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sebastianswallows · 13 days

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The English Client — Five

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: Tom hurts himself like an idiot and tries to hurt reader like an idiot

— WORDCOUNT: 2.6k

When she returned the next morning, she didn’t have the sense that anything was wrong, even when she found the ledgers placed in the wrong order underneath her desk. It wouldn’t be the first time… So she followed her routine and spent the chill hours of the morning making coffee in the little kitchen in the back and finished a review of Pliny the Younger she’d begun two days ago.

It wasn’t until later, after lunch, when she went into the back rooms to put Pliny in his place that she realised something was definitely wrong. The carpet, usually so carefully smoothed over the trapdoor, was creased in a light wave, its yellow tassels ruffled. The table in the centre of the room was quite askew as well, the items on it shifted to the right. She froze, then rushed to check the hidden door.

But the door was safe. There wasn’t even a scratch on it… She placed her signet ring into the keyhole and it popped open with a click, just as it always did. She lifted it and stepped inside, down the steps that led into the tunnel. It was dark and quiet… Nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe she was the one who made that mess the last time she was there. She did tend to be a bit clumsy sometimes…

With a sigh of relief, she climbed back up, and as her face reached the level of the floor, something shiny underneath the table caught her eye. She got up and closed the door behind her, then crawled on her knees underneath the table to grab the foreign thing.

It was one of those fancy pocket knives with all sorts of uses… Red handle, stainless steel blade. Her heartbeat turned frantic and sweat cloyed at her hairline, and she felt her stomach drop — someone else had been there. And she’d have to report this. With brisque and heavy steps, she went back to her desk and picked the phone up.

“Hello?” she whispered once the Curator picked up. “It’s me, upstairs. Erm, has anything gone missing? What? Oh, n-no reason, just, I think we had a break-in and — No, it’s fine! Just — I don’t think so. Erm, did I call him? Not yet. I —”

She listened to the frustrated cursing of the man downstairs as she stared at the Swiss knife, turning it in her hands, her whole body tense and weak, when suddenly her frown melted away and lips parted. There were two letters inscribed into the blade: C. M.

“It’s someone with the initials C and M,” she said quickly. “Know anyone? No, I don’t either… Alright. Alright, I’ll call him now. Thank you.”

“Yes, it’s not much to go on, but —”

“There is no need,” scraped the voice from the other end of the line.

“What?”

“You said nothing was taken?”

“A-as far as I can tell… Downstairs is safe too.”

“Hm. Possibly something forgotten by a customer.”

“H-how can you be sure?”

“If it had been an intruder, you would not have found a knife,” he said. “You would have found a corpse.”

She frowned, not really understanding him but ready to accept this resolution.

“S-so, what would you like me to do?”

Silence on the other end. Perhaps he expected her to increase security, or just carry on as normal since he seemed so calm about it…

“Put a copy of Torchia on display.”

“What?!”

“If it really was a break-in, and it has to do with the auction, we will test the resolve of our thief.”

“Do you want that book or…”

“Yes. Ask Ambrogio,” he said, and in the background, she could hear the scratching sound of him writing something down.

“Alright, sir…”

The scratching persisted until he hung up on her.

III

Tom smiled against the receiver. He so hated telephones with their smooth plastic in unnatural colours, but they were faster than an Owl… Besides, muggles seemed to love them.

“Yes, if you could manage it, I’d be ever so grateful,” he drawled silkily, putting on the same boyish airs he did when meeting with another of Burke’s clients. “No no, not right now. I’ll tell you when. Is that alright? It is? Oh, wonderful. You know, I keep thinking of that hotel you mentioned. You were right about this one, it’s awful. Yes. Yes, I’ll consider it.”

He hissed a few more pleasantries and said goodbye. When it was over, he reached to the bedside table to hang up, but not without some difficulty. He sighed and rested his cheek against his long cold palm cushioned by the pillow. Tom was lying on his front on the narrow hotel bed, a pack of ice on his hip — just a few cubes tied up in a handkerchief. It did little to reduce the bruise that bloomed there, but at least it kept the swelling down. He could think of a dozen potions that would do much better than this, but he had none of the ingredients on hand. His own fault for leaving London without buying some supplies first…

He held the pack to him and got up gingerly, growling all the while. He should have been happy, he’d made a great deal of progress in finding where they held the book, even if the way was closed to him. And with a bit of luck, he might yet find a way to gain their trust.

Tom limped over to the window, a drop of water sliding down his naked leg. The sun was setting and the streets were filling up, frothing with white dresses and silk scarves. How he hated being around muggles…

He let the curtains close again and waved his wand to brew him a cup of tea. Fire spells were so useful even if you didn’t have your mind on arson. He was at least glad he’d brought some tea leaves with him, and could brew them at just the right temperature. The milk they served around these parts was also not so bad, and worked wonderfully with the brew. It soothed his nerves if nothing else.

He sat down in the armchair, legs askew, loose shirt covering him to his thighs, and picked up his notebook. At least he knew they had the Trevisan that he was after... It would make the perfect excuse to visit again — in a more overt manner.

Absentmindedly, he placed the ice pack on his lap, and immediately jumped up in his seat.

“Oh fuck! Cold!”

He growled and with a sharp flick of his wand transformed the pack into a pillow, and settled down again.

It should have delighted her that Frederico found the freedom to ask her out for lunch again. She sometimes thought she worked too many hours, but that impression faded when she heard from him. All Fred ever talked about was work. His shop was two streets away — not his of course, just as Casa Ur wasn’t hers — but he behaved as if it was his child sometimes, so dutifully he tended to it. She put it down to the speed with which she worked, as she was younger than most of the other book dealers in the city and less worn down by its pressures. But even she could not muster the endless enthusiasm of her friend.

Their lunches together had nothing romantic about them, they never did. He was a kind, soft-spoken man in his mid-forties, his skin just starting to sag around his cheeks, his forehead creased from frowning, brown eyes wet and tired behind a thick pair of glasses. The way he looked at her unnerved her sometimes, but then again, he seemed to look at everything that way…

He picked her up from Casa Ur and they went to a restaurant together, his paunch swinging before him and the sun shining brightly on the bald spot at his crown. He loved to talk, his high hoarse voice filling up the silence. She didn’t mind. She needed the company.

“And anyway, to prevent the shipment from being late, we found an old pathway they could take to avoid the flood, and they arrived five minutes before schedule,” he said, finishing the latest drama from his shop as they sat down at the restaurant across from the Fontana Trevi. “Can you imagine? Flooding, in the hottest summer on record?”

“Oh, last summer was even hotter.”

“You think so, but that’s not what they said on the weather report.”

“I think I’ll have carbonara,” she hummed, licking her lips. She loved the menu at this place…

“Hm? Oh, parmesan gnocchi for me, I think. With cream and garlic, oh yes… Wine for you?”

“No, I don’t think so. Just water.”

“Might be a while until they come around to us. So many tourists out today. Awful. Anyway, I wanted to tell you about the reason we found that route. Guess.”

“I don’t know,” she laughed.

“Guess, guess! Alright, so, it was our collection of Martinelli maps.”

“Fascinating. Oh, there’s a waiter! Scusi, cameriere!”

She hadn’t liked Fred when they first met two years before, but she’d gotten used to him. Or, she’d learned how to put up with him, allow herself to be carried on the wave of conversation that he wove. Now, it was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, eating in the open air, letting his enthusiasm drown her worries as he wagged his sausage fingers in the air to summon up the largess of the maps that saved his boss’ shipment.

Every one of their colleagues was different, each with their own flaws and problems — broken marriage, spiteful children, loneliness and illness and malaise — but they all carried the same passion for books. Books most people never heard of, books only obsessives cared about, books older than countries. They, few and a little insane, were together enchanted by their beauty.

So she could forgive Fred his childlike wonder, even during their lunch break, because the same passion smouldered, albeit very deeply, within her. It was what kept her going in spite of her loneliness, her anomie, and the drudgery of daily life.

“By the way, who’s coming at the next auction?”

“Most of the same,” she sighed, her breath fogging the half-empty glass of water. “A few new names this time. Foreign names. Can’t say I know any of them.”

“Must be invited by Oso.”

“Oh, I doubt he has the authority.”

“No, but you know how the Baron looks up to him.”

She chuckled, her lips pursed to stop a toothy grin. “Given his condition, it’s hardly surprising.”

“What do — Oh, you mean the… Oh, that’s quite cruel,” said Fred, his eyes two charcoal slits beneath the fat dark crinkles of a smile.

“Sorry, sorry…”

“But anyway, you know he could talk him into doing just about anything.”

“Maybe… Would you like to have some coffee before we go?”

“Sure,” he said. “I know you don’t really like talking about the auctions.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just that… just that…”

“Just that you don’t like it,” he laughed.

She was playing with her fork in the leftover sauce of carbonara while Fred waved a waiter over when she noticed from the corner of her eye a familiar contrast of black hair and deathly pallor. Was that Mr. Riddle? His eyes were hidden by shades and his full lips were pressed against the rim of a wine glass, but she was certain it was him. She turned before he spotted her.

While Fred kept droning on about another fascinating problem he’d had at work, she found her thoughts drifting, dreaming, and a soft smile blossomed on her face at just the memory of how good Tom looked the last time he was in her shop. Those dark curls falling over his eyes, how she longed to ease them back, to trace the sharp angles of his jawline, to kiss him… His lips looked so soft.

She sneaked another glance his way when the waiter took their plates. Leisure looked good on him, even if he seemed an amateur at it. A workaholic, perhaps, like her… He wore a pale green shirt today. The colour tasted sweet in her mind, like pistachio gelato. It was generously parted at the neck where his sweat was cooling, and underneath the table she could tell his legs were crossed, clad in sinfully tight silver-grey trousers.

“And once we had the original manuscript, we realised it referred to the Capuchin Catacombs, not the Parisian ones! My dear, are you listening?”

“What? Yes, the catacombs, of course,” she said, hiding her warm smile behind a cup of coffee.

The shop was more quiet than usual when Tom stepped in that day. That was to say, it was quieter than when he’d broken in. There was a tense silence to the place, one that slithered up his spine and settled pleasantly at the back of his brain.

He hadn’t missed the Torchia displayed in the window, in the centre of a carefully constructed swirl, holding court over far lesser volumes. In fact, it was the reason he had come.

“Buongiorno.”

“H-hello!” she called from behind her desk, getting up quickly enough to knock over a stack of papers when she noticed him.

“Didn’t expect to see me again, did you?” he grinned, sliding a hand casually in his pocket.

“Not really, no,” she chuckled. “How can I help you?”

Her eyes flitted to the window before coming back to him. She was expecting him to ask for the Delomelanicon again. She probably had a whole little script ready once he did. As if Tom would fall for so obvious a trap…

“Well, I was wondering if you had a copy of The Lost Word, by Bernard Trevisan.”

“W-what?”

“Is it a bit too obscure? He’s a —”

“Fifteenth-century alchemist,” she said, her smile suddenly beaming with nothing of the apprehension from before. “The Lost Word is a famous alchemical treatise! Yes, I know it. Which edition?”

“Doesn’t matter. Any would do.”

“We have a solid copy. Not too old, but faithful to the original, and at a good price.”

She began leading him into the second room before she’d even finished speaking. What a charming girl… She’d hoped he hadn’t been the intruder, and Tom had just confirmed it. He had gained her trust.

He followed her quick and careful steps, a heady perfume trailing behind and the metronomic echo of her thin high heels.

“It’s quite deep inside,” she said.

“Is it indeed?”

His hand came slowly out of his pocket, holding his wand.

“Not much further now, through this door.”

Tom stopped, took aim, and cast it.

“Imperio.”

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” she asked as she kept walking.

“…Nothing?” Tom muttered to himself in wonder. He looked down at his wand as if it were impotent.

“What?” she said, half-turning.

He shoved the wand back between the folds of his jacket before she could see it.

“Ahem, nothing,” he smiled. “Please, continue.”

A chill ran down his skin and bile rose in his throat in anger. It was clear to Tom now that this building, or perhaps the very land it sat on, was protected by some counter-charm. His usual solutions of bending locks and minds would not suffice, but he could not call himself the Heir of Slytherin if he could not find a way. Tom eyed her figure, infuriating and sleek, and decided then and there that she would be his key.

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient

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ilovedthestars · 1 month

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Hello Tumblr friends, apropos of nothing, I have a book recommendation for you.

If You Think You Would Enjoy:

First person narration that Does Something Cool With It

Urban fantasy that really leans into the urban aspect. The mundane beauty of the city made magical

London Man Investigates His Own Murder While Committing Several More Murders, more at 8

A protagonist who is just an absolute wet pathetic paper bag of a man and knows it

A protagonist(s) who are the exuberant and unhinged personification of telecommunications technology with an unparalleled zest for life and also sometimes murder

Both of those characters are technically the same person

The most breathtakingly gorgeous prose that has ever been used to describe a magically animated pile of garbage

A tone that I feel can reasonably be described as “gritty,” with its refusal to shy away from the blood and grime of reality, but that is also suffused with a deep unflinching love for everything that humanity is

A supporting cast that includes many of the world’s weirdest and most badass women

The protagonist getting beat up and/or stabbed and/or shot and almost dying at least twice per book

A reading experience not quite like any you have seen before or since

Then You Should Read:

The Matthew Swift series by Kate Griffin, starting with A Madness of Angels

If you love the city of London, you will love this book. If you have never been to the city of London, this book will show you what it looks like through the eyes of someone who loves it.

(And also what it looks like when embodied as a giant dragon made of street signs.)

I cannot emphasize enough the gorgeousness of this prose, the geniusness of the urban magic system, and the amount of love for London and for humanity that oozes out of this book. I am also fully convinced that Matthew Swift would be a tumblr blorbo if his books were not mostly out of print and very niche.

It can be a bit hard to get your hands on a physical copy—try thriftbooks or another online used bookseller, or call your friendly neighborhood bookstore and see if they can order it for you. Or just go for an ebook (maybe your library has it on Libby). It is absolutely worth the trouble.

Brief content note while I have you here: There is a fair amount of violence and it is sometimes very lovingly described. Also...don’t get too attached to side characters.

Go read it and then join the approximately 3 people on tumblr who know this book exists and are obsessed with it!!

#matthew swift #stars has thoughts #books #book recommendations #urban fantasy #i don't know why i felt compelled to make this #i haven't reread matthew swift in a while #but clearly i need to #please i need more ppl to read this book and do fandom about it #it's so hard to explain what the Incredibly Specific Vibe is but it's so good

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jeyneofpoole · 11 months

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i’m a bookseller so let’s analyze the books that asoiaf characters would probably be into in my expert opinion

sansa: easy answer, mass-market bodice rippers. true answer, horror. she is a vc andrews girly but she hates stephen king. also she probably read a bunch of colleen hoover at a very formative age and it fucked up her idea of healthy relationships.

jon: manga. i do not know jack or shit about manga but i do know he’d probably like that berserk one or whatever the fuck it’s called. he’s emo. nobody understands him. you get it. so on and so forth.

theon: he doesn’t read but he does go back into the kids department and stick gum in the pages of the i survived books. sometimes if he’s feeling really bold he’ll put his number in between the pages of novels that he thinks are for smart people. his concept of high lit is not very developed so it’s sort of a toss-up as to the books he does this to. they’ve found his number in the brothers karamazov and a taylor jenkins reid novel on the same day.

dany: ya dystopia. you KNOW she would have been so into the maze runner and divergent. somebody let this child have a hunger games phase dear lord.

arya: her idol growing up was junie b jones. she was obsessed with the boxcar children and when she was 7 she tried to run away but to her extreme dismay she couldn’t find a boxcar so she settled for an underpass frequented by various delinquents, vagabonds, etc. they unionized to get her back home and cat didn’t let her outside for a year. immediately after she was ungrounded she ran away again to murder pigeons en masse because she had just read wringer by jerry spinelli and took away the wrong message. now she just reads fencing instructional books. also a warrior cats kid.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf shitpost #theon greyjoy #sansa stark #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #arya stark #barnes and noble

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nikihawkes · 11 days

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Book Review: Trials of Empire by Richard Swan

Title: Trials of Empire Author: Richard Swan Series: Empire of the Wolf #3 Genre: Fantasy Rating: 3.5/5 stars The Overview: The third novel in an epic fantasy trilogy, which follows the tale of Sir Konrad Vonvalt, an Emperor’s Justice – a detective, judge and executioner all in one. THE TIME OF JUDGEMENT IS AT HAND. The Empire of the Wolf is on its knees, but there’s life in the great beast…

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#2024 releases #book #book review #book reviews #books #empire of the wolf #fantasy #fantasy books #niki hawkes #richard swan #the obsessive bookseller #trials of empire

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landwriter · 13 days

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YOU'VE GOT MAIL AU??? 👀👀👀👀👀

OH YES! I have not written a scene for it since fall 2022 (hope I just made everyone in the fandom feel super old <3), except the one I wrote just now for the other WIP ask, so I'll tell you about it instead!

Slowburn enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, identity porn, two-person love triangle entirely sustained by Dream's own ridiculous beliefs. Very silly and fluffy, I think, except when it has to be sad. Big sappy happy ending, just like in the movie.

Hob, owner of The New Bookshop, like Kathleen Kelly, is prone to optimism to the point of denial of the fundamental tenets of reality and/or the bookselling business, and has a bottomless love for all the small pleasures of New York City in the fall, and indeed, all of life. He is a hapless business owner but a wonderful bookseller. He is a hopeless romantic with a faintly disastrous dating life that his friends and coworkers tease him about. Falling in love with a mysterious stranger he met online is only the latest in a long series of questionable decision-making.

Morpheus, CEO of Endless Books, unlike Joe Fox, genuinely cares about books and stories. Unfortunately, he has a plummy accent and an almost preternatural ability to come off terribly. He's very good at his job and not much else which gives everyone around him the impression he enjoys crushing small businesses beneath his heel. In reality, he mostly enjoys the company of his library, his personal assistant and best friend Matthew, and Jessamy, a beautiful silver GSP. (Because there is no universe in which I personally imagine Dream having a Labrador Retriever named Brinkley.) And writing to Hob, of course, who he is certain he will meet and love and marry, right until the moment he finds out it's Hob.

There is a whole ensemble cast including a little bit of Aziraphale

Instead of being obsessed with Godfather quotes, it's Shakespeare. Morpheus is a theatre kid who went to private school. Of course it's Shakespeare.

Rather than court Hob twice over as Tom Hanks does with Meg Ryan, Morpheus, after he falls for Hob, feels so utterly unworthy of taking what is being offered, and so convinced Hob will never want him once he knows who he is, that as soon as Hob (not him, Hob, important change) cheerfully bullies his way into his life after being put out of business, he spends all their dates trying to convince Hob to dislike his stranger.

They BOTH cry at the end <3

#wip title ask game #asks #you've got mail au #dreamling #the sandman

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theonevoice · 6 months

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Rumination n. 6 - It was all Jim's fault

Well, not all his fault. He walked right into a 6000yo situation of unspoken "do I... would you... could we...", but I think, since he fills the role of comic relief, we are not fully taking into account his impact on the whole ineffable miscommunication mess.

Because he is not just a plot device, he is a character that pushes Aziraphale and Crowley to act in unplanned ways and - most of all - brings some of their worldview biases and traumas out of their dark corners. And I am increasingly convinced that his presence plays a major role in the final breakup, acting as a catalyst for their millennia-long misalignment of hopes and fears.

Sure, he is there to make us smile and Jon Hamm is a joy to watch (I cannot get to his line in ep 1, when Aziraphale tells him that he can see that he's naked, and he goes "Oh! Well, what do you know? Ahahah!" without burst out laughing, even after countless rewatches), but that humor is mainly for us viewers to detect. From Aziraphale's and Crowley's point of view, he doesn't appear as funny as he does to us. For them, he is a source of worry and danger, and I would argue that he is also an incarnation of different desires. And that's the point.

Let's consider for a moment Aziraphale's perspective. He sees his former boss, "most holy archangel" Gabriel, pop up one day at the bookshop, reduced to the mental capacity of a smart dog, vaguely aware that someone was planning to do "something terrible" to him. It is a terrifying spectacle to behold. It's not just the mere danger of having one of the most powerful entities in the universe, possibly still in posess of all his powers, acting like a child. It's the terror of witnessing what Heaven can do to your identity and your mind: imagine Aziraphale - book-lover, diary-writer, Antichrist-locator Aziraphale with the capacity, as per the book, to solve math problems that only people with Nobel prizes could master - trying to process the idea that his former boss doesn't know the alphabet anymore. The idea that he could be reduced to that degree of utter ignorance and unawareness if Heaven decided that their truce is over.

At the same time, what Aziraphale sees is that, once stripped of all the layers of Heaven's legalism, Gabriel is legitimately a great guy.

We all love Muriel to death, of course, but the more I watch s2 the more I believe that Jim is the most similar "angel" to Aziraphale out of all the ones we see. He is jovial (think at whatever that cheeck squishing thing is that he does during the ball), he is enthusiastic (think at his reaction at his first sip of hot chocolate, and also his genuine "hurray! Let the bookselling commence!"). He is affectionate and open about it ("You're funny, I love you"). He is caring (sure he was struggling to read the room during the demon attack, but still in that moment of danger he has the altruism of thinking to ask if anyone wants hot chocolate, and hot chocolate is the symbol of comfort for him, it's the first thing Aziraphale offers to him to make him feel at ease in the bookshop and the thing that Crowley brings him to soothe his angst after the memory conversation). He is helpful or at least he wants to be (rearranging the books in an order that, if you think about it, follows the criterion of medieval manuscripts illuminators, who usually embellished only the first letter of the first sentence on a page, which makes sense as a frame of reference for an angel whose only experience of books probably goes back to some old Bibles). He is generous and brave (giving himself up without a second thought when he realises that Shax is threatening Aziraphale and all the others because of him).

As Jim, memory-wiped Gabriel is both Aziraphale's worst fear and his deepest hope: that after all Heaven is the side of good, that all the cruelty and the callousness and the total blindness to the value of life on Earth is just a mishap, that if you scrape off the absurd obsession with World Ending Great Plans you will find underneath a form of good that is pure and gentle. I think Jim, way more than the Metatron and his shitty offer-threat, is the main thing that brings Aziraphale back on the mission of fixing Heaven, "making a difference," not for the greater cosmic good, but to create a safe place for him and Crowley. So they can be safe together.

But something similar happens from Crowley's point of view. He also sees Gabriel as the concrete manifestation of both his worst fear and his deepest desire. The former Supreme Archangel renews the momentarily forgotten awareness of what Heaven and Hell can do to you if you cross them: destroy you either by throwing you into hellfire or holy water, or now by hanging the threat of the Book of Life above your head. Force you to live in a constant state of danger, pressing you against the possibility of your non-existence, making you feel like you have a loaded gun constantly placed against your skull and no magic trick to avoid the bullet.

At the same time, just as Aziraphale, what Crowley sees is that, if you are determined and lucky or maybe just inconsiderate, you can get away from Heaven and live your happy thoughtless life on Earth. Think of how bitter he is when he confronts Jim in ep5, calling him Gabriel and "Oh, yeah yeah, no no no. You're Jim now. Got everything just the way you want it?" I think here Crowley is projecting his desire to be "on the lam having a wonderful time and never be seen again." Sure, everyone is after him and they had to perform a joined miracle to hide him, but let's not forget that Crowley was not doing it to save Gabriel, he was doing it to keep Aziraphale safe. From his point of view, Gabriel did it: he run off, cut ties with Heaven, settled in his little neat new identity, cared and protected, not a thought in his head. And yes, Crowley is painfully aware of how awful it is to have your memory erased - I don't think he would consider it an acceptable price to pay for freedom. But still, Gabriel did what he would like to do. And it does not help that memory-wiped Gabriel presents specifically to Crowley some aspects of his personality in which he can recognize himself. He is curious and asks questions (think of the gravity conversation), and even more important he is ready to dispute the answers that are given to him ("but they don't stay where I put them"). He hears the plan about Nina and Maggie that Aziraphale didn't listen to, and afterwards asks Crowley how it went. He is insightful in his own instinctive way (when he tells Crowley "you're really nice" he's not just saying "you are nice a lot" but also "in reality you are nice", he's seeing through Crowley's rough mannerism even if just seconds before he was angrily shouting at him). He has lost his memory, which by now I think most of us agree it's what also happened to Crowley, at least partially ("I know, looking at where the furniture isn't"). And then, the final nail on the mirror-coffin: Gabriel run away from Heaven for his love. They run off together.

Having Jim right there, in front of his very eyes, I think it's the thing that pushes Crowley back to his old plan of running off together with Aziraphale: he is the living prove that it can be done, further confirmed by his final departure with Beelzebub. Of course, for a brief moment both sides of the metaphisical universe where hunting him down, which is not desirable. But Gabriel was the Supreme Archangel after all, it's only fair that they're looking for him. They are but a former bullied angel and a former already-replaced demon, maybe Heaven and Hell would not mobilised their hosts for them. They could be finally safe together.

So, when you put everything together, I think that what happened at the end of ep6 has more to do with Gabriel and how his presence affected them during the season, than it has to do with the Metatron, or even with the Nina-Maggie foil. It is Jim that pushed a wedge into the thin crack that had always been there, separating what each of them sees as the best way to be safe together.

#good omens #good omens 2 #go2 #crowley #aziraphale #good omens thoughts #go2 spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #jimbriel #supreme archangel gabriel #the final fifteen #good omens meta

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whumpsoda · 1 month

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Finally drew Fitz from @oliversrarebooks series, The Rare Bookseller! I love this guy so much he’s so silly and dramatic!!! :3

I loveee him. Actually can’t get enough of this guy! And God am I obsessed with the series too. Will never get over how much it’s inspired me and my work! Here’s the goofy guy :)

#My art #art #digital drawing #Fitz

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aziraphales-library · 5 months

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hello dears! hope yall are having a good one while we wait for season 2. i've recently read a couple of fics where crowley yells at or prays to God, like "Madman and a Fool" by loserchildhotpants, and "a first edition Aldous Huxley, mint condition" by thewalrus_said. both of them play into protective and/or possesive crowley, which i was already weak for, but i'm highkey obsessed with the direct talking to God. i was wondering if you had any recommendations for fics in the same vein?

Hi! We have #god, #crowley & god, and #crowley yells at god tags you can check out. Here are a couple more from post-series two...

I Am Still Ugly, She Is Still God by yellowspiralbound (NR)

A slender, dark-skinned hand lifted it from the table. Crowley watched in mute horror as the woman that had appeared in his flat unscrewed the cap and raised it to her lips. She drank deeply, emptying the thermos of holy water completely. She dropped the thermos and it vanished before it could hit the ground. “I was going to drink that,” Crowley said weakly. “I know,” God replied.

I Do Not Forgive You by Puellainrotis (M)

The most powerful thing in the world, in the whole cosmos, was love. The second most powerful thing in the cosmos was rage, pure and unadulterated, red and white and blinding, hot and seething rage. Crowley had plenty of both in him to do the impossible. “I’ve had enough of your games, Mother,” Crowley growled, dangerous. “You made the choice to turn one of your most powerful children into a demon and now it’s time that you paid the price for creating a monsssster.” The Supreme Archangel looked up to stare at him in horror as he raised hands drenched in silver blood upwards in a grand gesture and announced with a feverish glow in his golden eyes, “Hello, Aziraphale. It’s time for you to welcome your new God.”

The Son Estranged by lindsey_grissom (G)

How the ex-demon ‘not even at gunpoint’ Crowley became a bookseller, accidentally started an atheist movement in Soho and stopped the Second Coming with an apple. {He also spent a lot of time hanging with the Almighty - he was as surprised as you are.}

I'm Gonna Set Things Right Again by iocallistoeuropa (G)

Aziraphale has gone off to Heaven, Crowley is driving around the country aimlessly, Muriel has learned how to have a "cupperty", and Give Me Coffee... or Give Me Death has now been expanded and renamed Give Me Coffee, Give Me Records... or Give Me Death. Some things have changed for the better, but others have turned into quite a mess. Is there any way to set things right again?

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #god #crowley & god #crowley yells at god #mod d

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forbidden-sunlight · 2 years

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It Appears That I Have Been Reincarnated as a Draconic Villainess in a Self-Indulgent Fic!

(THE DARK HISTORY OF THE REINCARNATED VILLAINESS)

Poly!Yanderes x Iana Magnolia! Reader

PART ONE: THE DRAGON’S REBIRTH?

Hello everyone and welcome to the first chapter of It Appears That I Have Been Reincarnated as a Draconic Villainess in a Self-Indulgent Fic! This is a collaborated work of fiction with @staradorned. I seriously would not have considered creating another yandere series, based on a manga this time ‘round, without their help. Also special thanks to my friend @rouecentric for being an honest critic and where the rough drafts can be improved lol.

If you are curious, the manga series that is featured here is called The Dark History of the Reincarnated Villainess by Akiharu Touka. If you’d like to read it first before diving in here, you’re certainly more than welcome to! Chapters can be found online at Manga Clash (I think) and you can find physical copies at a local bookseller.

So without being said guys, the warnings are down below. If you are ready, sit back, relax, and enjoy :)

Trigger Warnings: Abduction, Kidnapping, Attempted Sexual Assault.

Other Warnings: spoilers from the manga, obsessive behavior, implied violence. Please take caution.

FINAL WARNING: The intention of this story is for entertainment purposes only. The behavior exhibited here is inappropriate and unhealthy, hence it should not be encouraged.

Designing clothes in a boutique had been your ambition ever since you had experienced the joy of creating outfits with a needle, thread, and a pin cushion strapped to your wrist. Against your parents’ initial wishes to marry a well-off gentleman and go to university for a degree that will at least provide a stable career, you enroll in fashion school.

The workload was grueling, and the competition throughout the last four years became even more fierce with each semester leading closer to graduation. But it was worth it. The sacrifices you had made, all of those all nighters spent on putting together a portfolio for a final semester grade? Totally worth it. You had even gotten a job at a small shop right after finishing school!

It wasn’t a high-end business, but hey, it was one step in the right direction! Progress was progress!

And then you died after being on the job for three months. Overworked yourself to death to keep up with the customer’s demands including being short-staffed. Heck of a way to end a seemingly normal life.

But you had not anticipated opening your eyes to see a tall, red-haired man sword being pointed at your face. You could only stare dumbly at him as he spouted cliche lines about harming his lover and why would I try to harm your own sister. The supposed sibling was a pink-haired curvaceous woman being cradled in the guy’s arms, tears forming behind cinnabar -colored eyes.

What the hell is going on here?!

You asked who they were and why were they acting so hostile towards a complete stranger, but neither of them listened as you were led away to a villa by armed guards. Later, you discovered that you had woken inside the petite body of Iana Magnolia.

She was a despicable young lady with a terrible reputation in the Rose Kingdom; she constantly harassed her former fiance and older sister, Sir Ginoford Dandelion and Konoha Magnolia, on top of having such a fearsome temper that everyone called her a dragon. In this country, being referred to as a dragon is the same as being a black sheep in the family, if not a symbol of bad luck that will embarrass future generations to come. The count’s family, to be precise.

The family you were now part of.

Seriously, what hellish dimension did you transmigrate into?! Is this some weird comedy where you have to redeem yourself as a villainess or else you would die?! And three months of house arrest for innumerous crimes you had not committed as this person, including using illegal dark magic?!

Wow. Karma is being a bitch. Big time.

If this situation wasn’t bad enough, a new servant had been sent with you to confinement. He was a blonde-haired and blue-eyed butler named Sol Nemophyra. But how can someone have so much bloodlust radiating from their body and someone not pick up on it?

Yeah, this dude had to be sent to kill you. There’s no way a new employee, let alone a butler, would move as quietly as he did when he approached your side with a silver platter of tea and snacks. And no, you were not touching the stuff. It could be poisoned for all you knew!

In the second week of your solitary imprisonment, you woke up in a cold sweat after having a very vivid dream. And it wasn’t a good one either: Konoha was being assaulted by their licentious uncle on the floor of an abandoned church while Sir Ginoford lay by her feet, bleeding from the head and unconscious.

Frankly speaking, you really didn’t wanna help them. What did you owe to two complete strangers who did not even listen to you? But that damned angel on your shoulder persuaded your conscience to not leave this matter alone. You had to do something, despite now having the gift of clairvoyance.

Why couldn’t you have the ability to transport away from this place instead of seeing random visions?! TT ^ TT

So, you escaped the villa and rushed to the abandoned town Konoha and her fiance would be invited to by the perverted geezer via horseback. It was a miracle that you had gotten there in the nick of time, let alone thrown a burlap sack full of rocks right in the uncle’s face with accurate precision.

Had Iana hunted wild game when she wasn’t plotting Konoha’s demise? That would make sense if she had. Weird but convenient. The uncle was arrested by local authorities, and Ginoford was now convinced that the reason his former fiancee had acted so maliciously towards him and Konoha is because she wanted to save them from the pervert’s rage.

Yeah, dude, that was straight up harassment. Iana was harassing you guys, not trying to protect you!

But the stupid knight wasn’t listening to you. Not that you had much to say except having a weird dream about the pink-haired lady getting molested and him being knocked out on top of not knowing who the heck they were because you had amnesia. Sir Ginoford’s answer: Iana Magnolia is blessed by the gods, and maybe even a saint.

What. The. Bleep?!

Sol, obviously, was not persuaded by Sir Ginoford’s passionate words. If anything, he became more determined to keep an eye on you upon returning to the villa for the remainder of the house arrest period. He even watched from the door as you studied etiquette and history books because you had supposedly forgotten everything. Having time alone to learn such skills, though, was a blessing in disguise.

A month after coming to this strange world, Konoha approached you with an invitation for a picnic in Fuschia Forest. You politely refused because you couldn’t leave the villa without the count’s permission. However you quickly changed your mind when Konoha began to start crying and Sol glared at you icily, explaining that he had already gotten permission from the count for you to leave so long as you…behaved yourself.

Or he killed you. God, this is a messed-up place. It honestly reminded you of those Mary Sue fanfics where everyone’s attention was on the perfect protagonist who still needed a man in her life and yet couldn’t decide whom she would love in the end.

Yeah. Kinda shitty.

Once everything was set up, Sol brewed high quality black tea leaves Sir Ginoford had harvested as a thank-you gift for saving Konoha. As much as you did not trust Sol with anything near food or drinks, you also doubted that he’d try to poison you in front of his benefactors. Unless…the poison is slow acting? Crap. You were screwed either way.

Konoha tried to make small talk with you, asking you certain questions about the childhood that the two of you shared. But all you could do was shake your head, apologizing that you truly do not remember who she is or Sir Ginoford. The two of them were complete strangers. When she began to start crying again, you felt a chill run down your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Sol staring at you with a cold frown.

Oh, you were so tempted to flip the bird at him, just once, to piss him off. But doing that would possibly trigger a death flag, and bye-bye your second chance at life.

Did you mention that Konoha got kidnapped by a large, drooling wolf as she cooed over a bunny rabbit? She did. And you followed after the troublesome woman with a crossbow that you frisked from one of the guards. As much as you hated yourself for doing this, you were quite certain now: if something happened to Konoha, you were dead. You would be blamed for whatever happened to her without another thought by Sol and Ginoford.

Running on pure adrenaline, you found Konoha being fondled by the beast in a meadow. Raising the weapon, you fired three arrows at it. Two in the back, and one in the shoulder. Yelling at Konoha to move, you raised the crossbow to fire again when the damned thing jammed up. Shoving the damsel in distress behind you, you were about to use the crossbow as a club when Sol and Ginoford swooped in to deliver the final blow.

Cue Konoha and Ginoford having a lovey-dovey moment while you were suffering some mild abrasions, leaning against a boulder. You were about to rest your eyes for a moment when all of a sudden, you were off of the ground and being gently cradled in Sol’s arms as the rest of the party began to head back to where the picnic was being held.

Nope, nope, and nope.

You did not trust the man. You did not want to be near him, it had been bad enough that he was constantly watching you back at the villa. In a moment of stupidity, you pressed the tip of the arrow against his porcelain cheek and demanded that he put you back on the ground, now.

He argued that you were in no condition to walk. You called him out on his bullcrap and said you were fine. He refused. The two of you exchanged some nasty words until Konoha pleads to the two of you to please stop fighting, and Iana, you will get looked at by a medic.

You reluctantly relented but only if you got to keep the crossbow. The previous Iana obviously knew how to use it, hence the muscle memory when you wielded it. Not to mention it would act as insurance. A shield of some sort to protect you against a lovesick butler slash hired assassin that was so obviously in love with Konoha that it is painful to watch their interactions and not mentally gag.

When can you go back to the villa and reclaim some quiet time, damn it?! Do you not deserve it after saving Konoha again?! TT ^ TT

Sol was annoyed with Iana Magnolia. It had been bad enough that his sweet Konoha had such a terrible younger sister, but her sudden change in behavior threw him for a loop. Instead of bullying Konoha or trying to seduce Ginoford again, she did not want to interact with either of them. She would either be holed up in the library studying, or in her room fumbling with rolls of fabric as she sewed the hours away. A count’s daughter whose name is synonymous with the word ‘dragon’, sewing like a commoner with a silly hum under her breath.

When the count declared that Iana’s probation period was over, she refused to go back to the main house. She wanted to remain in the villa and be left alone. She threw such a temper tantrum about wanting her ‘alone time’ that his contractor had no choice but to relent. Konoha was understandably upset at the situation, but decided to respect her sister’s wishes.

By doing so, Konoha and Ginoford visited the villa every single afternoon. And every time she clung to Iana, the latter looked very uncomfortable.

He did not understand. Who is Iana Magnolia? What were her intentions towards his savior? He would not allow anything to happen to his new mistress, until he would uncover the truth behind Iana’s bizarre behavior.

Becoming aware that pushing Konoha away only continued to tick off Sol, you decided to ease your guilt of making the girl upset by creating a dress for her. The occasion? The Magnolia family had been invited to the palace to celebrate the country’s foundation. A grand ball was to be held on the first and last day of a week’s worth of festivities.

When she showed you some of the designs that the seamstress had in mind, you nearly choked. Almost all of them had plunging necklines that were not appropriate for a young woman at Konoha’s age. She was an engaged woman, not a single fish looking to find someone!

Throwing the catalog down on the coffee table, you grabbed your sketchpad and pen. Within twenty minutes, you drew three dresses that were much more appropriate for the occasion and inspired by the fashion shows and anime you used to watch back in your old world.

Konoha loved the Princess Serenity design: a knee-length, flowing sleeveless white dress with an intricately decorated bodice in the shape of golden hoops and a bust defined by a row of pearls. A translucent bow would be tied to the back, followed by a zipper. It would make it easy for Konoha to slip in and out of the outfit without a servant’s help.

It would be tricky to make, but you were up for the challenge. Once you had the measurements, you shooed Konoha away and gave Sol the task to collect the fabrics and other materials needed for the project. You would also be making a gown for yourself.

The theme that initially came to your mind was Fire and Ice. But when you decided on the design for your own dress, you changed it to Fairy Tale Princess and the Dragon.

If this world hated Iana Magnolia so much, the so-called Dragon of the Rose Kingdom…then why not give the people what they want?

You only had a month to complete the pieces, so there was no time to waste. As much as you hated the idea…you reluctantly asked Sol for his assistance with the embroidery while you tackled on hemming the fabric together.

You thought he’d refused to help, but to your surprise, he stepped up to the plate and proved his worth as an assistant. At least, in your mind, to help create a dress that Konoha would wear and make sure you wouldn’t poison the needle in an attempt to harm her. Again.

When the Princess Serenity dress was presented to Konoha on the night before the ball, she was so happy with the final product that she gave you a big hug, promising to take good care of it for as long as she lived. Upon asking about your own gown, you just shrugged and said she’d have to wait and see until the ball.

So, she did. But you did not expect her to react so…positively to your gown. It was a dark red and golden ball gown that hugged your waist and flowed outwards with a long train, dusted with gold appliqués at the skirt and matching rhinestones at the top. These were the ‘scales’ of your Dragon concept. But the crowning jewel of the design was the golden spiked headpiece you wore on the back of your head. You wanted to go with removable inwardly curved horns, but that might have scared the other nobles. So you opted for a safer route, hence custom-ordering the headpiece and paying extra money to have it be quickly worked on.

A dragon of your own design. An arrogant, beautiful dragon whose scales shined brighter than any jewel that glittered in these halls, the exception being Konoha, of course.

Konoha had shown off the dress proudly at the ball, dropping your name easily from her lips as she spoke with men and women who were in awe of her ethereal beauty. Yup, she was definitely a princess straight from a fairy tale.

Despite her attempt to show the world that her scheming sister had changed, there were nobles who were not convinced. They thought you were deceiving the couple for another nefarious plot.

Seriously, why would you even do that? You had no reason to….except maybe Sol if he got on your nerves again. You excused yourself from the ballroom under the intention of using the bathroom.

FYI: When you had decided to go with the Fairy Tale Princess and The Dragon theme, you honestly did not mean to literally be caught on fire. A candle had topped over in the hall, the blaze quickly spreading to where it made escaping difficult as you tried to not inhale the smoke and keep low to the ground. Did you mention that you got pinned by falling debris? No? Well, you did.

You were alone and trapped in a burning building, your leg possibly fractured and unable to move it. And…that was it. This is probably where you were gonna die, again. Now you would only be remembered as a wicked villainess.

At least, those were the dark thoughts racing through your mind before Sol had burst into the room like some kind of knight in shining armor and got you out before the whole place collapsed. You didn’t think you would ever be so glad to be saved by the jerk, yet you were. So you tried to be a little nicer to him, only to get an icy smile in exchange.

Yup, he still disliked you. Oh, well.

[Bonus Content: Konoha Magnolia]

Konoha Magnolia had been fortunate to have such a kind and loving father who did not force her into a political marriage when she became of age, instead being engaged to the man she loves. It must have been hard to make such a sacrifice in a world where marrying for love instead of solidifying alliances and continuing the bloodline is considered to be a terrible choice. But she knew he loved her…she had just wished he could give even a tiny bit of that love to Iana, her younger sister.

However, it seemed he still blamed Iana for their mother’s death. She had died bringing her precious sister into the world. Konoha did not know anyone who loved the previous countess than their father. Everyone loved her, even the staff. They had told her more than once just how much she resembled her mother.

She was not blind to what was going around her. She was the favored child, and Iana is not. No one wanted to serve her, in fear of objects being thrown at them or yelled at for even the slightest mistake. To work under such a fearsome dragon. Yes, she was also aware of that horrid nickname.

Konoha had tried to reach out to her precious sister, but Iana scorned every attempt and the bullying increased tenfold, from public degradation to bribing some servants to give Konoha tea and snacks laced with poison.

When Sir Ginoford confronted Iana after trying to give a dangerous relic for her to read, that was the day that her younger sister lost her memories. And…when their uncle attempted to violate her in the sanctity of the village’s church.

If it weren’t for her younger sister’s interference, Konoha had the feeling something terrible would have happened to Sir Ginoford. Nonetheless, she was grateful to Iana.

Although she is upset that Iana did not recognize her older sister, Konoha saw it as an opportunity to start over. To rebuild their fractured relationship on a clean slate. That was why she tried to approach Iana again after their uncle had been arrested.

Instead of openly mocking her or Sir Ginoford like before, Iana begrudgingly accepted their invitation to tea or a walk in the gardens. She even went through the trouble of creating a dress for the foundation day’s opening night at the royal palace.

A dress designed just for her.

Although the maids have tried time and time again to throw it away in fear that Iana had used a poisoned needle in the fabric, Konoha forbade it. The dress was a precious gift from her sister. Why would she throw it away?

When she heard that her sister was holed up in her room creating more clothes, she would personally come to Iana’s room with a cart of tea and snacks to make sure the latter wasn’t working too hard. But to see Iana walking on the plush carpet bare-footed in such loose fitting garments? How scandalous!

Even Sol became flustered and almost begged Iana to change her clothes, for her older sister. Iana refused, arguing that a short-sleeved shirt was not scandalous with the floor-length cloak she is wearing over it. She wants to be comfortable in her own room.

Konoha wholeheartedly agreed, so long as she was the only one who saw Iana like this. It would be unsightly for another gentleman to see it. She smiled when she saw a pout form on her little sister’s cheeks, the expression deepening as Sol continued to reprimand before she snapped at him, inciting yet another argument between them. Konoha simply shook her head and took a sip of her honey lemon tea.

Oh, she so dearly hoped that they would get along soon.

#yandere x reader #yandere manga #the dark history of the reincarnated villainess #forbidden-sunlight #yandere male #poly yandere #platonic yandere #romantic yandere #dark academia aesthetic #yandere fanfiction #ns.fw #staradored #manga x reader #x reader #cw yandere #tw yandere #attempted murder

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