copperbadge:I’m working on a fic where for reasons* Aziraphale books himself and Crowley into a suit
copperbadge:I’m working on a fic where for reasons* Aziraphale books himself and Crowley into a suite at the Ritz London, and I was researching what sort of fancy digs the Ritz offers its patrons, and…wow. Most of the luxury suites are somewhere on the spectrum of “cluttered” to “actively hideous” but the Royal Suite, which is actually in a mansion attached to the hotel and will cost you a tidy $6.5K per night, really takes the cake for sheer opulent ugliness. It was every inch as hideous as Crowley had imagined; everything was flower-patterned, from the upholstered chairs to the weird non-curtains hanging in front of the windows. Gold tassels abounded. There was a painting of chunky, awkward-looking angels and enormously round horses on one wall. The lamps looked like someone’s grandmother had acquired them at a boot sale. “I know,” Aziraphale said over his shoulder. “A bit much even for me.”“Breathtaking,” Crowley managed. “Hell could take tips.” It’s so terrible. Oh how I love it. * Aziraphale has a houseguest staying in his flat and he refuses to go to Crowley’s because one night in the cavern you call a flat was enough for me and while Crowley was game to give seduction in the backseat of the Bentley a try, Aziraphale has plans, dear. -- source link