gaze. "If only the princess of eternal gloom would spare me a glance, perhaps my shattered heart might mend just a little."

I do not indulge him.

He groans and lets his head fall back against the floor, arms spread as though he has perished on the cold stone. "No?" he mutters, voice full of despair. "Not even a glance? Not even the tiniest flicker of pity?"

Someone kicks him.

"Get up, fool," one of the knights mutters.

The jester lifts his head, feigning deep betrayal. "Even the knights have turned against me! Tell me, is there no love left in this world?"

But I simply set my goblet down and say, "Not for you it seems."

A collective murmur ripples through the court, amusement laced with intrigue.

The fool freezes for a fraction of a second.

Then he grins.

His suffering deepens—his body crumpling as if my words have physically wounded him. "A cruel, heartless woman! How ever shall I survive this torment?" He turns his gaze to the ceiling. "Perhaps I shall wither away. Perhaps the weight of my unrequited love will drag me to an early grave—"

"You would not be so lucky," I interrupt.

He falters.

Then, laughter bursts from his lips, loud and unrestrained. His whole body shakes with it, delight sparking in his impossibly blue eyes. He presses a hand to his chest, shaking his head.

"You wound me," he gasps between chuckles. "And yet—I think I adore you even more for it."

Fool.

I should not entertain him.

I should not allow him to pull me into whatever ridiculous game he has started.

But the corners of my lips twitch.

Just slightly.

But his gaze sharpens, as if he has caught me in the act.

He does not let me go so easily.

°•♡•°

He seems to always find me.

It does not stop at feasts.

If anything, he is worse outside of them.

I do not know how he does it, how he appears in the most unexpected places at the most ridiculous times.

But somehow, he does.

The first time, I am in the library.

The towering shelves stretch high above me, filled with books older than the castle itself. I am searching for a particular volume, my fingers trailing over the worn spines-

When a deep sigh echoes through the chamber.

"Truly," The jester laments from somewhere behind me, "this heartbreak will be the end of me."

I do not turn. "If you are here for pity, you will not find it amongst books."

He appears beside me in an instant, leaning against the shelf with a lazy grin. "No? I thought perhaps I’d find some poetry on tragic love to soothe my pain." He glances at the books. "Or a guide on how to win the heart of a cold and distant princess."

I pull a book from the shelf and hand it to him. "How to disappear, completely."

The jester takes the book from my hands, glancing at the title.

Then he looks at me.

Then back at the book.

His grin widens.

"Ah," he muses, flipping it open dramatically. "A personal recommendation. How cruel you are, princess. Do you long for my absence so dearly?"

I return to scanning the shelves. "I long for silence."

"And yet, you keep speaking to me."

I do not offer that with a response.

He leans closer, dropping his voice as if sharing a secret. "You know, if you wish to disappear, you could always run away with me. I happen to be very good at sneaking out completely unnoticed."

I glance at him then, just briefly. "A jester and a runaway princess. How original."

"Mm, you’re right," he sighs, pretending to reconsider. "Perhaps we should fake our deaths first. Make it dramatic. You can even pick how we go."

"Poison."

The word leaves my lips so quickly, so flatly, that for a moment, he blinks at me.

And then he bursts into laughter.

It echoes through the grand library, far too loud for the sacred quiet of this place. I should tell him to lower his voice.

But I don’t.

Because despite myself, I feel something stir in my chest at the sound of his carefree laugh.

Something dangerously unfamiliar.

Gojo holds the book against his heart. "I shall cherish this gift of yours, my gloomy princess. A token of your deep and unspoken love."

"Then I shall expect you to vanish by morning."

He gasps, clutching his chest. "You wound me! Again! Just how many times must I die for your love?"

"You have survived this long," I say, taking a different book from the shelf and turning away. "Clearly, your suffering is not terminal."

His laughter follows me as I walk away.

And when I am far enough that I should not hear him anymore, he still calls after me.

"I shall suffer on, then! Only for you!"

It is not just the library.

Nor is it just the feasts.

He seems to find me everywhere.

In the courtyard, where I sit by the fountain, enjoying a rare moment of quiet.

Only to hear a dramatic splash behind me as he throws himself into the shallow water, arms spread wide. "I am drowning in sorrow!" he declares. "A love unreturned is a fate worse than death!"

"You are drowning in two feet of water," I say without looking up.

"In my sorrow," he corrects, laying flat in the fountain like a man lost at sea.

I shake my head, returning to my book. A maid walks by and pauses, looking between us with concern.

"Leave him," I say before they can ask. "He is beyond saving."

The fool gasps, lifting his head. "How cold!"

The servant wisely leaves.

And him, the fool that he is, remains in the water for another five minutes, waiting for me to acknowledge him.

I do not.

But the next time I pass by the fountain, I see something new. Something that had not been there before.

A tiny paper boat, floating lazily in the water.

When I unfold it, I find a simple message written inside.

I would not mind drowning a thousand times, over and over, if it meant I could be by your side.

~ Your fool

I do not know why he seeks me out, why he insists on drawing laughter from someone who has long since forgotten how to give it.

I do not know why, despite everything, I let him

But I do know this.

The castle has always been cold.

The halls have always been empty.

And I have always been unseen.

But then came the jester.

And no matter how I try to disappear, he will not let me. He keeps finding me. He keeps seeing me.

°•♡•°

The castle is quiet at this hour.

Most are asleep, lost in dreams or the silence of the night.

Not me.

And, it seems, not him.

I hear the footsteps before I see him. Light, unhurried, belonging to a man who walks as though the world lays in the palm of his hand.

I do not turn, even when I feel his presence settle beside me on the stone ledge of the tower balcony. The wind is gentle tonight, cool against my skin as I look out over the sleeping kingdom.

"You never sleep," the jester muses. His voice is softer now, quiet, stripped of its usual mischief.

"Neither do you," I reply.

He leans forward, arms resting against his knees. "I sleep plenty."

"Liar."

A soft chuckle, but he does not argue.

For a while, both of us stay silent.

The air between us feels different tonight. Not tense, but something quieter, something softer. I do not know if it is the hour or the solitude, but for once, the Jester does not fill the silence with his usual laughter.

Instead, he tilts his head, looking at me with a strange kind of curiosity.

"You never call me by my name," he says suddenly.

I blink, caught off guard. "What?"

He smiles, but it’s not the grin he usually wears, it’s something smaller, something almost… shy. "You call me ‘fool,’ ‘jester,’ sometimes ‘idiot’ when you think I’m not listening."

"You are all of those things," I say, but my voice lacks its usual bite.

"And yet," he hums, "not once have you called me by my name."

I open my mouth, then close it.

Because he’s right.

I never realized that I do not call him by his name, it had not been intentional. Or maybe, subconsciously, I had never called him by his name to still keep a distance between us- so I would not let him too close to my heart.

The thought of saying it aloud feels… intimate.

More intimate than anything we have ever done.

He watches me expectantly, his usual playfulness dimmed into something more patient.

And maybe it is the night, or the way the world feels impossibly small on this tower ledge, but-

"...Satoru."

The name feels unfamiliar on my tongue.

Satoru's eyes widen slightly, and for the first time since I have met him, he looks startled.

But the surprise fades quickly, melting into something impossibly soft. "Again," he says.

I shake my head, looking away. "No."

"Please?"

I close my eyes. "Do not push your luck."

A breath of laughter, and then,

"Come with me."

I turn to him, confused. "...What?"

"Let’s leave," he says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. "You and me. Run away. Disappear."

I snort. "You are ridiculous."

"I’m serious.", His voice holds no humor.

I look at him then, truly look at him, and I see it, the absence of laughter in his gaze. The rawness in his expression. The way his fingers twitch against the stone as if he is holding something back.

He is serious.

The weight of it settles in my chest, something heavy and unfamiliar. I do not know how to hold it.

"Why would I leave?" I ask quietly.

"For the same reason I would," he says, and I hate that he says it like I should already know.

Like the answer has always been there, unspoken between us. I search his face, trying to make sense of this, of him, of the impossible thing he is asking of me.

"Do you know why I became a jester?" he asks suddenly.

The question catches me off guard.

Gojo exhales, leaning back slightly, gaze drifting toward the stars. "Because I wanted to laugh," he says simply. "Because I wanted others to laugh. Because laughter makes the world feel lighter, even when it isn’t."

He looks at me again, and this time, I see something deeper in his eyes.

Something sad.

"But you… you never laugh."

I turn away. "Some people are not made for laughter."

"That’s not true," he says, his voice too soft, too kind. "I’ve seen it, you know. The way your lips twitch when you fight a smile. The way your eyes crinkle when you think no one is watching."

My chest feels tight.

"I could make you laugh," he continues, quieter now. "Every day. Every night. Until death do us part, and even then, I’d haunt you just to make you laugh."

A broken little huff escapes me. "You would be an insufferable ghost."

"Yes," he agrees easily. "But I’d be yours."

I close my eyes. It is too much.

Too much.

"Satoru…"

The way his name leaves my lips feels like a plea. For him to stop. For him to continue.

For something I do not have the words for.

But Gojo just smiles, tilting his head.

"See?" he murmurs. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

I shake my head, not knowing if I want to laugh or cry.

But he doesn’t push further.

He doesn’t ask again.

He just reaches out, slow enough for me to pull away-

But I don’t.

His fingers brush my wrist, warm and steady. And in the quiet of the night, with the whole world sleeping below us-

Two lost souls finally become whole.

192 notes · View notes

what-even-is-thiss · 6 months ago

Text

What’s interesting to me about Jaskier in the Witcher tv show is that he plays a lute but they also had him sing in a very modern style.

Like pull up “Toss a Coin to Your Witcher” right now and listen to it. The instrumental becomes more modern sounding as the song does on and Joey Batey sings like he’s on a movie soundtrack.

I think this is a very good thing actually. I think it’s fun that they didn’t even try to make the bard character try to sound even a little bit medieval. Yes dude hit those high notes and bring in an invisible string chorus love that for you

173 notes · View notes

dalliancekay · 9 months ago

Text

Singing

I feel, we as a fandom, don’t talk enough about Aziraphale's singing.

Maybe he's not much into whatever pop/rock sensation is currently in most humans earphones*, but we know that he used to be a music tutor and therefore surely knows many great tunes.

On top of that, his music taste isn't as ancient as some might think... yes he likes classical music, but contrary to some opinions of it, not all of it is from 18th century. The symphony (number 5) he buys from Maggie at the beginning of S2 was written in 1937 by Dimitri Shostakovich who had a turbulent life (it being the 1930s AND trying to survive in Stalin's cruel regime).

The piece the Bentley plays for Azi when he asks for music on his way to Edinburgh is one of my favourite pieces of music called Danse Macbre by Saint-Saëns, the opening of which Wikipedia describes thus:

The piece opens with a harp playing a single note, D, twelve times (the twelve strokes of midnight) which is accompanied by soft chords from the string section. The solo violin enters playing the tritone, which was known as the diabolus in musica ("the Devil in music") during the Medieval and Baroque eras, consisting of an A and an E♭—in an example of scordatura tuning, the violinist's E string has actually been tuned down to an E♭ to create the dissonant tritone.

Aziraphale is also clearly aware of the film and the music + songs from The Sound of Music (1965) and Aziraphale, living in Soho as he does, I bet is a great lover of not just drama in theatre, but also musicals.

Therefore it is not a huge reach to conclude he would knows some fabulous songs to sing while making himself a pot of tea and a cup of coffee for Crowley on one the countless idyllic mornings in their cottage. Nor is it a stretch to assume that he loves to sing Crowley to sleep, playing with his hair as he does so, much like we all love to see in art and fics that this wonderful fandom provides.

So my question is, what does Aziraphale love to sing? Is it Maria from West Side Story? Singing in the Rain?

Does he love Jesus Christ Superstar (much like he loves his collection of misprinted Bibles)? Did he and Crowley go see Hamilton?

I also think they would have a huge collection of instruments in their cottage, perhaps even a beautiful grand piano... that, of course, they both can play. *but neither is the Bentley, who plays Queen to Crowley basically indiscriminately, even though he tries to play other things when driving. Whether he tried to play music in his car before the 70s, I'm not sure we know?

#good omens #good omens meta #just let me dream ok #south downs cottage #singing #music #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens thoughts #kaypost

231 notes · View notes

felassan · 2 months ago

Text

Corvus Corax (band) official website blog post: 'Corvus Corax Brings a New Sound Dimension to the Dragon Age Universe – Collaboration with Hans Zimmer and Lorne Balfe for Dragon Age: The Veilguard'

"Berlin, 2020 – The medieval band Corvus Corax is renowned for its unique sound that blends historical tones with modern musicality. Now, the “Kings of the Minstrels” are expanding their artistic repertoire by contributing to the world of video game music. Esteemed composers Hans Zimmer and Lorne Balfe, known for their epic soundtracks, have invited Corvus Corax to work on the soundtrack for the latest installment of the fantasy game Dragon Age: The Veilguard. 14th Street Music, the production company behind the project, approached the band in 2020 with the idea of having Corvus Corax completely reinterpret the orchestral soundtrack for Dragon Age: The Veilguard with their own instruments. The goal: to create an unmistakable, archaic-magical soundscape for the game, working alongside numerous collaborators, unlike anything previously experienced in the gaming industry. After months of work and drawing on a vast repertoire of historical and traditional instruments like bagpipes, shawms, and drums, Corvus Corax succeeded in crafting a wholly new dimension of “orchestral” music. In their version, medieval fantasy sounds replace traditional orchestral instruments, merging with the epic world of Dragon Age. This unique sonic experience lends the story and adventures in The Veilguard extraordinary depth and authenticity. This collaboration sets new standards, demonstrating that medieval sounds and video game music can harmonize in powerful ways. Through its fusion of cinematic sound aesthetics and medieval musical culture, Dragon Age: The Veilguard promises an unparalleled experience – a must for fantasy and music lovers alike."

[source, via]

"We got a call from Lorne Balfe, he is working together with Hans Zimmer. And they asked us if we want to work together on the new Dragon Age soundtrack. And the idea was that we play everything, all instruments was our own instruments, so there are no strings and brass instruments. Everything is played by us. It was very very interesting." // "Orchestral sound only with our mediaeval instruments was really exciting and awesome result." // "It was so much fun. It was not our first time, though we had worked with other companies as well in the past, but we definitely want to do that in the future, more and more."

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

53 notes · View notes

literaryvein-reblogs · 5 months ago

Text

Writing Notes: Classical Music Eras

Classical Music - describes orchestral music, chamber music, choral music, and solo performance pieces, yet within this broad genre, several distinct periods exist. Each classical era has its own characteristics that distinguish it from classical music at large.

Eras of Classical Music

Musicologists divide classical music into historical eras and stylistic subgenres. One way to examine classical music history is to divide it into 7 periods:

Medieval period (1150 to 1400): Music has existed since the dawn of human civilization, but most music historians begin cataloging classical music in the Medieval era. Medieval music is known for monophonic chant—sometimes called Gregorian chant due to its use by Gregorian monks. In addition to singing, Medieval musicians played instrumental music on instruments like the lute, the flute, the recorder, and select string instruments.

Renaissance period (1400 to 1600): Renaissance-era music introduced polyphonic music to wide audiences, particularly via choral music, which was performed in liturgical settings. In addition to the lute, Renaissance musicians played viol, rebec, lyre, and guitar among other string instruments. Brass instruments like the sackbut and cornet also emerged during this era. Perhaps the most notable Renaissance composers were Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina, John Dowland, and Thomas Tallis.

Baroque period (1600 to 1750): During the Baroque era, classical music surged forward in its complexity. The Baroque era saw a full embrace of tonal music—music based on major scales and minor scales rather than modes—and it maintained the polyphony of the Renaissance era. Many of the instruments used by today's orchestras were common in Baroque music, including violin, viola, cello, contrabass (double bass), bassoon, and oboe. Harpsichord was the dominant keyboard instrument, although the piano first emerged during this era. The most renowned composers of the early Baroque era include Alessandro Scarlatti and Henry Purcell. By the late Baroque period, composers like Antonio Vivaldi, Dominico Scarlatti, George Frideric Handel, and Georg Philipp Telemann achieved massive popularity. The most influential composer to come from the Baroque era is Johann Sebastian Bach, who composed extensive preludes, fugues, cantatas, and organ music.

Classical period (1750 to 1820): Within the broad genre of classical music exists the Classical period. This era of music marked the first time that the symphony, the instrumental concerto (which highlights virtuoso soloists), and the sonata form were brought to wide audiences. Chamber music for trio and string quartet was also popular during the Classical era. The signature classical composer is Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, although he was far from the only star of the classical era. Joseph Haydn, Franz Schubert, and J.S. Bach's sons J.C. Bach and C.P.E. Bach were also star composers during this period. Opera composers like Mozart and Christoph Willibald Gluck developed the operatic form into a style that remains recognizable today. Ludwig van Beethoven began his career during the Classical era, but his own innovations helped usher in the next musical era.

Romantic period (1820 to 1900): Exemplified by late-period Beethoven, the Romantic era introduced emotion and drama to the platonic beauty of Classical period music. Early Romantic works like Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 set a template for nearly all nineteenth-century music that followed. Many of the composers who dominate today's symphonic repertoires composed during the Romantic era, including Frederic Chopin, Franz Liszt, Felix Mendelssohn, Hector Berlioz, Robert Schumann, Johannes Brahms, Anton Bruckner, Gustav Mahler, Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky, Richard Strauss, Jean Sibelius, and Sergei Rachmaninoff. Opera composers like Richard Wagner, Giuseppe Verdi, and Giacomo Puccini used Romanticism's emotional power to create beautiful melodic lines sung in Italian and German. The Romantic era also saw the creation of a new instrument in the woodwind family, the saxophone, which would gain special prominence in the century to come.

Modern period (1900 to 1930): The Modern era of art and music came about in the early twentieth century. Classical composers of the early twentieth century reveled in breaking the harmonic and structural rules that had governed previous forms of classical music. Igor Stravinsky defiantly stretched instruments to their natural limits, embraced mixed meter, and challenged traditional notions of tonality in works like The Rite of Spring. French composers like Claude Debussy and Maurice Ravel led a subgenre of twentieth-century music called Impressionism. Others like Dimitri Shostakovich, Paul Hindemith, and Béla Bartók stuck with classical forms like the piano concerto and the sonata, but challenged harmonic traditions. Perhaps most radical was the German composer Arnold Schoenberg who, along with disciples like Alban Berg and Anton Webern, disposed of tonality altogether and embraced serial (or 12-tone) music.

Postmodern period (1930 to today): The art music of the twentieth century shifted starting in the 1930s and continuing into the post-World War II era, ushering in a style of music that is sometimes called postmodern or contemporary. Early purveyors of postmodern music include Olivier Messiaen, who combined classical forms with new instruments like the ondes martenot. Postmodern and contemporary composers like Pierre Boulez, Witold Lutoslawski, Krzysztof Penderecki, Henryk Górecki, György Ligeti, Philip Glass, Steve Reich, John Adams, and Christopher Rouse have blended the lines between tonal and atonal music, and they’ve blurred the lines between classical music and other forms like rock and jazz.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#classical music #writing notes #music #writeblr #history #writing inspiration #writing reference #writing ideas #literature #writers on tumblr #worldbuilding #dark academia #spilled ink #classic #writing prompt #creative writing #writing resources

95 notes · View notes

lainalit · 14 days ago

Text

Propaganda I won't fall for is that Rhysand, instead of Tamlin, sent feyre the music utm that she heard when she was in her cell

And It's pretty easy to prove since we know the music piece SJM had in mind for this since she mentioned it in her old newsletter

also the re-tilted track name is such an obvious rewrite since she admitted in the newsletter that she rewrote the second & third book

youtube

Beethoven's Symphony No. 7 has these instruments listed on Wikipedia

Also I need to point out that the fiddle and violin are the SAME instrument since the majority of the fandom still don't know that

Some might say, "Yeah, of course the music Feyre received is classical since ACOTAR is set in a vague medieval/victorian era," and they'd be right. But SJM specifically chose the second movement know as Alegretto, which is written and performed by the strings

what is also interesting is the wording from George Grove with the way the strings playing each other melodies like they are afraid of losing hold of each other

Mixed with the fact that the only named known string player the readers know in all of the series is Tamlin, it is pretty evident that SJM intended for Tamlin to be the one who sent Feyre the music UTM, but she just retconned it in acomaf

#all the subtext and forshadowing SJM did in the first book in regards of the music she just ctrl z deleted in the second book #because she found rhysand so hot that she can't even give tamlin a simple act of kindness to feyre since that would make tamlin look good #and rhysand's action in utm would all be just self serving and we can't have that for the endgame mmc #also as someone who plays two instruments #the fandom trying to gaslight people into believing that playing an instrument is in ick is such hobbyless loser behaviour #sjm critical #acotar critical #anti sjm #anti acotar #anti rhysand #pro tamlin #Youtube

43 notes · View notes

cripplecharacters · 3 months ago

Note

Hi there!! I have an oc with a unilateral complete cleft lip & palate and I wanted to know if there’s anything I haven’t considered that I should think about or if there’s anything I got wrong / that should be changed! The oc in question was created for a medieval fantasy game’s setting but one with with easily accessible healing magic, so I’m saying they went through a relatively modern timeline of surgeries with the help of healing magic - cleft lip and palate repair, bone grafts, etc. I’ve made the decision not to have them have any revisions or rhinoplasty, in part because I don’t think the magical healing would be able to achieve the precise effects of modern plastic surgery and without modern surgical knowledge it wouldn’t be perfect, so their lip has clear scarring & a little gap where their lips meet & their nose is uneven. The character in question is the charming bard/spy archetype. I wanted them to be a fat disabled queer who’s pretty as hell and knows it. I’m not grappling with disfiguremisia in their story and they have a very healthy relationship with their appearance. They’re also not the only oc I have with a facial difference, of the other two ocs I made for their game (who they’re allied with) both have battle scars and one has albinism & nystagmus, and their mentor is heavily scarred and is missing an eye & some fingers. I might also give them a childhood friend with a cleft lip as well. Basically they do have community, which I know is something this blog mentions a lot.

I also wanted to consider how their cleft would impact them beyond just the visible difference. They have a slightly hypernasal voice, difficulty with super crunchy/overly spicy foods, hearing loss leading them to use an enchanted hearing aid (I’m HoH myself, I’m basically writing it as identical to a modern hearing aid but powered by magic), reduced movement in their upper lip from the scarring, and some breathing difficulties due to their nasal airway being a little squished down (so I had them play string instruments rather than woodwind or brass for this reason). Is there anything else I should consider with regards to the impacts of their cleft lip/palate that I haven’t, or anything that needs fixing? Tysm in advance for your time and thoughts !! ❤️

2/2 AH. Cleft lip bard anon - I forgot to add that the character in question is also missing a tooth around her cleft and has some crookedness / crowdedness going on, I didn’t forget the oral/dental component (I missed that lmao, I have a high arched palate with teeth fuckiness so I give most of my ocs imperfect teeth so I just didn’t think of it until now)

Hey!

I think you have a well researched character going on. A lot of the results/complications they have do sound like something a person with an imperfect repair surgery would have!

Other things you could do are honestly optional, since you're already doing a lot to make it clear that it's not an aesthetic choice. One thing that could be important for a bard character is difficulty with whistling (I never met anyone with a cleft lip that could, which is very much anecdotal) and the nasality of their singing, though there's actual research claiming that for people with cleft lips, the hypernasal tone actually decreases while singing (as opposed to regular speech). So it could be a neat detail to add.

Since your story doesn't deal with disfiguremisia, I don't really have any general advice for facial differences. But it's obviously great that there's more than just one character :)

TLDR: this sounds like a well researched character, and you clearly took their job into account while doing said research. Unless you're trying to write a story about having a cleft lip/palate, you're probably good already.

Followers with cleft lip/and or palate are welcome to add on :)

mod Sasza

#Sorry I took so long to answer this one🙏🙏 it got lost in the drafts...#mod sasza #anonymous #face difference

47 notes · View notes

polaritydisturbed · 1 day ago

Text

I know it would drive Murray Gold further into the abyss than he’s already been dragged, BUT what if the Doctor Who theme changed every episode to match the musical instrumentation of whatever time period they’re in??

Like. Gregorian chant remix for medieval episodes. Lute-core. Renaissance string quartet for 1600s drama. Wild west banjo version. Funky synth-drenched 80s alien mall vibes. A harpsichord-only baroque banger.

I just heard a medieval cover of the theme and I cannot go back. I want this. I need this. Murray would be on the floor frothing but we would be fed.

#doctor who #doctorwho #the doctor #Murray Gold

53 notes · View notes

pallysuune · 4 months ago

Text

Primarchs and hobbies

Everyone can benefit from hobbies. I'm trying to think of what hobbies our boys would do or enjoy. Some of them are obvious, but here's what I'm thinking so far: Lion: bone carving, wood carving.

Fulgrim: possibly painting, but also embroidery, and jewelry making. He likes to try his hand at a lot of things.

Perturabo: ???

Jaghatai: calligraphy and ink painting.

Russ: writing (mostly poetry), wood carving.

Dorn: putting together miniatures and dioramas.

Curze: tanning. Pretty sure that one's canon. Drawing.

Sanguinius: painting and illumination (medieval illumination, not the animation company.)

Ferrus: ???

Angron: ???

Guilliman: gardening, pottery making.

Mortarion: gardening, weaving/knitting.

Magnus: reading, obviously.

Horus: Does gossip count as a hobby?

Lorgar: book binding.

Vulkan: guitar or similar instrument (he makes his own strings).

Corvus: sewing, beading.

Alpharius/Omegon: make up, sewing, costuming (not work related, prank related)

I tried to keep them to the realm of 'things done after a hard days work' more than, like, their canonical crafts (blacksmithing for Vulkan, for example). I'm stuck on Perty, Ferrus, and Angron. Can you guys think of any more?

#corgi things #primarchs #i need Morty knitting a sweater.

40 notes · View notes

msriri030 · 1 month ago

Text

The Black Knight ( Nulla x reader)

Medieval au. I tried lol. I hope you like it. Masterlist

Golden chandeliers cast a warm, ethereal glow from above, their crystal facets refracting light like stardust across the grand ballroom. The high, vaulted ceiling was a masterpiece in itself, painted with celestial portraits of the night—galaxies, constellations, and glowing moons in delicate hues of indigo and silver. The air shimmered with the soft hum of string instruments and the laughter of nobles who danced and schemed beneath the candlelight.

The floor teemed with a kaleidoscope of silks, velvets, and jewels. Nobles paraded their wealth in hopes of catching the eye of Bishop Septem, who would soon name the four chosen to stand beside Emperor Unum as royal consorts. Others traded veiled words and wine-soaked promises, hoping to forge power in the form of strategic alliances.

To Sir Nulla, the decorated knight of the empire, it was all meaningless noise.

He slipped away from the celebration, retreating to a balcony that overlooked the palace gardens. The cool air of the night caressed his face, far more genuine than the false warmth offered by the sycophants inside. The stars above seemed infinitely more honest than any noble he had spoken to that evening.

He rested his hands on the marble railing, gaze lost among the constellations.

Emptiness. Nonsense. Nothingness.

The feelings coiled tight inside his chest, familiar and bitter.

“I am nothing,” he whispered to the night. “Nothing but a walking corpse in polished armor.”

He had seen too much, done too much. The blood on his hands would never be fully washed away by victory parades or medals.

Just then, a voice—soft and almost melodic—broke through his thoughts.

“Oh? I thought I spotted someone who felt the same way I did.”

He turned quickly, his eyes narrowing out of reflex, ready to scold whoever had dared disturb him.

But then he saw you.

You stood at the threshold of the balcony, bathed in moonlight like a vision from a dream. Your attrite, a radiant shade of yellow, shimmered as though woven from sunrise itself. Delicate floral embroidery bloomed along its hem, catching the breeze as if alive. Your eyes held a curious warmth, something unafraid, something real.

His irritation evaporated in an instant. His jaw slackened, and a faint blush touched his tan cheeks. For a moment, all words failed him.

“May I join you, sir?” you asked, stepping onto the balcony with a small smile.

“N-Nulla!” he blurted, flustered. He coughed to recover his dignity, then straightened his posture and extended his hand. “Pardon me… My name is Nulla. And yours, if I may be so bold?”

“(Y/n), Sir Nulla,” you replied, placing your hand delicately in his.

He took it as though it were made of glass, brushing his lips to your knuckles in a gesture so tender it startled even him. Your eyes widened, surprised by the gesture, but you didn’t pull away.

A small, rare smile played across his lips. “Just Nulla is fine, mi flor.”

His voice was low and reverent, as if he were addressing something sacred. And perhaps, to him, you were. For the first time in years, the darkness within him stirred—not in anger, but in longing.

And somewhere between the candlelit chaos behind him and the stars above, the man who had thought himself a corpse felt his heart beat again.

Your fingers lingered lightly in his, neither of you in any rush to pull away. The distant music from the ballroom filtered out onto the balcony, but here in the cool night air, it felt like another world entirely—one you both didn’t quite belong to.

“See, Nulla… you speak with such melancholy,” you said, your voice soft, like a lullaby carried on the breeze. You stepped to his side, gazing down at the palace gardens, their hedges and roses glowing faintly under the moonlight. “I can’t help but wonder what pain you carry. If I can aid one of the emperor’s most loyal knights, even a little…”

His smile wavered, that ever-present sorrow flickering in his eyes like a dying candle. He didn’t respond right away, instead letting silence bloom between you as he looked up toward the stars.

“Mi vida,” he finally said, his voice quiet but rich with emotion, “I carry a great weight. Regret, sacrifice… things that can never be returned. It is the price I pay.”

You frowned, your expression softening with concern. Your eyes searched his face—he was handsome, yes, but the true beauty came from something buried beneath that stoic surface, a haunted nobility shaped by wounds you couldn’t yet name.

He seemed to notice your sadness and reached forward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered there, gentle. “But I would pay that price a thousand times over… if it means protecting people like you from ever knowing that same pain.”

“Foolish knight,” you muttered, looking away with a small pout as heat crept into your cheeks. You hadn’t meant to be swept up in this—your father had practically dragged you to the gala, hoping you'd charm some noble into a political marriage. And yet here you were… captured by a knight with tired eyes and a warrior’s heart.

Nulla chuckled, low and deep, and leaned closer to steal a glance at your expression. “I think you’re the foolish one.”

You arched a brow. “Oh? How so?”

He turned his attention back to the ballroom, his gaze settling on the emperor, who sat high in his gilded chair, his three wives gathered around him like stars orbiting a sun. Servants and nobles danced to win favor. “You aren’t like the others. You’re not trying to catch the emperor’s eye. Don’t you find all this… exhausting? The politics, the performance?”

You tilted your head, considering his words. “Hmm… I don’t find him annoying, but he doesn’t catch my attention either.”

Nulla blinked, then looked at you sidelong. “Then what does?”

You smiled, just enough to tease. “Someone like you, I guess.”

His breath caught, and he looked away quickly, color rising to his cheeks. “Idiot…” he murmured, but the word held no real bite—only flustered warmth.

He stiffened subtly as he caught sight of movement near the ballroom doors. Bishop Septem stood there, watching them. For a moment, their gazes locked. The bishop's expression was unreadable, but there was something calculating in his eyes before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Nulla’s jaw tensed, and he dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Something wrong?” you asked, voice quiet.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he offered you a strained smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The stars shine brightest before they burn out… Sometimes, I wonder if I’m already fading.”

You reached for his hand again. “Then I will make sure you don’t.”

And for the first time in many years, the knight who believed he had no heart… felt it stir again. As if it fears something precise that needs to be let go.

Nulla looked at your hand in his, his grip loose at first before he tightly his grip. He wants nothing more for you to stay by his side.

Forever.

He didn’t speak as you led him, hand in hand, back toward the gilded doors of the ballroom. But something inside him shifted—something ancient and aching, now ignited with dangerous warmth. The weight of his armor felt suddenly lighter with your touch, though his mind grew heavier with thoughts he couldn’t quite silence.

As you stepped onto the marble floor, music curling through the air like golden thread, you turned to face him, your smile soft and trusting. Too trusting.

Nulla held your hand with a quiet reverence, bowing low before pulling you into a graceful waltz. But behind his composed expression, something darker flickered beneath the surface.

Mine.

The word echoed like a vow inside his chest, a silent oath wrapping around his soul like chains forged of longing. He watched the way your eyes sparkled in the candlelight, how your laugh rang clear and untouched by the rot of court life.

He would protect that light. At any cost.

“You fit here,” he murmured as he spun you, your dress twirling like sunlight across the polished floor. “Too brightly. It makes me wonder if this place even deserves you.”

“And yet,” you whispered back, meeting his gaze, “here you are, dancing with me anyway.”

A muscle in his jaw tensed, but his voice remained low and tender. “Only because I can’t bear the thought of anyone else doing it.”

The orchestra swelled, but the world around him faded. There was only you. Only the fragile warmth you offered his cold, guarded soul. He knew then—whatever hollow had lived inside him was gone. In its place, something dangerous had bloomed.

Devotion. Possession. Love.

And as you smiled up at him, unaware of the storm quietly blooming behind his eyes, Nulla thought only one thing:

Even if I must burn with you in the end… so be it.

It wasn’t long before the grand hall began to quiet, anticipation hanging in the air like perfume. The main event was about to begin—the long-awaited announcement of Emperor Unum’s fourth and final spouse.

The orchestra fell silent. A hush rippled through the crowd as Bishop Septem stepped onto the dais, his crimson robes billowing like blood in water. Nobles and hopefuls gathered at the center of the ballroom, their jeweled eyes glinting with ambition, desperation, and dreams spun of gold.

You remained off to the side, tucked under the arching shadows of a marble pillar. Nulla stood beside you, arms crossed as he leaned against the cold stone, his dark armor gleaming faintly in the candlelight. Yet his attention wasn’t on the ceremony—it was on you.

His gaze lingered on the way your eyes lit with curiosity, the way your lips parted in wonder. The crowd could have erupted in flames, and he wouldn’t have noticed.

He leaned closer, voice low. “Let them scramble over each other like peacocks on parade.”

You chuckled, patting his arm. “It’s starting. Who do you think it’ll be?”

He exhaled through his nose with a scoff. “Probably some snouty rich prince or a simpering noble who bathes in perfume and gold. The type who’s never seen a battlefield, only ballrooms.”

He paused. His jaw tightened slightly.

“…As long as it isn’t you.”

You turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Did you say something?”

Nulla blinked, his expression smoothing over like silk. “Nothing, mi vida,” he said with a soft smile, though a storm brewed quietly in his heart.

He couldn’t lose you—not to the Emperor. Not to anyone.

As Bishop Septem began to speak, his voice rang with rehearsed grace, echoing off the marble walls of the grand ballroom. He listed titles, virtues, and praises with ceremonial flourish, yet all Nulla could hear was the pounding of his own heart.

The chandeliers above glowed like stars caught in a gilded cage. The scent of sweet wine, expensive perfumes, and candle smoke drifted through the air, mingling with the tension that clung to every guest like a second skin.

Beside you, Nulla stood stiff, shoulders tense beneath the polished armor that now felt like a coffin. His hand hovered beside yours, the back of his fingers barely grazing your knuckles. A touch that meant everything and nothing.

Please… he begged in silence, eyes closed for a breath. If any god walks among us, if fate has ears—listen to me now. Let them be mine. Let me have just this one thing in my cursed life. I ask for nothing else… just them.

But silence was the answer the stars gave him.

Bishop Septem’s cold, empty smile widened as he held a pristine white scroll between gloved fingers. “It is with great honor that I present to you… the fourth and final royal consort of Emperor Unum.”

The parchment unfolded with an elegant flick.

The name was read aloud.

“(Y/n) (L/N) of the Kingdom of Sol. Please step forward.”

Nulla’s world split open.

You froze. Time halted. Every pair of eyes turned to you, and the grand ballroom grew still, as if holding its breath. Even the music had died.

“No…” Nulla whispered, but his voice was too soft to reach anyone but the void.

You could feel your chest tighten. You weren’t a fool—you knew what refusal meant. You had seen what happened to those who said “no” to the empire. Death, disgrace, or the disappearance of your entire bloodline.

Your legs moved before your heart did, numb and mechanical. The crowd parted for you like waves parting for a sacrificial offering. The golden carpet underfoot suddenly felt more like a path to the gallows than a place of honor.

Emperor Unum stood waiting, tall and regal in silver-embroidered robes that glimmered like moonlight on a blade. His expression was serene, beautiful even, but utterly devoid of true warmth.

“Shall we dance?” he asked, his hand extended in a gesture practiced thousands of times before. As if you were just another name on a scroll. Another jewel in the crown.

Behind it all, hidden in the archway between ballroom and balcony, Nulla stood frozen, his fingers curled into trembling fists at his sides. His nails bit into his palm until they drew blood.

Not my vida… not like this.

His scream stayed inside him—silent, trapped in a chest that suddenly felt too tight to breathe.

No one noticed the way he slipped into the shadows.

No one except Bishop Septem.

The bishop’s eyes followed him as he vanished through the side halls, quiet and purposeful, like a shadow returning to the night. His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

Out beneath the moonlight, where only the wind bore witness, Nulla collapsed to his knees in the gardens. Silent tears streaked his face, each one born from the ache of a heart long thought dead.

They took you from me.

And from that hollow ache, something darker bloomed. Not sorrow—resolve.

It had been years since you married the emperor.

A vow formed beneath his breath, low and final:

“If I cannot have you, I will tear this empire apart to take you back.”

It wasn’t terrible—not in the way stories speak of tyrants and loveless beds—but it was hollow. A quiet ache nestled beneath every gilded moment, every courtly smile. You stood now on the palace balcony, eyes cast over the sprawling kingdom bathed in golden sunlight, yet your heart wandered far from its throne.

You missed him. Nulla.

That one night lived in your memory like a dream etched in gold, burning brighter with each passing year. He had vanished afterward, as if swallowed by the wind, and despite the life built around you, your heart still reached for his.

You sighed, letting the sun warm your face… just as the peace shattered like glass.

Smoke billowed into the sky—thick, black, violent—blotting out the blue in cruel strokes. Your breath caught. High above the palace, the emperor’s crest—a phoenix rising from flame—was engulfed in fire. It crackled mockingly before crumbling into ash.

Screams followed.

They echoed across the marble halls like a chorus of ghosts. From your high perch, you saw guards rushing to action, swords drawn, shields raised. Noblewomen fled in panicked clusters, their gowns trailing behind them like broken wings. Flames danced through drapes and banners. The heat licked at your skin even from afar as your white-knuckled grip clenched the balcony rail.

What is happening?

But deep down… you already knew.

That familiar emptiness in your chest—where longing had quietly nested all these years—twitched like a string pulled taut. And then, above the chaos, a name reached your ears. Whispered in terrified reverence by a fleeing servant:

“The Black Knight… he’s returned.”

Your heart stopped.

Nulla?

You stumbled back from the balcony, breath shallow, chest heaving. The guards outside your chambers were gone, called away by the turmoil. Alone, you crossed the room to the mirror, where a stranger stared back: adorned in jewels and imperial silk, but still—so unmistakably hollow.

With trembling hands, you tore the shawl from your shoulders, casting it aside.

Then the doors crashed open.

The sound thundered through your bones.

And there he stood.

Nulla.

But not the man you remembered.

Gone was the noble polish of a loyal knight. Blackened steel clung to his form like a second skin, jagged and unforgiving. A crimson mantle trailed behind him, soaked in smoke and blood. A cracked mask dangled from his belt. His eyes—once warm and filled with wonder—were colder now, sharper. Deadly.

But when they met yours… they softened.

Just for a moment.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, your name a sacred prayer. His voice was lower now, roughened by time and war. “You’re alive... you’re safe.”

You stepped forward, trembling. “Nulla… you’re here…”

He crossed the room in a heartbeat, as if distance itself bent to his will. His gloved hand cupped your cheek, metal brushing your skin—cold, but his touch still sent warmth flooding through your veins.

“I’ve waited,” he whispered. “I’ve burned for you, mi vida. And now…” He turned his head, gaze sweeping the distant chaos beyond your chamber walls. “Now I will burn this empire to the ground if it means I never have to be apart from you again.”

You stared at him—your heart’s only home, standing like a storm at the threshold of your royal life. The man you were told to forget had returned not as a memory, but as reckoning.

He searched your face, desperation cracking through his calm. “Will you come with me?” he asked, voice raw. “Will you leave this gilded cage… and run away with me?”

The world stilled.

Your heart answered before your lips could.

Tears welled in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks in quiet surrender. You nodded, voice breaking with emotion. “Yes, Nulla. Please.”

A rare, aching smile broke across his face—and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss wasn’t the stuff of fairytales. It wasn’t gentle or chaste. It was fierce. It was hungry. It was real. Years of yearning, of grief, of love never extinguished—collided in that one breathless moment.

He exhaled against your mouth like he’d been holding his breath since the day fate tore you apart.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmured, his forehead pressed to yours. “I thought they stole you from me… forever.”

You shook your head, hands fisting the blood-red cloth on his chest. “I never stopped waiting. Every day, I prayed you’d come back.”

Another explosion rocked the palace—deeper, louder this time. The golden sky was gone now, replaced by fire-red and smoke-black. The end of a dynasty painted across the heavens.

Nulla pulled back, urgency blazing in his eyes. “We don’t have long. The emperor’s elite will regroup any moment. I have to get you out—now.”

He took your hand—and you didn’t hesitate.

You kicked off your jeweled slippers, the cold marble sharp beneath your feet, but it grounded you in your choice. No more crowns. No more cages.

Only him.

You ran through the palace halls beside him—his cape trailing like shadow, his sword gleaming with menace. With every step, the life you once knew crumbled behind you.

Jewels. Thrones. Duty.

Gone.

Only the arms of your lover remained.

39 notes · View notes

brodingles · 20 days ago

Text

I just went down and massive rabbit hole (not the deepest I've ever been in but it surely is one)

I was trying to figure out what instrument Kristoff was playing in Reindeers Are Better Than People.

I tried to Google it and there was no true consensus. I got a ton of results from a mandola to a ukelele to yknow. A lute. Which most people seemed to agree it was just a poorly modeled lute.

Which doesn't make any sense to me. Making up an instrument in that stage and figuring out how he'd play it and how it would potentially sound is MORE work than giving the people doing the designing and modeling a real world reference. It would not make sense to give him a 100% fake instrument in a very short scene.

So I went digging, and almost went insane, because the more I looked at it the more it became clear it wasnt a lute.

This is a lute

This is what Kris is playing

Here's a clearer image

(I checked to see if it matched the instrument in the movie. It does EDIT: for the most part. The one in the movie doesn't have frets, but the one in the illustration does, which seems to be a mistake on part of the illustrator)

It has 3 pegs but 4 strings. Im going to focus on it having 4 singular strings, though, because the pegs may be explainable in another way.

I was about to absolutely lose it because I could not find a single instrument that matched it. It's not a Mandola, because it's TOO tear drop shaped, but it' not a normal lute either, and any more Scandanavian/ Nordic instruments derived from around the era or before doesnt match it either.

But then I went.

Cittern

That fifth one? It lookes super similar.

So, problem solved, right? It's a little bit of a wonky cittern. Case closed.

Except I dug some more for clarity.

And I noticed most cittern are pretty flat.

And this continued in every search. It was already hard to find one with 4 strings, but the shape? It still doesnt match.

But by accident, I stumbled upon a close, but technically entirely different instrument.

It is not a mandola, or a ukelele

It is not a cittern

And it aint a lute

It's most likely a 4 single stringed medeival/renaissance gittern.

It has the teardrop shape, wide circular body, uneven pegs, and would have been around in the era. It would be an old instrument that was out of style, but they hadn't fully faded into obscurity yet due to the lute's growing popularity, and Kristoff Bjorgman having a relatively old instrument tracks to me, given how he is as a person and the little we know about him pre-film. So "yeah I'd believe it."

Here's a video of the person who created the one with the red backdrop because I think it's cool and wanna shout them out. (And also to demonstrate how the instrument is played, which seems to match)

youtube

The movie sounds more like a guitar? But I'd be more willing to believe that than they just made up an instrument and had it played weirdly. We dont even use lion sounds for lions or eagles for eagles. An obscure stringed instrument is not out of the question.

The only thing making me still scratch my head is why it has 3 pegs with 4 strings, because I am having trouble finding any other instrument that has the previously stated requirements and that one as well. The head in the ones I sent is also not consistent with the one in the film, but lowkey I found paintings and photos of some with more similar heads so I'm not too pressed on that.

Timeframe wise the gittern was popular during the end of the medieval period and beginning of the Renaissance period, which means it was ripe for the Northern Renaissance which started in the area that Frozen aesthetically takes after.

This is my current hypothesis and I think it's worth noting and has some level of backing.

I am very tired, but I had to share this with the masses. I am going back in my hole.

#Disney Frozen #Kristoff Bjorgman #frozen #kristoff frozen #my hands are killing me but I needed to get this out #I was going to go insane because I got four differwnt instrument types and people scoffinf that rhe instrument #was just poorly executed or planned #it's JUST obscure #Youtube

19 notes · View notes